“Yes, the scoundrel! He was as bad as the salmon.”
“Poor old Pete!” said Nic, smiling. “He saved my life over and over again, father. I want you to take him into your service.”
“What! that poacher who used to defy us all?”
“Poachers make the best keepers, father, when they reform; and Pete has proved himself a good man and true. Will you tell him he is to stay?”
“I’ll keep a dozen of such fellows if you’ll only get strong and well again, my boy,” said the old sailor eagerly. “I’ll tell him next time we change horses. But I shall never forgive Lawrence.”
“What, father!” cried Nic, smiling. “Why?”
“An old comrade like he has always been, to have such a stupid blunder made by those under his command.”
“A terrible mistake, father; but, to be quite fair, it was all my doing, and I was hoist with my own petard.”
“No, no, Nic; you’re wrong,” said the old man, “and William Solly—an impudent rascal!—was right.”
“How, father?”