Part 33 (1/2)

”Who--the fellow Julius she talks about?” asked the major, beginning to feel very warm.

”The fellow Julius! Why, Julius is the dog!”

The major rose from his seat in agitation, and stood before his friend.

”Forrester,” said he solemnly, ”as soon as I see the joke I'll laugh.

Meanwhile tell me this. Who in the name of mystery is it who feels his anomalous position at Wildtree, the man or the dog?”

Captain Forrester held gallantly on to his chair to prevent falling off; and the native without, hearing his shouts, looked in at the door to see what the sahib wanted.

”My dear fellow,” said he at last, ”I begin to think I know more than you. Can't you see this daughter of yours is decidedly interested in this young _protege_ of her uncle?”

”Most decidedly I see that.”

”And that in order to throw dust in your fatherly old eyes, she makes a great gush about the dog Julius, and says hardly a word about the master, whose name does not appear.”

Major Atherton took up the letter again and glanced through it, and a light began to break on his puzzled countenance.

”Then,” said he, ”the fellow who's handsome and clever and a perfect darling is--”

”Is the bow-wow. And the fellow who's hunted-looking and not allowed in the drawing-room is his master.”

Major Atherton resumed his chair, and once more planted his feet on the table.

”That is a way of putting it, certainly. If so, it's a relief.”

”My dear boy, keep your eye on that librarian, or he may change places with his dog in double-quick time.”

The major laughed, and a pause ensued. Then Forrester said--

”Two or three days more, and we ought to be in Kandahar.”

”We are to have a stiff brush or two before we get there,” said the major; ”any hour now may bring us to close quarters.”

There was another pause. Captain Forrester fidgeted about uneasily, and presently said--

”It's possible, old man, only one of us may get through. If I am the one who is left behind, will you promise me something?”

”You know I will.”

”That boy of mine, Atherton, is somewhere, I'm as sure of it as that I'm sitting here. He's vanished. My letters to Grangerham cannot all have miscarried, and they certainly have none of them been answered. My mother-in-law, as I told you, died in the south of England. The boy may have been with her, or left behind in Grangerham, or he may be anywhere.

I told you of the letter I had from the school?”

”Yes; he had had an accident and gone home damaged--crippled, in fact.”

”Yes,” said Captain Forrester, with a groan, ”crippled--and perhaps left without a friend.”

”You want me to promise to find him if you are not there to do it, and be a father to him. You needn't ask it, old man, for I promise.”

”I've nothing to leave him,” said Captain Forrester, ”except my sword and this watch--”