“Ay, and so ’m I,” said the big drain delver. “Shake hands, young un. You’re English, you are. So ’m I. He’s English, lads; that’s what he is!” he roared as he seized Dick’s hand and pumped it up and down. “So ’m I.”
“Hooray!” shouted the crowd; and, seeing how the mood of all was changed, the squire refrained from speaking till the cheering was dying out, when, making signs to the men to hear him, he was about to utter a few words of a peacemaking character, but there was another burst of cheering, which was taken up again and again, the men waving their caps and flourishing their cudgels, and pressing nearer to the house.
For the moment Dick was puzzled, but he realised what it all meant directly, for, looking in the same direction as the men, it was to see that the young engineer had disregarded the doctor’s orders, and was standing at the open window, with his face very pale and his arm in a sling.
He waved his uninjured arm to command silence, and this being obtained, his voice rang out firm and clear.
“My lads,” he cried, “I know why you’ve come, and I thank you; but these people here are my very good friends, and as for the squire’s son and the wheelwright there, they saved my life last night.”
“Hooray!” roared the leader of the gang frantically; and as his companions cheered, he caught hold of Hickathrift’s hand, and shook it as earnestly as if they were sworn brothers.
“As to my wound,” continued the engineer, “I believe it was an accident; so now I ask you to go back home quietly, and good-night!”
“Well said, sir; good-night to you!” roared the leader as the window was closed. “Good-night to everybody! Come on, lads! Good-night, young un! We’re good mates, eh?”
“Yes,” said Dick, shortly.
“Then shake hands again. We don’t bear no malice, do us? See, lads. We’re mates. I wean’t laugh at you. You’re a good un, that’s what you are, and you’ll grow into a man.”