“Four years, four months, doctor, and that’s just as long as I’ve known you.”
“Yes,” said the doctor, at last. “Bourne, what do you say to all this—shall we go and sleep on it?”
The two boys caught hands and gazed hard at Ned’s father, who was also silent for a few moments, before he drew a deep breath and said firmly—
“Yes, Lee, old friend, I say let us go to rest now, think deeply, and as we should, over what may mean success or failure, and decide in the morning what we ought to do.”
“Shout, boys,” cried Griggs, springing up. “Not one of your English hoo-roars, but a regular tiger—ragh—ragh—ragh! That’s your sort. They mean to go.”
“Yes, Griggs, old neighbour,” said the doctor; “in spite of all the terrible obstacles I can see plainly in our path, I feel that to-morrow morning my friend and I will have made up our minds that this is too great a thing to give up easily, and that we shall decide to go.”