The idea of travelling was not allowed to cool. A few days passed, during which the project was discussed, and one morning during breakfast the baronet broke out with, "I don't want to get rid of you boys, but I lie awake of a night now, thinking of you going on such an expedition with the doctor, then growl and grumble at myself with envy." "Then you really mean us to go, father?" "Mean it, yes. But it comes hard that you two should have father and uncle who is ready to lay down the money--the bank notes to pay for it all, and here am I going to be left at home longing for letters that can only possibly come at very long intervals." "Oh, father, but we shall write regularly," cried Mark. "Of course!" said Sir James sarcastically. "Sit down at the end of a day's tramp, when you are tired out, at a comfortable library table, with a light of a shaded lamp, and write me a good long letter? Rubbish, sir! You will neither of you be in the humour for writing right away there in some forest." "Oh, of course, uncle," cried Dean, "we shan't have a chance to sit down at a table to write, but we shall take each of us a writing case." "Humph! Will you? I doubt it, boy; and even if you did you wouldn't be able to get at it when you were in the humour to write; and then if you did scrawl something with a pencil on a scrap of paper, where would you post your letter? In some hollow tree, or tuck it in a bladder and send it floating down a river with a direction scratched on a tin label? Bah! The doctor will take you right away into some wilds, and I shall get no letter for months, and months, and months." "Oh, father," said Mark sadly, "I never thought of that! It would be hard, dad; and it seems selfish. It's all over. I shan't go." "Oh!" said Sir James, trying to frown very severely, and forcing a very peculiar husky cough. "Dear, dear, how tiresome!" he cried. "Haven't got a lozenge in your pocket, have you, Dean?" "No, uncle. Shall I get you a glass of water?" "No, sir," almost shouted his uncle. "You know I hate cold water. Dear, dear! Barking like this, just as if something has gone the wrong way!" And the baronet pulled out a big silk handkerchief and began blowing his nose violently. "Ah, that's better now. Can't be cold coming on. Ah, much better now." Then next moment he had clapped his hand smartly down on Mark's shoulder, and the doctor noticed that he kept it there, while there was an artificial ring in his voice as he continued, "Oh, you won't go, sir, won't you?" "No, father," cried the boy firmly, and he gave his prisoned shoulder a hitch as if to free himself from the pressure, which immediately grew tighter. "Oh, that's it, is it, sir? Now that I have made up my mind to it and am going to start you all off with a first class equipment, you tell me you are going to play the disobedient young dog, and plump out in a most insolent way--you heard him doctor?--that you won't go!"