A few hours earlier Nic would have said, “No,” and nothing more.
“Think I do,” said Pete, brightening up. “I mean to get it out of the niggers zomehow. We never zee it go after they’ve been out in it. They tie it up at night, and next morning it’s always gone.”
“Yes,” said Nic; “I have noticed that.”
“It’s that Zamson and old Xerxes who take it away zomewhere in the night, and walk or zwim back.”
“Very likely, Pete.”
“Yes, Master Nic; that’s it; but keep on hoeing. I’ve laid awake nights thinking about it, for we must have that boat. I don’t mean Humpy Dee and his lot when I zay ‘we,’ because you will go off wi’ me if I zee a chance?”
“I—I think not, Pete.”
“Master Nic!”
“Well, yes, then; I will.”
“Hab, my lad; you zeem to ha’ put life into a man. There’s zummat to live for now. I’ve thought and thought till I’ve felt zick; but that’s the on’y way. I could risk running for it; but there’s the dogs—the dogs—Pst! look out!”