“That’s bad,” said the visitor, after giving the man a sharp look. “What sort of fellows are they?”
“Big, strong, idle vagabonds. Scum of the town and the country round.”
“Indeed!” said the visitor, raising his eyes. “They thrash you, then, because you are not strong enough?”
“Yes; that’s it, Jack. Now, what am I to do?”
“Let me see,” said the visitor, tightening his lips. “They only come when the pool’s full of salmon, you say, after a bit of rain in the moors?”
“Yes; that’s it, Jack.”
“Then you pretty well know when to expect them?”
“Yes; that’s right.”
“How would it be, then, if you sent me word in good time in the morning? Or, no—look here, old fellow—I shall know when there is rain on the moor, and I’ll come round in this direction from the port. I’m cruising about the Channel training a lot of men. You hoist a couple of flags on the staff some morning, and that evening at dusk I’ll land a couple of boats’ crews, and have them marched up here to lay up with you and turn the tables upon the rascals. How will that do?”
Solly forgot discipline, and bent down to give one of his legs a tremendous slap, while his master made the breakfast things dance from his vigorous bang on the table.