“Nay, I shall go out as I come in. Mayn’t be seen then. Mebbe the lads’ll be watching by the gate.”
He stalked out, and as I followed him I saw his tall gaunt figure going to the corner of the yard where the trap was set, and then there was a scuffling noise, and he had gone.
I left the place soon after, and as I fastened the gate I fancied I saw Stevens and a man who limped in his walk; but I could not be sure, for the gas lamp cast but a very feeble light, and I was too eager to get home and change my things to stop and watch.
The run did me good, and by the time I had on a dry suit I was very little the worse for my immersion, being able to smile as I told my uncles at their return.
They looked serious enough, though, and Uncle Jack said it was all owing to the trap.
The question of putting the matter in the hands of the police was again well debated, but not carried out—my uncles concluding that it would do no good even if the right man were caught, for in punishing him we should only have the rest who were banded together more bitter against us.
“Better carry on the war alone,” said Uncle Dick; “we must win in the end.”
“If we are not first worn-out,” said the others.
“Which we shall not be,” cried Uncle Dick, laughing. “There are three of us to wear out, and as one gets tired it will enrage the others; while when all three of us are worn-out we can depute Cob to carry on the war, and he is as obstinate as all three of us put together.”
They looked at me and laughed, but I felt too much stirred to follow their example.