“No; he is not at bottom selfish. Thoughtless—yes; and he has the vices of his virtues. He is so bold, and so resolute in action—so enjoys the peril he creates. Can’t you see what such a character wants? You may rest assured, my dear Archie, that he is quite enough punished.”
“I don’t want to hear any more, Anne. He has behaved like a blackguard.”
“Confound the women!” he said, and walked away; but in an hour was at the shore to meet Jack, who landed a little dismayed, his grunting cub still expostulating in the only language known to juvenile bears.
“Well, sir! I have heard this agreeable story!”
Now, a good kicking would have been preferred by any of these boys to the father’s sarcasm.
“Go up to the house, undress, and go to bed. I don’t want to see you for a day. No words, sir, or I shall lose my temper. Off with you—you are not fit to associate with gentlemen.”
Without a word more, Jack went up the steps and did as he was told; in consequence of which Margaret wept a little, and Anne, who thought on the whole that Jack had gotten off better than she expected, betook herself to her books, with a full determination to have it out with the boy in her own way, and at a later date.
It was well into the afternoon when Carington reached his camp, and found Ellett still away on the river.
“I shall catch it!” said Fred, with a grin at the prospect. He made use of the interval to change his clothes and get rid of the stained garments, after which he ordered a smudge, pulled open the tent-flaps, and cast himself on the camp mattress, for the first time realizing that he was tired, or, at least, had that sense of languor which follows upon intense excitement. The tent-fly was up—the triangular space thus open to view framed prettily the beach, the men and canoes, the river, and the hills beyond. The smoke of the cedar-smudge at times dimmed the picture. At last, being absolutely comfortable, the cushions just right, the midge and black fly routed, he carefully filled and lit his pipe, reflecting, as he did so, on the varied value of tobacco, which he had never misused. Next he sought in one pocket after another, until he came upon a worn note-book. Among its scraps of verse and memoranda he found the well-known apostrophe of El Din Attar to the pipe. He read it with a smile.