Norman sprang up rested and refreshed, and then glanced round uneasily, expecting to see his father come and order the black to be off.
But the captain was busy examining the cattle, the horses and their harness, and the loading of the wagons; helping German to tighten a rope here, and rearrange packages where they had broken loose, and seeing generally to the many little matters that have so much to do with the success of an overland journey with a caravan.
Then breakfast was announced just after the boys had returned from the river, where they had had to content themselves with a wash, while Shanter looked on, and then followed them back, apparently supremely proud and happy to be in their company.
Breakfast over, and the provisions repacked, Shanter not having been forgotten by big white Mary, as he insisted upon calling Aunt Georgie, the horses and drawing bullocks were put to, a last glance cast round to see that nothing had been left, and then, prior to giving the word to advance, the captain mounted with his little field-glass to the top of the highest load, where he carefully scanned the country, and made remarks to his brother as to the direction to take that day.
“Yes,” he said at last; “the river evidently makes a vast bend here, and curves round to the north. We will go straight across from here to that hill—mountain I ought to call it.—Do you see, German?”
“Yes, sir, I see,” said the gardener, shading his eyes.
“There can be no mistake as to your course; the plain is perfectly level and treeless, and we ought easily to get there for our mid-day halt. How far do you think it is—eight miles?”
“Twenty,” said Uncle Jack, sturdily.
“Nonsense!”
“Yes, twenty. The air is so clear that places look closer than they are.”