The man rose and looked at him, but although he nodded his head in assent he made no allusion to their late peril or made any attempt to thank his preserver.
They scrambled up the beach for some little distance, then Stumpy stopped.
"It's no use of my going any farther, sir; I can't indeed."
Leicester, fully appreciating the "sir," by which the man addressed him, stared in astonishment.
"Why not, man? We must go on! Why should you be afraid to go on? This is Ireland, you say. Do you fear anything from the people on the coast? Ah, I forgot!" he added, as the remembrance of his comrade's occupation flashed on him. "You fear the coastguard!"
"That's it," said Stumpy. "I should be in quod in half an hour."
"But how should they know you?" asked Leicester. "You need not proclaim yourself."
"No need for that, sir," said Stumpy, with a grin. "Look here," and he pulled up the bottom of his trousers and showed Leicester a mark branded upon his leg.
Leicester colored in spite of himself.
"You are a convict!" he said.