Jeffreys’ answer was curt and decisive.
He took the boy up in his arms as if he had been a baby, and, despite all protestations, carried him.
On level ground and under ordinary circumstances it would have been a simple matter. For Jeffreys was brawny and powerful; and the light weight of the slender, wiry boy was nothing to him. But on that slippery mountain-side, after the fatigue and peril of the afternoon, it was as much as he could do to stagger forward under the burden.
Yet—was it quite unnatural?—a strange sort of happiness seemed to take possession of him as he felt this helpless boy’s form in his arms, the head drooped on his shoulder, and the poor bruised arm tenderly supported in his hand. There seemed hope in the burden; and in that brotherly service a promise of expiation for another still more sacred service which had been denied him! He tramped down that long gradual slope in a contented dream, halting often to rest, but never losing heart. Percy, too exhausted to remonstrate, yielded himself gratefully, and lay only half conscious in his protector’s arms, often fancying himself at home in bed or lolling idly in the summer fields.
It may have been midnight, or later still, when Jeffreys, looking beyond the shadows projected by the moon in front of him, perceived a gleam of light far down in the valley.
“Probably,” thought he, “some honest shepherd, after his day’s work, is happily going to rest. Think of a bed, and a pillow, and a blanket!”
But no, the light—the lights, there were two—were moving—moving rapidly and evenly.
Jeffreys stood still to listen. The wind had long since dropped into rest, and the clear night air would have carried a sound twice the distance. Yes, it was a cart or a carriage, and he could even detect the clatter of the horses on the hard road. Possibly some benighted wagoner, or a mail cart.
He raised a shout which scared the sleeping rabbits in their holes and made the hill across the valley wake with echoes. The lights still moved on. He set Percy down tenderly on the grass with his coat beneath him. Then, running with all his speed, he halved the distance which separated him and the road, and shouted again.
This time the clatter of the hoofs stopped abruptly and the lights stood still.