‘Go where? and why?’
‘Yes,’ said he, with a stolid look, ‘you are.’
‘I am to do what? Speak out, boy! Who sent you here?’
‘Yes,’ said he again.
‘Are they in trouble yonder? Is there fighting at the village?’
‘No.’ And he shook his head, as though he said so regretfully.
‘Will you tell me what you mean, boy?’
‘The pony is ready?’ said he, as he stooped down to pack away the things in the basket.
‘Is that gentleman coming back here—that gentleman whom you saw with me?’
‘He is gone; he got away.’ And here he laughed in a malicious way, that was more puzzling even than his words.