Part 36 (1/2)

Though he had asked ”what the men at the other end of the room were like,” he showed no desire to verify for himself the description I had given. He kept his back religiously turned towards his countrymen, and did not throw a single glance their way as we left the salon with the landlord, though I saw that the two young Americans were interested in him.

We returned to the door at the end of the long corridor, where we had entered the hotel ten or fifteen minutes earlier, and found Joseph, Innocentina, and the animals still sheltering against the house wall.

The porter had already retailed the bad news, and the faithful muleteer had of his own accord volunteered to play the part which the Boy and I had a.s.signed him. Though he was tired, cold, and hungry, and had the prospect of a gloomy walk, with a night of discomfort to follow, he was far from being depressed; and I thought I knew what supported him in his hour of trial.

We saw him off, followed by a piteous trail of a.s.shood, and then, s.h.i.+vering once more, we re-entered the dim corridor. Innocentina, much subdued, was with us now, carrying the famous bag in its snow-powdered _rucksack_, while a porter went before with the rest of the luggage, taken from the tired backs of our beasts. We had reached the foot of the stairs, when we came so suddenly face to face with the two Americans that it almost seemed we had stumbled upon an ambush.

They stared very hard at the Boy, who did not give them a glance, though I was conscious of a stiffening of his muscles. He turned his head a little on one side, so that the shadow of the panama eclipsed his face from their point of view; but I could see that he had first grown scarlet, then white.

”By Jove, but it can't be possible!” I heard one of the men say as we pa.s.sed and began to ascend the stairs. The answer I did not hear; but Innocentina, who was close behind me, glared with unchristian malevolence at the young men, as if instinct whispered that they were concerning themselves unnecessarily about her master's business.

The Boy ran upstairs as lightly as if he had never known fatigue. The porter showed him his room; his luggage was taken in, and then he came out to me in the pa.s.sage.

”You told Joseph that he needn't come up very early to-morrow, didn't you?” he enquired.

”Yes, as we're pretty well f.a.gged, and Chambery isn't an all-day's journey, I thought we might take our time in the morning. That suits you, doesn't it?” (It was really of him that I had been thinking, but I did not say so.)

”Oh, yes,” he answered absentmindedly, as if already his brain were busy with something else. ”What time did you fix for starting? I didn't hear?”

”I said to Joseph that it would do if he were on hand at half-past ten. You can rest till nine o'clock.”

”Thank you. And now, good night. You've been very kind to-day. Maybe I didn't seem grateful, but I was, all the same; very, very grateful.”

”Nonsense!” said I. ”If you're too tired to go down, shan't I have my dinner with you? We could have a table drawn up before the fire, and it would be quite jolly.”

He shook his head, a great weariness in his eyes. ”I'm too done up for society, even yours. I'd rather you went down. You will, won't you?”

”Certainly, if you won't have me. Rest well. I shall see that they send you up something decent.”

”It doesn't matter. I'm not as hungry as I was, somehow. Good night, Man.”

”Good night, Boy.”

”Shake hands, will you?”

He pressed mine with all his little force, and shook it again and again, looking up in my face. Then he bade me ”Good night” once more, abruptly, and retreated into his room.

I went to my quarters at the other end of the pa.s.sage, and was glad of the fire which had begun to roar fiercely in a small round stove, like a gnome with a pipe growing out of his head. I had a sponge, changed, and descended to the salon, only to learn that the eating arrangements were carried on in another building, at some distance from the hotel.

Feeling like a belated insect of summer overtaken by winter cold, I darted down the path indicated, to the restaurant, where I found the Americans, already seated at just such a long table as I had pictured, and still in their knickerbockers. There was, in the big room, a sprinkling of little tables under the closed windows, but they were not laid for a meal; and a chair being pulled out for me by a waiter, exactly opposite my two fellow-guests, I took it and sat down.

My first thought was to order something for the Little Pal, and to secure a promise that it should reach him hot, and soon. I then devoted myself to my own dinner, which would have been more enjoyable had I had the Boy's companions.h.i.+p. I had worked slowly through soup and fish, and arrived at the inevitable veal, when I was addressed by one of the Americans--him of the cleft chin and light curly hair, whose voice I had heard first in the salon.

”You came up by the mule path, didn't you?”

I answered civilly in the affirmative, aware that all my ”points” were being noted by both men.

”Must have been a stiff journey in this weather.”

”We came into the mist and snow just below the Col.”

”Your friend is done up, isn't he?”