‘I waint come a-near the water. You trust me—I minds them as is kind to me’—and a thought seemed suddenly to lighten up his dull intelligence.
‘I say, Paul, hark you here. I see that Bantam into D * * * t’other day.’
‘What! is he down already?’
‘With a dog-cart; he and another of his pals; and I see ’em take out a silk flue, I did. So, says I, you maunt be trying that ere along o’ the Whitford trout; they kepers is out o’ nights so sure as the moon.’
‘You didn’t know that. Lying again!’
‘No, but I sayed it in course. I didn’t want they a-robbing here; so I think they worked mainly up Squire Vaurien’s water.’
‘I wish I’d caught them here,’ quoth Tregarva, grimly enough; ‘though I don’t think they came, or I should have seen the track on the banks.’
‘But he sayed like, as how he should be down here again about pheasant shooting.’
‘Trust him for it. Let us know, now, if you see him.’
‘And that I will, too. I wouldn’t save a feather for that ’ere old rascal, Harry. If the devil don’t have he, I don’t see no use in keeping no devil. But I minds them as has mercy on me, though my name is Crawy. Ay,’ he added, bitterly, ‘’tain’t so many kind turns as I gets in this life, that I can afford to forget e’er a one.’ And he sneaked off, with the deaf dog at his heels.