“I verily believe,” said Shank, “that the blacking-ball is re-enacting the scene with Rover! See! she grasps his paw, and—”
“My friend,” said Charlie, “we are taking mean advantage again! And, behold! like the other pair, they are flitting from the scene, though not quite in the same fashion.”
This was true, for Buttercup, reflecting, probably, that she might be missed in the kitchen, had suddenly tumbled Rover off the tree and darted swiftly from the spot.
“Come now, Shank,” said Charlie, resuming the thread of discourse which had been interrupted, “it is quite plain to Dick and to myself that you are unfit to travel home in your present state of health, so I have made up my mind to leave you here in the care of honest Jackson and Darvall, and to go home myself to make inquiries and search for your father. Will this make your mind easy? For that is essential to your recovery at the present time.”
“You were always kind and self-sacrificing, Charlie. Assuredly, your going will take an enormous weight off my mind, for you are much better fitted by nature for such a search than I am—to say nothing of health. Thank you, my dear old boy, a thousand times. As for Dick Darvall,” added Shank, with a laugh, “before this evening I would have doubted whether he would be willing to remain with me after your departure, but I have no doubt now—considering what we have just witnessed!”
“Yes, he has found ‘metal more attractive,’” said Charlie, rising. “I will now go and consult with him, after which I will depart without delay.”
“You’ve been having a gallop, to judge from your heightened colour and flashing eyes,” said Charlie to Dick when they met in the yard, half-an-hour later.
“N–no—not exactly,” returned the seaman, with a slightly embarrassed air. “The fact is I’ve bin cruisin’ about in the bush.”
“What! lookin’ for Redskins?”
“N–no; not exactly, but—”