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Eliza Cotton had been sewing down on the Flats for over a week and he had not had any fun for a long time. He was just sweeping the valley with his green eyes like a huge spider in search of prey, when he caught sight of a tempting fly. The young minister was coming up the leaf-strewn path by the roadside. He was just turning in at the McNabbs' gateway, when Coonie pulled up.
The thought that one of his men was perhaps mortally wounded, abandoned to his fate, calling in vain on those for whose sake he had gone forth, was a torture to him. McNabbs was not sure that he should be able to restrain him, or if Glenarvan, carried away by his feelings, would not run into the arms of Ben Joyce. "Edward," said he, "be calm. Listen to me as a friend.
The supper was a dull meal, and neither appetizing nor reviving. Only the Major seemed to eat with any relish. The impassive McNabbs was superior to all circumstances. Paganel, Frenchman as he was, tried to joke, but the attempt was a failure. "My jests are damp," he said, "they miss fire."
This was the mystery to be unraveled, and the Major soon explained it. Ever since their first meeting, McNabbs had felt an instinctive distrust of the quartermaster.
McNabbs undertook the task of rousing Lord Glenarvan from his grief. For a long time his cousin seemed not to hear him. At last he shook his head, and said, almost in-audibly: "Did you say we must start?" "Yes, we must start." "Wait one hour longer." "Yes, we'll wait another," replied the Major. The hour slipped away, and again Glenarvan begged for longer grace.
"That would be a difficult matter, for an Indian knows nothing about degrees, and the finding of the document would appear to him a mere fantastic story." "Is it the story he would not understand, or the storyteller?" said McNabbs, quietly "Ah, McNabbs, I see you have small faith in my Spanish yet." "Well, try it, my good friend." "So I will."
But the first thing he did on recovering his memory and speech was to ask for Lord Glenarvan, or, failing him, the Major. McNabbs seeing him so weak, would have forbidden any conversation; but Mulrady insisted with such energy that the Major had to give in. The interview had already lasted some minutes when Glenarvan returned. There was nothing for it but to await the return of McNabbs.
But in spite of interrogations, allusions, and suspicions on the part of McNabbs, Paganel would not unbutton. Not even when the DUNCAN crossed the line, and the heat was so great that the seams of the deck were melting. "He is so DISTRAIT that he thinks he is at St.
Ayrton removed the hobbles from the bullock and Mulrady from the horse, and they began to return to the encampment, following the winding margin of the river. In half an hour they rejoined Paganel, and McNabbs, and the ladies, and told them of this fresh disaster.
Nothing was audible but the moan of the Snowy River, as it flowed between the motionless reeds and the dark curtain of gum trees. The silence seemed deeper in these momentary lulls, and the Major and John Mangles listened attentively. During one of these calms a sharp whistle reached them. John Mangles went hurriedly up to the Major. "You heard that?" he asked. "Yes," said McNabbs.
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