“To that gate.” She indicated it.
“Then,” said John, “please allow me to accompany you. I think Antony and I between us will prove a match for goats. I dare to boast on our behalf, since we have already proved our prowess in the matter.”
He threw Antony a glance, a little friendly, understanding glance. By such glances are bonds established that will last a lifetime.
“Me too,” quoth Michael, breaking silence for the first time.
“In very sooth, you too,” said John. “Antony as advance guard,—not more than a couple of paces advance, mind you,—Michael and I on either side. Are we ready? Then, quick march.”
This last was mere pandering to accepted custom. You cannot well say, “Slow march,” though it is what your whole soul intends. Here is a fine illustration of the fact that speech is but a poor mode of expressing a man’s thoughts. And then an inspiration came to him.
“Not too quickly,” said he to the advance guard. “If he thinks we are attempting to elude him, he may pursue us. A nonchalant, a mere careless strolling, will be our wisest course.”
“Oh, do you think he might follow?” cried Rosamund. The suggestion had evidently given cause for renewed anxiety.
“It is possible,” returned John gravely, “though, I fancy, not probable. However, we will take no risks.”
Slowly, therefore, in mere dilatory fashion, they set forth. The goat raised his read to look at them; but, having his orders, he dropped it again towards the heather.