“Why, how could I?”
“Ah! I forgot; you don’t know. But never mind, you’ll arrive at years of discretion some day, Cob, and then you will be trusted with the secret.”
“I consider that he could be trusted now,” cried Uncle Dick. “I am quite willing to show him whenever he likes. We make a fresh batch to-morrow.”
“No,” I said; “I don’t want to be shown yet. I can wait.”
“Is that meant sulkily, or is it manly frankness?” said Uncle Jack sharply.
“Oh, I’ll answer that,” replied Uncle Dick—“certainly not sulkily.”
“I endorse that,” said Uncle Bob; and I gave them both a grateful look.
“He shall learn everything we know,” said Dick. “It is his right as his father’s son. If we have not shown him sooner it is on account of his father’s interests, and because we felt that a secret that means property or nothing is rather a weighty one for a lad of his years to bear. Well, once more, Cob, you will not mind being left?”
“No,” I said, “you will not be away many hours. The men will hardly know that you have gone, and if they were to turn disagreeable I’m sure Pannell would help me.”
“Oh, there’s no fear of any open annoyance,” said Uncle Jack; “the men have been remarkably quiet since we caught Master Gentles. By the way, anyone know how he is?”