“Lucky for yow that one of yo’ spoke,” he said. “I heard you coming, and was lying wait for you. Don’t do it agen, mesters. I might hev half-killed yo’.”
“Next time you lie in wait,” said Uncle Dick, “don’t breathe so loudly, my man, or you will never trap the visitors. They may think you are asleep.”
“Give him another chance,” said Uncle Jack as we went home.
“Yes,” said Uncle Bob; “it is partly our fault. If we had visited him once or twice he would have been always on the watch.”
“Well,” said Uncle Dick, “I don’t want to be unmerciful, and it will be a lesson. He’ll work hard to regain our confidence.”
Next morning there were two letters in strange hands, which Uncle Jack read and then handed round.
One was a threat such as had often been received before; but the other was of a very different class. It was as follows:
“Mesters,—There’s somewhat up. We don’t kno wat, but game o’ some kind’s going to be played. Owd Tommy Searby gos sleep ivvery night, and he’s no good. Some on us gives a look now an’ then o’ nights but yowd beter wetch im place yoursens.—Some frends.”
“That’s genuine,” said Uncle Dick emphatically. “What’s to be done?”
“Go and do as they advise,” said Uncle Jack. “You see we have won the fellows over, and they actually act as a sort of police for us.”