"Been away longer than you expected."
"Yes."
"On the tramp?"
"Yes. Look here, Corrie--"
"There's no hurry," interrupted Old Corrie. "You must be hungry. Go inside, and you'll see half a sheep dressed. Cut off what you want and cook it while the fire serves."
"But I would rather say first what I have to say. When I've told you all, my mate and I might not be welcome."
"Don't risk it, then. Never run to court trouble, Master Basil. I'm an older man than you; take the advice I give you."
"It is good advice," said Chaytor, whose appetite was sharp set, and to whom the smell of the chops was well-nigh maddening.
Old Corrie looked at him with penetrating eyes, and Chaytor bore the gaze well. He was not deficient in a certain quality of courage when he was out of peril and master of the situation, as he believed himself to be here. Old Corrie showed no sign of approval or disapproval, but proceeded quietly with his dinner. Basil took the woodman's advice. He went into the hut, cut a sufficient number of chops from the half body of the sheep which was hanging up, and came back and took possession of the frying-pan, which was now at his disposal. Chaytor looked on; he had not been made exactly welcome, and was in doubt of Old Corrie's opinion of him, therefore he did not feel warranted in making himself at home. When the young men commenced their meal, Old Corrie had finished his, and now, pipe in mouth, he leant his back against a great tree and contemplated his guests.
"Little lady! Little lady!"