“There ought to be a house hereabouts,” said Gascoigne; “I should think that behind the trees we shall find one. Come, Jack, you are as hungry as I am, I’ll answer for it; we must look out for a breakfast somewhere.”
“If they won’t give us something to eat, or sell it,” replied Jack, who was ravenous, clutching his pistol, “I shall take it—I consider it no robbery. The fruits of the earth were made for us all, and it never was intended that one man should have a superfluity and another starve. The laws of equality—”
“May appear very good arguments to a starving man, I grant, but still, won’t prevent his fellow creatures from hanging him,” replied Gascoigne. “None of your confounded nonsense, Jack; no man starves with money in his pocket, and as long as you have that, leave those that have none to talk about equality and the rights of man.”
“I should like to argue that point with you, Gascoigne.”
“Tell me, do you prefer sitting down here to argue, or to look out for some breakfast, Jack?”
“Oh, the argument may be put off, but hunger cannot.”
“That’s very good philosophy, Jack, so let’s go on.”
They went through the copse of wood, which was very thick, and soon discovered the wall of a large house on the other side.
“All right,” said Jack; “but still let us reconnoitre. It’s not a farm-house; it must belong to a person of some consequence—all the better—they will see that we are gentlemen, notwithstanding our tattered dress. I suppose we are to stick to the story of the sea-mews at Gozo?”
“Yes,” replied Gascoigne; “I can think of nothing better. But the English are well received in this island; we have troops at Palermo.”