That night they passed under a thorn hedge, which proved, as Gervase found, a cold and uncomfortable lodging, and afforded little protection from the night dews and the wind that blew across the open with a shrewd and penetrating keenness. To Macpherson it mattered not at all, for, rolled in his cloak, he slept the sleep of the just, and did not awake till the morning was some way up. But Gervase could not sleep. Above his head the jewels in the sword-belt of Orion flashed with a bright and still a brighter lustre, and the wind seemed to call with almost a human articulateness from the distant hills. The lonely night with its mystery and silence, was instinct with life. In such a presence his own fate seemed to dwindle into infinitely little importance, and all human endeavour appeared of no greater moment than that of the ant or the mole in the ditch hard by. Gervase was not given to talking sermons nor to much introspection, but he felt these things in his own way. He was glad when he saw the morning coming up; and when he arose from his damp uncomfortable couch, felt little inclination for a day´s hard work. But when he had bathed his face and hands in the neighbouring rivulet, and partaken of the breakfast Macpherson insisted on their making before they started, life assumed a somewhat brighter outlook, and his flagging spirits revived a little.
Macpherson´s spirits were keen and high. The prospect of danger ever acted upon him like wine, and Gervase saw his eyes kindle, now and again, under his rugged brows, with that sudden flashing light he had seen in them before, in the time of peril. He had loaded his pistol afresh and carefully looked to its priming.
“We may fall in with the enemy now at any moment,” he said, “and it behoves us to be ready either for peace or war. Peace I should prefer, but if, haply, the rogues number not more than half a dozen, a skirmish were not out of place to afford us a little amusement. A young soldier requires practice, and cannot have his hand in too often.”
“Faith!” said Gervase laughing, “fighting would seem to be meat and drink to you, but I have not yet acquired such relish for the fare that I cannot do without it. I fear you are like to prove a troublesome companion for all your boasted diplomacy.”