“You’re a gen’leman, sir,” he said, “and should know better—nor to meddle in things what don’t concarn you. The Lord has putt His seal on this here hill: you let it alone—if I may make free to be His mouthpiece, like Ezekiel what was told to warn the evil doers that they come not to grief—and die.”
I laughed.
“O, you flatter yourself, Mr. Rampick!” I said. “You aren’t a bit like Ezekiel.”
He stood regarding me, half perplexed, half malignant, for a minute; then settled himself down on a stone and smoked away, silent, his eyes staring and full of a vicious resolution.
“Come on, Dick,” said Harry, seeing it obvious that the man meant to outstay us, and took my arm and walked me off.
“But we’ll have the badger, nevertheless,” he said, when we were out of hearing, “and in spite of that sot. Can’t make him out, can you? Should have thought he’d have welcomed the chance of recovering some of his old brandy tubs.”
CHAPTER II.
THE GREAT STORM.
“Which it’s well known that ’ope deferred maketh a cat sick,” said Mrs. Puddephatt, with unintentional irreverence, referring to my report to my uncle of our late meeting with Mr. Rampick. She was by this time quite in the family confidence. “Bless you, Master Richard,” said she, “it’s not the Lord’s secret the man’s so keerful of; it’s ’is hown, living all these years on the ’opes of salvidge from the ’ill, and jealous of hothers steppin’ hin and anticepting of ’im.”
Uncle Jenico laughed.
“You’re still as sceptical as ever about the earthquake, Mrs. Puddephatt,” said he. “Now, it occurs to me, if the hill was, as you suppose, a rendezvous for smugglers, who by some folly entombed themselves therein, why wasn’t the whole village plunged immediately into mourning for the loss at a blow of so many fathers and brothers?”