“Say, messmate, drop a word or two to the poor chap.”
“All right,” growled Buck, and he turned to where Mark lay alone with his eyes closed. “Come, hold up, Mr Mark, sir. Never say die. They don’t mean to kill us, or they’d have done it before. What do you say, Dan?”
“Same as you do, messmate. But what do you say to waiting until night and then as soon as they are all asleep make an escape of it?”
“Can’t be done, cookie, and Mr Mark knows as well as as I do that he’d break down before we had gone a couple of score yards. Wish I’d got my waggon here, and the span of oxen. That would just suit you now, sir.”
“Don’t talk to me, Buck; don’t talk to me.”
“Must, sir. I want to cheer you up a bit. Don’t be rough upon us two. We never meant to let you go on by yourselves, and we set the little Pig after you directly to keep his eye on you, ready for us to come up soon as you gave in and couldn’t walk any farther. And it’s my belief that that little chap has been creeping about among the leaves ever since we started again.”
Mark looked at him listlessly, and then half closed his eyes again, utterly exhausted.
“Where do you think they are going to take us, Buck?” asked Dean.
“Oh, we two have been turning that over, sir, and we both think the same thing. The black brutes have been on the hunt after us ever since we got away, and now that they have caught us they are taking us back to our old camp.”
“What makes you think that?” said Dean.