“Why not, lad?” said he; “why not?”
“Break his neck, Bart?”
The big fellow nodded.
“Will you join in and risk it?”
“Won’t I?”
“Then we will,” said Abel. “Curse him, he’s most broke her heart.”
“’Cause she loves him,” growled Bart, thoughtfully.
“Yes, a silly soft thing. She might have known.”
“Then we mustn’t break his neck, Abel, lad,” said Bart shaking his head. Then, as if a bright thought had suddenly flashed across his brain—
“Look here. We’ll wait for him, and then—I ar’n’t afeard of his sword—we’ll make him marry her.”