The carpenter and Pete were in high glee at the news that they were to accompany us, and in the intervals of packing up, their delight was expressed by furtive punches and slaps delivered when one or the other was not looking.
“I am glad, Mr Nat,” Bill Cross said to me when we were alone for a few minutes overnight. “I’m not grumbling, sir, and I like making cases and cooking and washing, but I do feel sometimes as if I’d give anything to be able to shoulder a gun and come along with you gents, shooting and hunting for curiosities.”
“Well, you’ll have a fine chance now, Bill,” I said.
“Yes, sir, and it’ll just be a treat; for I haven’t had much of the fun so far, have I?”
“Fun?” I said.
“Yes, sir; it’s fun to a chap like me who when he goes to sleep of a night it’s with the feeling that there’s a day’s work done.”
“So it is with all of us,” I said. “I work very hard; so does my uncle.”
“Yes, sir; but don’t you see that what’s work to you as can go and do is seems like play to me as is obliged to stay in camp—I mean with the boat. But as I was going to say, after a night’s rest when one wakes up it’s always to begin another day’s work! But there, don’t you think I’m grumbling, sir, because I arn’t; for I’ve never been so happy in my life before as since I’ve been out here with you and the doctor. What time do we start to-morrow?”
“Breakfast before daylight, and start as soon as we can see,” I replied.
“Right, sir; I’ll be ready.”