Chapter Forty Five.
Homeward Bound.
Exhausted as the travellers were, sleep, good food, and the soft sweet air soon restored them, and they were ready to continue their journey long before their messenger returned, to bring faithfully the means for a fresh start, with fresh ponies, and the necessaries they required, though these were hard to obtain in so out-of-the-way a place.
The weather was threatening as they started at last for Ansina, the Chumleys electing to accompany them. In fact, on parting, their host, who had been amply recompensed for his kindness, warned them to hasten on to the port, for snow, he said, would fall before the week was out, and then the famished wolves would descend from the mountains and the plain become dangerous.
The advice was readily taken, for all were quite satisfied that their travels in Asia Minor would be better ended for the present.
In this spirit they made the best of their way to the port, where they arrived with the snow falling slightly, though high up in the mountains there was a heavy storm. They took up their quarters at the best hotel in the place, and could have gone on at once by the steamer from Beyrout, but at Lawrence’s wish the departure was put off till the coming of the next boat, a fortnight later.
“You do not feel so well?” said Mr Preston anxiously.
“Eh, what, not so well?” cried Mr Burne, turning to look at Lawrence. “Look here, don’t say that. I thought we had cured him.”
“Oh, I’m quite well and strong,” cried Lawrence quickly.
“But you seem so dull,” said the professor.