“Zen ve meet here at zis place to-morrow?”
“Yes; to-morrow night at half-past seven.”
The two strangers went away quietly by the road they had come.
Tom and Dave might have been dead, they lay so still. At length—long after the last sound of receding footsteps had died out—Tom spoke in a hollow whisper:
“Do you know what they was takin’ about, Dave?”
“No,” replied Dave; “do you?”
“Some of it,” said Tom, “most of it, I think.”
“Do you think they’re gone?” asked the younger boy.
“Yes; they’re gone for now.”