Samson Disobeys Orders.
“Ho! Scar!”
No answer.
“Hoi! Scar Markham!”
The second call was louder, and this time Fred Forrester had thrust his head down the hole, so that his voice went echoing along the passage, and died away in a whisper; but the only effect it had was to produce a low chuckling sound from Samson.
“What are you laughing at, sir?” cried Fred, angrily.
“Only at you, Master Fred, sir.”
“How dare—”
“No, no; don’t be cross with me, sir. I only felt as you’d have felt if you’d been me, and I’d been you.”
“What do you mean?”