“Look here, Matt, I’m tired of work. The sun shining on those sand-hills and on the far-off sea is too tempting. I shall go for a walk, and you, if you are in the mood, shall be my guide.”
She evidently was in the mood, for she was on her feet in an instant.
“All right, master,” she said, “I’ll go.”
“Very well.—Tim, bring forth some refreshment. We will refresh the inner man and girl before we start.”
Tim disappeared into the caravan. Presently he re-appeared bearing a small tray, on which was a small flask of brandy, a large jug of milk, some biscuits, and a couple of glasses. This he placed on the camp stool, which his master had just, vacated, and which, when not in use as a seat, served as a table. Brinkley poured out two glasses of milk, then, looking at Matt, he held the little flask on high.
“Brandy, Matt?”
She shook her head.
“Very well, child; I think you are wise. Here, take the milk and drink confusion to your enemies!”
Matt took the glass of milk and drank it down, while Brinkley hastened to dilute and dispose of the other. Then he gave some orders to Tim, and they started off. As they had no particular object in view, they chose the pleasantest route, and clearly the pleasantest lay across the sand-hills. Not because the sand-hills were pleasant in themselves; they were not, especially on a day when the sun was scorching the roads and making the sea like a mill-pond; but because by crossing the sand-hills one came on the other side upon a footpath which led, by various windings, gradually to the top of breezy cliffs.
To the sand-hills, therefore, they wended their way. Having gained them they followed a route which Matt knew full well, and which soon brought them to the narrow footpath beyond. During the walk she was singularly silent, and Brinkley seemed to be busily trying to work out some abstruse problem which had taken possession of his brain.