I would, though, if I had had my senses! But all I thought of then was to get his face away, and I handed him my money.
On the morning of the third day, when we had been forty-eight hours in the Cage, I awoke with a great relief of spirits, very weak and weary indeed, but seeing things of the right size and with their honest, everyday appearance. I had a mind to eat, moreover, rose from bed of my own movement, and as soon as we had breakfasted, stepped to the entry of the Cage and sat down outside in the top of the wood. It was a grey day with a cool, mild air: and I sat in a dream all morning, only disturbed by the passing by of Cluny’s scouts and servants coming with provisions and reports; for as the coast was at that time clear, you might almost say he held court openly.
When I returned, he and Alan had laid the cards aside, and were questioning a gillie; and the chief turned about and spoke to me in the Gaelic.
“I have no Gaelic, sir,” said I.
Now since the card question, everything I said or did had the power of annoying Cluny. “Your name has more sense than yourself, then,” said he angrily; “for it’s good Gaelic. But the point is this. My scout reports all clear in the south, and the question is, have ye the strength to go?”
I saw cards on the table, but no gold; only a heap of little written papers, and these all on Cluny’s side. Alan, besides, had an odd look, like a man not very well content; and I began to have a strong misgiving.
“I do not know if I am as well as I should be,” said I, looking at Alan; “but the little money we have has a long way to carry us.”
Alan took his under-lip into his mouth, and looked upon the ground.
“David,” says he at last, “I’ve lost it; there’s the naked truth.”
“My money too?” said I.