When least they expected it, however, and greatly to the surprise of both, Captain Jack and his rough companions entered the inn, and, with their old style, swaggered about and talked and cursed very loudly.
Tim, by instinct, knew who they were, and trembled.
He slunk into the dark corner still farther, so as not to be perceived, but Bob Bertram remained cool and collected.
Captain Jack called for various refreshments, and, together with a companion or two, were very busy in binding up the cuts and wounds of those who were hurt.
“You seem to have fallen into rough hands, gentlemen,” said Bob, civilly.
“Well, and what if we have,” Bates growled; “is that anything to do wi’ you? Who are you?”
“Keep your temper, Bates,” said Captain Jack; “let’s have no more quarrelling to-night. The young man didn’t mean any harm.”
“Quite true, gentlemen, quite true; we are two of the civilest fellows as ever was,” Tim began.
“And who asked you to speak?” Bates growled, in such a wicked manner as made Tim stop on the instant.
“Misfortune follows misfortune,” sighed Tim to himself; “it is out of the frying-pan into the fire. When will all these strange ups and downs cease?”