all
youth's charm at its heyday. He clasped my hand and spake and
greeted me. 'Whither away now, wretched wight, amid these
mountain-summits alone and astray? And yonder in the styes of
Circe, transformed to swine, thy comrades lie penned and make
their lairs!'"--_Odyssey, bk. X_.

"Prosper," said my father, seriously, "we must return to the ship."

"I suppose so," I admitted; but with a rising temper, so that my tone
contradicted him.

"It is most necessary. We are no longer an army, or even a
legation."

"Nothing could be more evident. You may add, sir, that we are badly
scared, the both of us. Yet I don't stomach sailing away, at any
rate, until we have discovered what has happened to the others."
I cast a vicious glance up at the forest.

"Good Lord, child!" my father exclaimed. "Who was suggesting it?"

"You spoke of returning to the ship."

"To be sure I did. She can work round to Ajaccio and repair.
She will arrive evidently from the verge of total wreck, an ordinary
trader in ballast, with nothing suspicious about her. No questions
will be asked that Pomery cannot invent an answer for off-hand.
She will be allowed to repair, refit, and sail for reinforcements."

"Reinforcements? But where will you find reinforcements?"

"I must rely on Gervase to provide them. Meanwhile we have work on
hand. To begin with, we must clear up this mystery, which may oblige
us to camp here for some time."

"O-oh!" said I.

"You do not suggest, I hope, that we can abandon our comrades,
whatever has befallen them?"

"My dear father!" I protested.

"Tut, lad! I never supposed it of you. Well, it seems to me we are
more likely to clear up the mystery by sitting still than by beating
the woods. Do you agree?"

"To be sure," said I, "we may spare ourselves the trouble of
searching for it."

"I propose then, as our first move, that we step down to the ship
together and pack Captain Pomery off to Ajaccio with his orders--"

"Excuse me, sir," I interrupted. "_You_ shall step down to the ship,
while I wait here and guard the camp."

"My dear Prosper," said he, "I like the spirit of that offer: but,
upon my word, I hope you won't persist in it. These misadventures,
if I may confess it, get me on the raw, and I cannot leave you here
alone without feeling damnably anxious."

"Trust me, sir," I answered, "I shall be at least as uncomfortable
until you return. But I have an ink