“Oh, you needn’t mind them, sir; I’ve been reading all about ’em in the Natural History Sir John’s lent me. They always run away from you when they can.”
“And when they cannot they bite venomously,” cried Jack.
“That’s it, sir,” said Edward, “if they can.”
“And they can,” said Jack.
“If you don’t kill ’em first,” said the man, laughing, “and that’s the proper thing to do. Kill everything that wants to kill you. Don’t want me then yet, sir?”
“Only to go,” said Jack, throwing himself down again and drawing up the coverings close to his ear.
“Yes, sir; I’ll be back again at half-past seven.”
Jack made no reply, and the man went off laughing to himself.
“He’s getting stirred up,” he said. “I never saw him take so much notice before.”
Jack lay perfectly still for another hour, apparently asleep, but really thinking very deeply of his position, and of how hard it seemed to be that he should be obliged to give up his calm quiet life among his books to go upon a journey which, the more he thought of it, seemed to grow darker and more repellent.