“She wants to go and find Meester Stevey.”
“I have no time to argue with you, sir. Go or stay,” said the captain angrily.
“She’s chust going to stop,” said Watty sullenly.
“The boy has stuff in him,” said the captain to Mr Handscombe; “and he has a kind of attachment to Steve after all their bickerings and fighting. Now, then, we must have another search; which way do you recommend, Johannes?”
“There is no choice, sir,” said the Norseman gravely; “one place is as likely to be right as another. There is a little valley yonder behind the coal. Shall we try that?”
“Yes,” was the laconic answer; and the captain stood thinking for a few moments, and using the little glass he carried to sweep the mountain-side, and then the slopes and plain opening behind them.
“She’ll pe getting ferry hungry,” said Watty, “and she’d petter eat some of the tear.”
The captain shook his head.
“Eat, Johannes,” he said. “You, too, Handscombe.”
The Norseman nodded.