‘Ah, no, not that! Not that, Constantine!’
‘He’s a tender-hearted youth,’ said I, and I was smiling now. The whole episode was singularly unusual and interesting.
The boy’s eyes were on mine again; I met his glance full and square. Then I poured out some water and gave it to him. He took it with a trembling hand—the hand did not escape my notice—and drank it eagerly, setting the glass down with a sigh.
‘I am Lord Wheatley,’ said I, nodding to him. ‘You came to steal my cattle, and murder me, if it happened to be convenient, you know.’
The boy flashed out at me in a minute.
‘I didn’t. I thought you’d surrender if we got the cattle away.’
‘You thought!’ said I scornfully. ‘I suppose you did as you were bid.’
‘No; I told Constantine that they weren’t to—’ The boy stopped short, looked round him, and said in a surprised voice, ‘Where are all the rest of my people?’
‘The rest of your people,’ said I, ‘have run away, and you are in my hands. And I can do just as I please with you.’
His lips set in an obstinate curve, but he made no answer. I went on as sternly as I could.