The warning was needed, for there were steps coming in their direction, and directly after the overseer strode up.
“I thought so,” he said; “I’ve had my eye on you—you scoundrel! Every now and then your hoe has stopped, and I could tell from your manner that you were talking, and wasting your time. Here are you a good six feet behind this weak young fellow. Get on, and catch up to him.”
Nic felt stunned, and he turned to speak and exculpate his fellow-slave; but there was such an agonised, imploring look in Pete’s eyes that he was silent, and felt compelled to join in the little deception.
“Yes,” said the overseer, “a good six feet behind you, my lad, when it ought to be the other way on. Get on, you, sir, get on.”
“Yes, zur; zoon pull up, zur.”
“Zur and zoon!” cried the overseer. “Bah! what a savage burr you have.”
He went on, followed by one of the two dogs which accompanied him, the other hanging back to look up at Nic with its tail wagging slowly, till its absence was noticed and a shrill whistle rang out, which fetched it along with a rush, doubtless caused by recollections of the whip.
“Oh, Pete!” whispered Nic reproachfully.
“It’s all right, lad,” said the man, laughing merrily. “What a game it was. I didn’t mind a bit.”
“I did.”