The night passed without trouble. The children slept soundly on their straw; Gorbo had made his bed on top of the trap-door so they felt safe enough. But in the morning there was more than a hint that some good old-fashioned trouble was coming.
Said Golithos to Gorbo (taking him quietly aside by the arm), “Would you oblige me by keeping these dear little children always close by you?”
Said Gorbo to Golithos (removing his arm), “I’m going to. But not particularly to oblige you. What’s the little game?”
“It is no little game; it is something more serious. You see I have a horrid fear that I may go back to my old disgraceful ways. The sight of these dear little plump things is a very, very great temptation to me, and I want you to help me to fight against it. I don’t want you to go away, because if I don’t have the temptation there will be no credit in conquering it—and I really hope and believe that I will be able to. Do you know that last night I wanted to have a look at them asleep, but I couldn’t open the trap-door. There seemed to be something heavy on it.”
“There was,” said Gorbo.
“I thought so. And then, do you know, I came down and sat thinking about them, and after a time I found myself sharpening a big knife in an absent-minded way. It gave me quite a shock. Now promise me that you will help me to overcome this temptation.”
“Oh, I’ll help you,” replied Gorbo.
He called to Sylvia and Joe to come down and to bring Tiger, and then he went with them down the steps to the door in the outer wall.
“Come and open this door, Golithos,” he called.
“Oh, you’re surely not thinking of leaving me!” exclaimed Golithos, clumping down after them. “I shall be greatly upset if you run away like that.”
Gorbo jerked out an arrow and laid it on his bow.
“You’ll be more upset in a moment perhaps,” he said, “if that door isn’t opened before I count ten there’ll be three of these sticking out of your silly fat head.”
Golithos jumped for the door and had it open just as Gorbo had counted up to six. As the children passed out, shrinking away from him, he bent down and held out his hand to them.
“Good-bye, little dears,” he said. “Won’t you shake hands with an old reformed person? Oh, this is unkind!”
Gorbo put his arrow back in the quiver and stood for a moment looking up at him. “You stick to watercress,” he said tauntingly. “Watercress and cold water. A slice of mangel-wurzel for Christmas. That’s about your form.”
“You have hurt me,” said Golithos, drawing himself to his full height (seven feet, one inch). His tone was not without a certain dignity.
“Get inside!” shouted Gorbo, slipping out an arrow again. “I’m not so sure I shan’t----”
But Golithos had scuttled in and banged the door and locked it. They walked along a narrow stony track that led towards some rising ground. Looking back, they saw the head of Golithos peeping over the top of his wall. So far as they could judge at that distance it had a wistful look.