“He’s been at ’em, sir.”
“Who has been at what?”
“I don’t mean what you mean, sir. Brooky got at them two police. Know what that means?”
“About Leather?” cried Nic.
“That’s it, sir. There’ll be another hunt ’safternoon and to-morrer; and if they don’t ketch him then, when they go back they’ll take a ’spatch from Mr Dillon, and we shall have a lot of ’em down here.”
Nic’s face contracted from his mental pain.
“Don’t you look like that, my lad. They ain’t got him yet. Do you know, I shouldn’t wonder if he’s gone right away with Bung’s tribe, and they won’t get him. But I say, Master Nic, you won’t go over to the Wattles, will you?”
“No, certainly not.”
“But you’d like to hear?”
“Yes, of course.”