“There’s a man they call Flash Jack—do you know him?”
“Perhaps I do, and perhaps I don’t,” said the sage in a surly tone.
“Well, he told me to ask you to help us. He said to tell you that he particularly wanted you to give evidence if you can.”
“Want’ll be his master, then,” snarled the old man.
“He said he would put the police on to a job about some cattle at Cross-roads,” said Hugh.
The rage fairly flashed out of Considine’s eyes.
“He said that, did he?” he yelled. “The rotten informer! Well, you tell Flash Jack from me that where he can put me away for one thing I can put him away for half-a-dozen; and if I go into gaol for a five-stretch he goes in for ten. I ain’t afraid of Flash Jack, nor you either. See that, now!”
Hugh felt that his mission had failed. He pulled out the summons as a last resource, and passed it to the old man.
“What’s this?” he said.
“Summons to give evidence,” said Hugh.