“Then don’t, Master Nic, zur. I can’t have you wear yourself out. We’ve got to ’scape, my lad, and the boat’s the thing; but if you could get t’other two dogs as friendly as that one, we’d make for the woods. But anyhow, you’ve got to grow as strong as me; we can’t do nothing without. Master Nic—”
“Yes.”
“If it was the last words I’d got to zay, I did fight for you that night, and it waren’t my fault you was took.”
“I begin to believe it now, Pete,” was the reply.
“Do, zur: do try hard. I aren’t a bragger, Master Nic, but it’s just truth what I zay. I want to get you back again to the old country; and I can’t think o’ nought else night or day. If I can get you off, and come with you, o’ course I should like; but if I can’t, and I can get you off—there, I’ll lie down and die to do it, lad. But look here, we must only trust ourselves. If the other lot, who are making some plan of their own, knew it, they’d tell upon us and spoil us. Master Nic, can’t you believe in me!”
Nic was silent for a few moments as he turned to look in the man’s eyes.
“Yes,” he said at last; “I do believe in you.”
“And you’ll trust me, zur?”
Again there was a momentary hesitation before Nic answered, “Yes.”