“Yes; I am sure you would enjoy a trip with Rodd as much as he would like you to go with him.”
“Yes, that I should,” cried Rodd; “but—”
“Yes,” said Morny gravely; “but—you would not wish me to leave my father like this. Thank you, my father. I could not go, and I will stay.”
“No, Morny; you will obey my wishes. You have your young life saddened enough with disappointments, so that when there is an opportunity to keep one away I call upon you to accompany young Harding here as his companion, and I wish you both a very enjoyable trip.”
“That’s very nice of you—very nice indeed,” cried the doctor; “but I cannot sanction it. I think we should be doing very wrong if we let those boys go alone.”
“But they would not go alone. You would have full charge of your nephew.”
“Now, Des Saix!” snorted the doctor.
“Let me finish,” said the Count good-humouredly; “and as a man in whom I place full confidence I entrust you with the care of my son. Now, doctor, please, no more excuses. I will not deprive you of the pleasures a naturalist would enjoy in such an excursion. Your preparations could be soon made; so send over for the Spaniard to-night and tell him you will be ready to start at the turn of the tide to-morrow, so that it may bear you up into these unknown regions—unknown to us—and a pleasant trip to you!”
“No,” said the doctor, “I shall certainly not think of trusting ourselves to that man and his crew.”
“There I agree with you,” said the Count; “with a good crew of your own trusted men.”