We followed him out, and I wanted to thank him; but I could not then, and he seemed to know it, for he kept on chatting to us as we went along one side of the enclosed square, pointing out how clear the sky was, and how full of promise for the next day. Then, as we reached the long low building where we had had our meal, he threw open the door, and stood back for us to enter.
“Good-night, Mayne,” he said.
“Good-night, sir,” I replied, rather huskily, and I clung to his hand a little as he held it out.
“Good-night, Dean,” he continued, and turning sharply off he sauntered away back towards his quarters.
“Might ha’ shook hands with me too,” said Esau, sullenly. “Didn’t offend him too much, did I?”
“No, no, don’t say any more about it,” I whispered.
Then we entered, to find Gunson seated on a rough stool by the fire smoking his pipe, or pretending to, for I saw no smoke, and the red glow from the embers lit up his face strangely.
“Ah, boys,” he said, starting up from his musings; “there you are. Well, you have dropped into snug quarters. Bed-time, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so,” I said sadly. “Hallo! Not cheery that!”
“Are you still thinking of going, Mr Gunson?” I said.