"Oh dear!" gasped Owen, throwing himself at full length on a sofa, with his legs hanging over one end of it, as though he were in utter despair.
"I will talk with K-u-r-n-e-l, Colonel, S-h-e-p-a-r-d, Shepard, a-bout the r-o-u-t-e, route."
"Good! Shove it off on the Colonel!" exclaimed Owen. "I know what you say now; and I feel better."
"Perhaps you would like to know where it is possible for us to go," I continued, taking Cornwood's paper from my pocket as Owen sprang to his feet. "Here are some suggestions in regard to where we may go; it was made up by our guide;" and I handed him the paper, which he opened to the fold of the sheet, and turned it over and over.
"Merciful Grand Panjandrum!"
"Another friend of yours!"
"I got him out of an American book; and that accounts for it! Am I to read all this? Tempus fugit. Let it fugit! I should have to be buried in the blue sands of Florida if I read all this;" and he turned it over several times more.
"You would have to be buried in thought for a short time if you read it."
"Let me see, what did you call what's in this paper? Suggestions, was it? If these are only suggestions, what must the real thing be! No, no, Alick! Go where you please; but don't ask me to read that paper. Only give us some shooting and fishing. Don't bother me with any more suggestions."
"You sent for me, and I came."