“Yes, Stubbs; there is no doubt a division of opinion.”
“Which means a house divided against itself, sir—enemies in camp as well as outside.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Well, Mr Darrell, under the circumstances, and as I’m made an officer, pro tempry, as they call it, perhaps it wouldn’t be out of place if I made a sort of suggestion.”
“Not at all, Stubbs,” replied Dick, pulling himself a little more together. “I shall be glad to hear anything you have to say. Of course, I am not obliged to follow your advice?”
“Cer-tain-ly not, sir. I only say what I do because I’ve been seeing what the people out here are like for the last twenty years.”
“Exactly. Well, what is it?”
“Only this, sir. Some of them with brains take to the English—you know, and including Scotch and Irish too—while the others, the benighted ones, taught by their idol-worshipping old priests, hate us like poison.”
“Yes, I know; and they’re not to be trusted.”
“That’s it, sir. Consequently, you never know when there may be a rush. It’s just as likely as not that, when you least expect it, a mob may come down upon you and never give you a chance.”