“Hah!” ejaculated Wat, exhaling a thin puff of fine blue smoke and gazing straight before him through the sun-pleached foliage of the forest.
“Do you hear me?” cried Gil, impatiently, as he stamped his heavy foot upon the moss.
“Hah!” ejaculated Wat again. “I was there on the watch.”
“Yes, yes; and what did you see?”
“Mas’ Cobbe come out soon after you had gone across the little bridge and pook it out of the way.”
“Yes, yes; go on.”
“Then I give you the signal two or three times before I could make you hear, and just then I heard another step and hid away, and ’fore I had time to do more—in he went. You know.”
“Yes; but look here, Wat, how came you to be there?”
“I was there to save my skipper from being pooked,” growled Wat, slowly and between puffs of his pipe. “It was as if I had been sent on purpose.”
“It’s a lie,” cried Gil, angrily. “Wat, you are an old trickster and a cheat. How dare you try to deceive me?”