“I say, Mark,” said Dean, who had been looking on, quietly observant, while the work progressed, for as there was no trampling down, that which had been dug out kept on rising, till the hole was filled and rose up above the edges in a loose heap, “have you noticed Mak?”
“Yes,” said Mark, “and the Pig too. As usual, the doctor’s right. The more the hole gets filled up the more they seem to grow good-tempered again. Yes, they didn’t like it, and the doctor’s always right.”
“But I say, Mark, you didn’t think so when he gave you such a snubbing for rushing forward to fire the train.”
“Yes, I did,” said Mark, in a whisper. “I did think so, and I think so now, and that’s what makes it feel so hard.”
It is impossible to say whether the doctor, who was supposed to be always right, had any idea of what the boys were saying, but just then in his cheeriest tones he cried, “Come along, boys; don’t stop talking. We have done work enough for one day. Let’s go and see what Dan has ready for us in the way of cooking. I feel half starved, don’t you?”
“But Dan is helping to finish the covering in.”
“Oh, no, he is not,” said the doctor. “Brown came and fetched him half an hour ago. He has been keeping up the fire, and I daresay we shall not have to wait for our evening meal.”
The doctor started off, and the boys before following him went back to where the two blacks were standing waiting, to gaze at them with half questioning looks.
“Come along, Mak,” cried Mark cheerily. “Come along, pigmy;” and he made signs suggesting something to eat.—“Oh, it’s all right again,” he said. “They don’t mind now. Why, black Mak’s face came out all in one big smile.”
“Yes,” said Dean, “and the little Pig looked as if he would like to rub his head against you just like the old Manor House cat when we had been out.”