"It is now close upon twelve o'clock," said Gunson, angrily, "and he has
been gone nearly three hours. If he is coming back it must be directly,
and then, with you gone, we shall miss the boat, and all our belongings
will go on up north without us. Hang him, he must be mad!"
"But I would not go far without coming back," I said.
"I think, my lad, you may save yourself the trouble."
"What do you mean? He will be back here directly?"
"No. I'm afraid," said Gunson, bitterly, "that we have been talking too
much for him lately."
"Mr Gunson?"
"We have scared him with our account of the troubles, and he has backed
out."
"Backed out?" I faltered, quite horrified at the idea of being left
alone.
"Yes, and gone into hiding until we have sailed."
"Oh, impossible!"
"No, my lad, quite possible. You saw how startled he was at the idea of
a journey through a wild country."
"No, no, I think not," I said.
"I feel nearly sure of it. He had no real reason for going out this
morning, and his excuses to get away were as slippery as could be.
Depend upon it we shall not see him again--at least, I shall not, for of
course you will wait for him."
"If I thought he could play such a mean, deceitful trick I should go
without him," I said hotly.
"Indeed? Well then, my lad, you had better come, for it is high time we
were off."
I stared at him wildly, for what he had said seemed terribly likely.
Esau had been startled on hearing the real difficulties and dangers that
we had to go through, and much as he seemed to like me, he might have
been overcome by his thoughts, and at the last moment felt that he must
turn tail.
"Well?" said Gunson, "what do you say? Will you come? I must be off
almost directly."
"Yes," I said, "you must go, but I'm sure Esau is in some trouble. He
could not be such a coward as that."
"Then you will not go with me?"
"I would if I could think as you do," I said; "but I'm sure he would not
forsake me."
"Human nature, boy."
"It isn't his human nature," I said boldly. "If he had wanted to back
out he would have confided in me, and wanted me to go with him till you
had sailed."
"I have no time to argue," said Gunson sternly. "What are you going to
do?"
"I must try and find my companion."
"But your chests?--they will be taken on to Esquimalt."
"We should have to go up and claim them afterwards."
"You believe, then, that he is staunch?"
"I am sure of it, sir."
"Well, then, good-bye, my lad. I'll speak to the captain about your
chests, and have them left with the agents of the ship, but you will
have to give up your passage-money. There will be no getting that
back."
"I'm afraid not," I said gloomily.
"Yes, they may sail at any time," said Gunson, impatiently. "Better go
with me, boy."
"No," I said.
"You are giving up your passage and your chances for the sake of a
fellow not worth his salt."
"You don't know him as I do," I replied. "I will not believe it of
him."
"Well, if he is not staunch you are, at all events, my lad. Good-bye.
If he does come back run down to the wharf at once, the schooner may not
have sailed."
"He has got into some trouble, I'm sure," I cried.
"Good-bye."
"Good-bye," I said, holding out my hand; but my lips quivered, for I was
horribly disappointed.
"Once more," cried Mr Gunson, as he gripped my hand hard, "I tell you
he is playing you false. You had better come."
"No."
"You are not afraid, are you?"