“Nay, lad, I did nowt to the dog. I did nowt—I—”
He let his hand fall, and a feeling of relief from some expectation came over his face. He had been talking to me, but it was in a curious way, and all the time he talked he seemed to be looking over my shoulder more than in my face.
But now he drew a long breath and seemed satisfied with the explanation; and just then I uttered a cry of horror, for there was a loud report, and the yard seemed to be filled with flying cinders and smoke.
Stevens gave me a grim look and laid his hand on my shoulder.
“Lucky yow weern’t theer,” he said. “Might have been hurt. Come and see.”
We joined the men who were hurrying in the direction of the smoke that obscured one end of the yard.
“What is it, Uncle Jack?” I cried, as I ran to his side.
“I don’t know yet,” he said.
“It was somewhere by the smithies.”
“Yes; that’s plain enough,” said my uncle, and we pressed on in front of the men, to come upon Pannell, tending down and rubbing his eyes.