“I say, father, I feel sure that Leather did not kick that sheep.”
“Who did then?” said the doctor.
“I don’t like to say, father.”
“That is suggesting your belief that it was Brookes, a man whom I have always found to work well in my interests, Nic. He has no spite against me.”
“Do you think the other man has?”
“I don’t know, boy. There, go on your way, and I’ll go home. One word, Nic. I want you to enjoy yourself, but I cannot have my men taken away from their work, mind that.”
The doctor cantered after the men bearing the sheep, and as Nic stood for a few minutes watching them, he heard the sheep give a piteous baa, as if protesting against its treatment, after which the men halted and changed shoulders.
Nic was too far off to see the expression of the men’s faces, but he felt pretty certain that Brookes’s was anything but pleasant, and he felt glad.
“I believe he did that out of spite against Leather,” thought Nic, “so as to make it seem as if it was through neglect. I don’t know, though, a man could hardly be such a brute.”
Nic descended into the little valley once more, and made his way along by the stream to the pool where he had left his rod.