Percival stared at him—a grown man now, lanky, unhealthy, white of face.
"Does Rollo—does Lord Burdon know? Did he say you might go?"
"Told me to go to 'ell."
Percival laughed. "You'll find it that—you frightful ass."
"I'll be free," said Egbert darkly. "No man's slave I won't be any more. Every man's as good as the next where you're bound, I reckon. No more tyrangs for me. You're my sort, and always have been."
The van was up to them and pulled up with Japhra's surprised hail of greeting. Percival went to him where he sat on the forward platform. "Japhra, here's a hand for one of your crowd—a friend of mine. Is there work for him?"
Japhra looked at Egbert with unveiled belittlement. "There's work for all sorts," he said drily. "For him perhaps. Get up behind," he addressed Egbert. "I'll let old One Eye have a look at thee. He wants a hand."
Percival swung up beside Japhra and smiled good morning at Ima, who had come to the door. "Go on, Japhra."
"That's a poor lot, that friend of thine," said Japhra, clicking his tongue at Pilgrim. "How far dost thou come with us, little master?"
"All the way, Japhra."