“But what about the hammer and bar?”
Vince opened his jersey to show the head of the hammer on one side, the crowbar on the other, snugly tucked in the waistband of his trousers.
“Well done! that’s capital!” cried Mike. And the two lads went off in the direction of the Scraw, but in a zigzag fashion, as if their intentions were entirely different; and this at Vince’s wish, for he had a strong impression that old Daygo was keeping an eye upon their movements, though Mike laughed at the idea.
“I don’t feel nervous about it now, do you?” said Vince, as soon as they were well under cover of the rugged ground.
“No; but I don’t like to think about that ugly slip you had,” said Mike thoughtfully.
“I didn’t have an ugly slip: you knocked me over.”
“Oh, well, I couldn’t help it, could I? and I did hold on till you got out of it.”
“Never mind that now,” said Vince; “let’s think about what we are going to do. There’ll be no danger so long as we are careful—and I mean to be, very, and so I tell you. Wonder whether we shall see our black friend? I say, didn’t it seem as if it was on the look-out for us to have a bad accident?”
“No: seemed as if it was on the look-out to keep us from finding its nest.”
They chatted away merrily enough till they had nearly reached the chaos of tumbled-together rocks, when, in spite of the bright sunshine and blue sky overhead, the wildness of the place once more impressed them unpleasantly, and, instead of the cheery conversation and banter in which they had indulged, they became quiet, only speaking at intervals, and then in quite a low tone.