“I’m glad they escaped, poor fellows,” said Nic; “but is that scoundrel Dee with them?”
Pete was silent.
“Dead, Pete?”
“Yes, zir, ’fore we’d been gone two months,” said the man gravely. “He went at Zaunders one day with his hoe, and nearly killed him; but the dogs heard the fight, and rushed down.”
“Ah! the dogs!” cried Nic.
“Yes, zir, and what with their worrying and a shot he’d had from Zaunders, it meant a couple o’ the blacks with spades, and a grave in the woods.”
“Horrible!” ejaculated Nic.
“Yes, zir, horrible. Humpy allus hated me, and I s’pose I never liked him; but if I’d been there, zir, I’d ha’ helped him fight for his life agen them zavage dogs.”
“I know you would, Pete,” cried Nic warmly. “But what about these men—are they going to stay in the neighbourhood?”
“Not they, zir. They belong to the crew of a ship in Plymouth harbour; and zomehow they got to know that I was here. They walked all the way o’ purpose to wish me luck and zhake hands and zay they hadn’t aught agen me, for they’d found out how it was they was took. It was poor Humpy as made ’em believe it was me. They went back lars night.”