“Yes, and they’d ha’ been all right now if you’d looked arter them ’stead o’ wasting your time fishing,” growled Brookes. “I’m glad master’s here to know.”
“Were you fishing, sir?” said the doctor sternly; but before Leather could answer Nic cried quickly:
“No, father, he wasn’t. He came down to the river to get me a few baits. I wanted him there. Why didn’t Brookes help the sheep out?”
“Because it was the other man’s duty, sir,” said the doctor quickly; and Leather gave the boy a sharp look, as much as to say, “Don’t speak, sir; you’ll make things worse.”
“Ah, you needn’t signal the young master to take yer part,” cried Brookes. “It’s true enough; you ain’t worth your salt on the station.”
“That will do, Brookes,” said the doctor.
“Oh, I don’t want to say nothing, sir. I was only looking arter your property.”
“Tut, tut, tut!” cried the doctor, as he felt the sheep’s leg. “One of my choicest ewes. The leg’s broken. That active sheep couldn’t have broken its leg through falling down there. It would have jumped it like a goat. Why, Leather, the poor brute has been savagely kicked.”
“It looks like it, sir,” said the convict quietly.
“Why, so it do,” chimed in Brookes, as he bent over the helpless sheep.