“What would I have done?” said Wat. “Why, same as you did—killed him like the varmin he was, and buried him in the mixen or under the stones.”
“You really believe, then, that I killed this man in cold blood?”
“Why, of course, skipper; you couldn’t do otherwise. As to a man and cold blood! bah! he was a rat, and he was caught. Do you know how the lads searched the little valley?”
“No.”
“Crept through the wood, pooked the grass aside, and sat down and smoked,” said Wat with a chuckle.
“Then they did not properly search it?”
“Of course not,” cried Wat, gruffly. “You don’t suppose they wanted to find that girt fox, do you?”
“Wat,” cried the captain angrily, “you disobeyed my orders. That place shall be searched, and that at once.”
“What—and try to warm up the scent again, captain? Nay, he’s sattled, let sleeping dogs lie. The world’s all the better for there being no Abel Churr; and the adders and things can have a chance of marrying and having families without being pulled out of their holes by the tail.”
As he spoke, the old sailor turned away, and Gil walked to the cottage where he had his temporary home.