False EvidenceOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
False Evidence
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Soldiers -- Fiction
There is no need to reproduce the arguments he used, or my stubborn
opposition. We talked till the sun sank down, tinging the glass-like
sea into which it sank and the clouds in the western horizon with
glowing tints of orange and purple and gold. And when the last word
had been spoken it was I who was unshaken in my resolve, and he who was
yielding. For we had agreed that for a time, at any rate, we would
live together.
The shades of evening had fallen with a suddenness which to me seemed
strange, but to which my father was accustomed.
"We must part for to-night, at any rate, Hugh," he exclaimed, rising.
"It will be dark in half-an-hour. I must call young Pietro to guide
you back to the town, unless," he added, hesitatingly, "you would care
to come on and rough it with us for a night. I can only offer you a
shake-down of dried leaves."
"With you, by all means," I answered, quickly. "One could sleep out of
doors in this country."
"Come, then," he said, and, arm-in-arm, we struck over the heath,
following no path, for the simple reason that there was none, but
aiming for one of the heights of the range of hills before us, and
skirting, at a respectable distance, the cleft-like precipice which
stretched yawning by our side.
CHAPTER XXXII
THE BRIGANDS' HOME
It was a strange, wild, magnificent spot. A deep gorge running inland
from the sea, only avoided cutting into the precipice which we were
carefully avoiding, by a strip of turf a few yards wide, along which we
passed, and by which alone access could be obtained to our destination.
It curled in a zig-zag position, sometimes wider, sometimes narrower,
towards a low promontory fronting the sea--for the gorge seemed to take
a complete circle. As we neared this hill I could see that it was a
far more fertile one than most of the country around. Up one side
stretched a vineyard, and little knolls of olive and cypress trees were
dotted about on the summit, which seemed enclosed by a thick hedge of
wild aloes. A keen, piercing whistle greeted our approach, to which my
father at once replied. Then there was silence.
We climbed right up the side and passed over the summit of the hill
without seeing a sign of any human being or habitation. I looked at my
father inquiringly, but he only smiled.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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