“Yes, sir; dare say I could, sir.” This from an ostler in answer to another query of friend Silas. “Five-and-twenty mile, sir. I’ve just the horse that’ll suit. Three hours to a tick, sir, rough though the road is, sir. I’ll be ready in twenty minutes. Thank’ee, sir, much obliged. Now then, Donald, bustle about, will you? Get out the bay mare. Look sharp, gentleman’s only got five minutes to feed.”
“It can’t be Captain Grig already,” said Mrs McGregor.
“And yet who else can it be?” said Helen Edith.
“I’ll run out and see,” said Ralph’s father, who had been spending some weeks at the castle.
“Ha! welcome, honest Silas Grig,” he cried, rushing up and literally receiving Silas with open arms as he jumped from the high-wheeled dogcart. “A thousand welcomes. Well, I do declare you haven’t let the grass grow under your feet. How your horse steams! Take him round, driver, and see to his comfort, then go to the kitchen and see to your own. Old Janet is there. Now, Silas,” continued Mr Leigh, “before you go to talk to the ladies, I’ll tell you what we have arranged. We have thought well over all you said when you were here in the autumn, and I’ve chartered a German Arctic cruiser, and we’re going to put you in command. She is lying at Peterhead, everything ready, crew and all, stores and all. Our prayers will follow you, dear Captain Grig, and if you find our poor boys, or even bring us tidings of their fate, we will be ever grateful. Nay, nay, but ‘grateful’ poorly expresses my meaning. We will—”
“Not another word,” cried Silas, “not one single word more, sir, or as sure as my name is Silas Grig I’ll clap my fingers in my ears.”
He shook Mr Leigh’s hand as he spoke.
“I’ll find the boys if they be alive,” he said. “I knew, sir, when I got the telegram there was something in the wind. I told my little wife I was quite sure of it. Ha! ha! ha!”
Silas was laughing, but it was only to hide the tears with which his eyes were swimming.