“Yes, sir, of course; but this here won’t do no harm. Look here, my lads; as soon as ever we’re at it, hit hard at every one who aren’t a Jack. You’ll know them.”
Nic felt that this addition could do no harm, so he did not interfere, but led on right past the way down to the falls, which had shrunk now to a little cascade falling with a pleasant murmur, for the draining of the heavy thunder-showers was nearly at an end, and the pool lay calm enough in the black darkness beneath the overhanging rocks and spreading trees—just in the right condition for a raid, and in all probability full of salmon.
All at once the old sailor indulged in a burst of chuckles.
“Hear something, Bill?” said Nic.
“No, my lad, not yet; I was on’y thinking. They was going to bring a cart up the road yonder, waren’t they?”
“Yes; one of the men said so,” replied Nic.
“Well, we’re a-going to give ’em something to take back in that cart to-night, my lad,” whispered the man, with another chuckle; “and it won’t be fish, nor it won’t be fowl. My fingers is a-tingling so that I thought something was the matter, and I tried to change my stick from my right hand into my left.”
“Well, what of that?” said Nic contemptuously; “it was only pins and needles.”
“Nay, Master Nic, it waren’t that. I’ve been a sailor in the king’s ships and have had it before. It was the fighting-stuff running down to the very tips of my fingers, and they wouldn’t let go.”
“Hush! don’t talk now,” whispered Nic; “there may be one or two of the enemy yonder.”