“Where you two could not, sir. You two boys think it all easy enough, but you are not beasts of the field, to be able to pick up a living in this wild solitary land. Do you think you can join some tribe, and become young Indian chiefs? Rubbish. Find gold? What’s the use of it hundreds of miles away from places where it can be sold. Play Robinson Crusoe in the woods? Bah! Where is your ship to go to for stores? Why, you pair of silly ignorant young donkeys, do you know what your projects would end in?”
“Success, sir; fighting our own way in life,” I cried, proudly.
“For the carrion birds,” he said, grimly; “good meals for them, and later on some hunter finding a couple of whitened skeletons, lying beneath a great sheltering pine.”
“Oh, I say!” cried Esau; “don’t, don’t talk like that.”
“I am compelled to, my lads, so as to get some common manly sense in your heads.”
“Here, I say, Mayne Gordon,” cried Esau, rising; “let’s go back at once.”
I rose too, slowly and thoughtfully, waiting to speak, but unable to find suitable words. I was cruelly hurt and surprised at the rough reception I had met with, for I had at least expected to be made welcome for Mrs John’s sake. At the same time though, much as it pained me to hear Mr John spoken of so harshly, I began to see dimly that what Mr Raydon said was right, and that it had been a wild idea for us two lads to make such a journey in so speculative a manner. But before I had made up my mind what to say, and while I was standing there hesitating, Mr Raydon began again, in a sharp authoritative tone.
“What have you lads been?” he said.
“Writers—clerks in an office,” said Esau, glumly.
“Hah! yes: about the most unsuitable avocation for any one coming out here. You did not expect to find a post at a desk, I suppose?”