“I suppose not,” said the man sadly. And he turned away.
“You know you got hold of me out there by the precipice and talked about dropping me over.”
“Yes,” said Leather, starting. “It was the act of a fool; but I felt very bitter that day, sir.”
“And how do I know that you don’t feel bitter to-day?”
“Hah! How indeed!” cried the man.
Nic hesitated a moment, and then, ashamed of his suspicions, he held out the gun.
“Shoot the bird for me,” he said.
Leather looked at him keenly.
“I don’t think so now,” said Nic, as the man drew back frowning. “I want the bird. I can’t see it. I know you wouldn’t trick me.”
The man snatched the gun almost fiercely, examining the priming; and it was hard work for Nic to stand fast and force himself not to believe that he had done a foolish thing. But he did stand firm and met Leather’s flashing eyes.