Yussuf the Guide; Or, the Mountain Bandits. George Manville Fenn
health. Now, good day.”
The doctor left the room with Mrs. Dunn, and as he went out Mr. Burne blew a flourish, loud enough to astonish the professor, who wondered how it was that so much noise could be made by such a little man, till he remembered the penetrating nature of the sounds produced by such tiny creatures as crickets, and then he ceased to be surprised.
Chapter Four.
A Verbal Skirmish.
It seemed wonderful: one day in London, then the luggage all ticketed, the young invalid carefully carried by a couple of porters to a first-class carriage, and seated in a snug corner, when one of them touched his cap and exclaimed:
“Glad to see you come back, sir, strong enough to carry me. Pore young chap!” he said to his mate; “it do seem hard at his time o’ life.”
“Hang the fellow!” cried the lawyer; “so it does at any time of life. I don’t want to be carried by a couple of porters.”
Then there was a quick run down to Folkestone, with the patient tenderly watched by his two companions, the professor looking less eccentric in costume, for he had trusted to his tailor to make him some suitable clothing; but the lawyer looking more so, for he had insisted upon retaining his everyday-life black frock-coat and check trousers, the only change he had made being the adoption of a large leghorn straw hat with a black ribbon; on the whole as unsuitable a costume as he could have adopted for so long a journey.
“But I’ve got a couple of Holland blouses in one of my portmanteaus,” he said to Lawrence, “and these I shall wear when we get into a hotter country.”
At Folkestone, Lawrence showed no fatigue; on the contrary, when the professor suggested staying there for the night he looked disappointed, and begged that they might cross to Boulogne, as he was so anxious to see France.
Judging that it was as well not to disappoint him, and certainly advisable to take advantage of a lovely day with a pleasant breeze for the crossing, the professor decided to proceed—after a short conversation between the two elders, when a little distant feeling was removed, for the professor had felt that the lawyer was not going to turn out a very pleasant travelling companion.
“What do you think, sir?” he had said to the fierce-looking little man, who kept on attracting attention by violently blowing his nose.
“I’ll tell you what I think, professor,” was the reply. “It seems to me that the boy is a little sore and upset with his parting from his old nurse. Milk-soppish, but natural to one in his state. He wants to get right away, so as to forget the trouble in new impressions. Then, as you see, the journey so far has not hurt him, and he feels well enough to go on. Sign, sir, that nature says he is strong enough, so don’t thwart him. Seems to me, sir—snuff, snuff, snuff—that the way to do him good is to let him have his own way, so long as he doesn’t want to do anything silly. Forward!”
So they went forward, a couple of the steamer’s men lifting Lawrence carefully along the gangway and settling him in a comfortable part of the deck, which he preferred to going below; and ten minutes later the machinery made the boat quiver, the pier seemed to be running away, and the professor said quietly: “Good-bye to England.”
The sea proved to be more rough than it had seemed from the pier, and, out of about seventy passengers, it was not long before quite sixty had gone below, leaving the deck very clear; and the professor, who kept walking up and down, while the lawyer occupied a seat near Lawrence, kept watching the invalid narrowly.
But there was no sign of illness. The lad looked terribly weak and delicate, but his eyes were bright, and the red spots on his cheeks were unchanged.
“I say, Preston,” said the lawyer, when they had been to sea about a quarter of an hour, “you look very pale: if you’d like to go below I’ll stay with him.”
“Thanks, no,” was the reply; “I prefer the deck. How beautiful the chalky coast looks, Lawrence!”
“Yes, lovely,” was the reply; “but I was trying to look forward to see France. I want to see health. Looking back seems like being ill.”
The professor nodded, and said that the French coast would soon be very plain, and he stalked up and down, a magnificent specimen of humanity, with his great beard blown about by the wind, which sought in vain to play with his closely-cut hair.
“I’m sure you had better go below, professor. You look quite white,” said the lawyer again; but Mr. Preston laughed.
“I am quite well,” he said; and he took another turn up and down to look at the silvery foam churned up by the beating paddles.
“Look here!” cried the lawyer again, as the professor came and stood talking to Lawrence; “had you not better go down?”
“No. Why go down to a cabin full of sick people, when I am enjoying the fresh air, and am quite well?”
“But are you really quite well?”
“Never better in my life.”
“Then it’s too bad, sir,” cried the lawyer. “I’ve been waiting to see you give up, and if you will not, I must, for there’s something wrong with this boat.”
“Nonsense! One of the best boats on the line.”
“Then, there’s something wrong with me. I can’t enjoy my snuff, and it’s all nonsense for this boy to be called an invalid. I’m the invalid, sir, and I am horribly ill. Help me below, there’s a good fellow.”
Mr. Burne looked so deplorably miserable, and at the same time so comic, that it was impossible to avoid smiling, and as he saw this he stamped his foot.
“Laughing at me, eh? Both of you. Now, look here. I know you both feel so poorly that you don’t know what to do, and I’ll stop up on deck and watch you out of spite.”
“Nonsense! I could not help smiling,” said the professor good-humouredly. “Let me help you down.”
“Thank you, no,” said the lawyer taking off his hat to wipe his moist brow, and then putting it on again, wrong way first. “I’m going to stop on deck, sir—to stop on deck.”
He seemed to be making a tremendous effort to master the qualmish feeling that had attacked him, and in this case determination won.
A night at Boulogne, and at breakfast-time next morning Lawrence seemed no worse for the journey, so they went on at once to Paris, where a day’s rest was considered advisable, and then, the preliminaries having been arranged, the train was entered once more, and after two or three stoppages to avoid over-wearying the patient, Trieste was reached, where a couple of days had to be passed before the arrival of the steamer which was to take them to Smyrna, and perhaps farther, though the professor was of opinion that it might be wise to make that the starting-place for the interior.
But when the steamer arrived a delay of five days more ensued before a start was made; and all this time the invalid’s companions watched him anxiously.
It was in these early days a difficult thing to decide, and several times over the professor and Mr. Burne nearly came to an open rupture—one sufficiently serious to spoil the prospects of future friendly feeling.
But these little tiffs always took place unknown to Lawrence, who remained in happy ignorance of what was going on.
The disagreements generally happened something after this fashion.
Lawrence would be seated in one of the verandahs of the hotel enjoying the soft warm sea-breeze, and gazing out at the scene glowing in all the brightness of a southern sun, when the old lawyer would approach the table where, out of the lad’s sight and hearing,