"Well, he is a wild boy—always was," said Brother Bethuel reluctantly. "Lately he has been living with a gang of these whisky-men."
"And Miss Dooris knows it?"
"Yes. He was always fond of Honor when she was a child, and latterly he has—has fallen into a way of depending upon her."
"Why does he not come out of the woods, go to work, and behave like a civilized man?" said Wainwright, in a tone of disgust. "I have no patience with such fellows."
"Oh, yes, you have," said Brother Bethuel earnestly. "You are going to help him, you know."
"Well, we will send him far enough away this time—to Australia, if he will go," said Stephen. "The country will be well rid of him."
"You do not, perhaps, understand exactly," said Brother Bethuel timidly, after a moment's silence. "Eliot fought all through the war—fought bravely, nobly. But, when peace came, there seemed to be no place for him. He was not adapted to—to commerce; he felt it a degradation. Hence his present position. But he did not choose it voluntarily; he—he drifted into it."
"Yes, as you say, drifted," said Stephen dryly. "Will the other men get away in time?"
"Oh, yes; they are already gone. There is a cave, and a passage upward through clefts in the rocks to the glen where their still is; it is a natural hiding-place. But they will not even stay there; they will go to another of their haunts."
"Where?"