“Will the cutter come back, father?” I said.
“I daresay it will, to see if Uggleston’s lugger returns; but I don’t think the lugger will, and certainly Uggleston will not dare to return here to live for some time to come.”
“Then what’s to become of Bigley?” cried Bob Chowne.
“His father must settle that, my lad.”
“But till he does, father?” I said. “Will he stay here?”
“Certainly, my boy. Why not? His father rents the cottage, and his son has a perfect right there.”
“You will not turn him out, then, because his father is a smuggler?”
“I always try to be a just man, Sep,” replied my father quietly.
“Ahoy!” came from high up over our heads, and, looking up there, we could see Bigley standing on the highest part of the headland waving his cap.
“Come down!” shouted Bob and I in a breath, and he heard us, gave his cap another wave, and disappeared.