“Then we must camp here for a few hours. Fortunately we have a little of the provisions in our satchels. Where’s the rest of the meat, my lad?”
Watty turned more red than usual. “There isna a pit left, sir. Meester Stevey ate oop a’ there wass left.”
“Bravo, Steve, my boy!” cried the doctor merrily. “Any one who can eat well has not much the matter with him.”
“I felt starved when I came back,” said Steve, colouring. “I couldn’t help it.”
Watty looked horribly guilty; but his was not the nature to make a clean breast of the matter, and he sat furtively watching the little party as the provisions were brought out; and free from care now, they all began to eat.
“Here, Watty,” said Steve, as soon as he received a portion, “we must not forget you.”
“Na, sir, she couldna eat a pit,” cried the lad truthfully, and it was only by great persuasion that his modesty was overcome; but certainly he did not do justice to the biscuits and cheese handed to him, for there were limits even to his capacity.
Just as they had about finished, a distant barking was heard, and Steve tried to stand up, but sank back with a groan.
“Skeny!” he cried. “Oh, I say, I am stiff!”
“The dog! Ah, where has he been all this time?”