Diomé was standing moodily by the fire. He started.
"Well," demanded Mr. De Brunier, "how goes the night?"
"For God's sake keep out of the way, sir. They have made this hut the rendezvous, believing you had started hours ago," exclaimed Diomé brightening.
"Did you think I had deserted the poor boy?" asked Mr. De Brunier.
"I was thinking," answered Diomé, waiving the question, "Dick Vanner is a dangerous fellow to thwart when the bowie-knife is in his hand."
"Well, you will see it done, and then you may find him not quite so dangerous as he seems," was the quiet reply.
CHAPTER XV.
TO THE RESCUE.
Diomé had no more information to give. "For the love of life, sir," he entreated, as the brief conference ended, "move off to the other side of the house, or you will be seen by Vanner as he returns. A hunter's eye, Mr. De Brunier, notices the least change in the shadows. You mean to hide among the orchard trees, but you can't stand still. You will be frozen to death, and a moving shadow will betray you."
His cautionary counsels were wasted on a preoccupied mind. De Brunier was examining the fastenings of the door. There was a lock, but the key was with the owners of the hut. There was also a bar which secured it on the inside. Forgill's basket of tools stood by the chimney.