The men broke into a cheer, in which Dave and Hickathrift joined; and as nothing more could be done, the little crowd separated, the men going slowly back to their huts, while the squire and Marston made for the track so as to return, talking earnestly the while.
“You talked as if the thing were a trifle,” said the squire angrily. “It will cost us hundreds!”
“Yes, but it might cost us thousands if we let the scoundrels know how big a breach they have made in our works, and they would renew the attack at once.”
“Hah, there’s something in that!” said the squire, drawing his breath in angrily through his teeth. “If I only knew who was at the bottom of it! Marston, it must be the work of a gang among your men.”
“Think so?” said the engineer quietly.
“I do.”
“But why should my men do such a dastardly act?”
“To make the job last longer.”
“Nonsense, my dear sir! We have work before us that will last us for years, for this drain is only the first of many.”
“Then who is it—who can it be?”