"Fool, to take Pierre Radisson for a child!" That was all the old man said, but before his eyes Black Michael seemed to shrink back in confused silence. If this kept on, I knew that Radisson would be goaded into action we might all regret; albeit, boylike, I rejoiced thereat as the thought came to me. Then I fell to pondering on that puzzle which had vexed me so sore—Gib o' Clarclach. Who was he? Had Radisson told me truly or no? And who was this hostage of whom he had spoken? But I knew no more at the end of that pondering than I knew at the beginning.
During the afternoon we loaded most of our goods back into the boat, so that in the morning we might make a start. Most of the provisions were put aboard, together with the spare clothes and other things we had fetched from the ship, but the fusils, powder and shot I left where they had been hid. And fortunate it was that I did so, as events fell out.
To tell the truth, I think Ruth grieved more for my father than did I. He had ever been a hard man, just but stern in all things, and I had been more my mother's son while she lived. The thing was rather a shock than a heart-grief to me, I verily believe, and bitterly have I reproached myself that it was so, but without avail.
That night I noticed that Black Michael cast anxious glances at us, and the sailor Eoghan stared more than once at the gold brooch at Ruth's throat. I thought long on this, and it brought again to my mind that scene on the beach near Rathesby, when Gib and the other had fallen to staring at the brooch also. What might the thing be, and whose arms were those graven upon it? But this Ruth knew as little as I, and I concluded that the men were but attracted by the glitter of the massy gold, as was like enough.
This night fell warm and clear, very different from that before. Now Radisson and I lay together, the other three sleeping beyond us and nearer to the fire. I wrapped my plaid about me, as I had done many a time on the moors at home, and fell asleep almost at once; as yet I was none too strong, and even the little work done that day had wearied me. Grim lay beside Ruth's shelter.
How long I slept I know not, but when I wakened the fire had died down to a red glow. I lay wondering what had roused me, then sat up. The place where Gib had lain was vacant.
But I was too sleepy to waste time on such little things, and so rolled over again and dropped off. When next I opened mine eyes it was to find Radisson bending over and shaking me roughly.
"Waken, David!" Something in that deep rich voice of his brought me to my feet.
"What is it?" I cried, staring about into the new dawn. "What is the matter?"
"Matter enough," replied the old man gravely. "The men have gone off with the boat, lad, and we are deserted!"