The man came up slowly, and laid the trap back in a careful way, as if to avoid making a noise, and then, after a furtive look at Jem, who gave him a sturdy stare in return, he stood leaning over the opening and listening.
Footsteps were heard directly after, and a familiar voice gave some order. Directly after the bluff-looking man with whom they had had so much dealing stepped up into the loft.
“Well, my lads,” he said, “how are the sore places?”
Jem did not answer.
“Sulky, eh? Ah, you’ll soon get over that. Now, my boy, let’s have a look at you.”
He gave Don a clap on the shoulder, and the lad started up as if from sleep, and stared at the fresh comer.
“Won’t do,” said the bluff man, laughing. “Men don’t wake up from sleep like that. Ah! Of course: now you are turning red in the face. Didn’t want to speak to me, eh? Well, you are all right, I see.”
Don did not attempt to rise from where he half sat, half lay, and the man gave a sharp look round, letting his eyes rest; for a few moments upon the window, and then turning them curiously upon the old sacking.
To Don’s horror he approached and picked up a piece close to that which served for a couch.
“How came all this here?” he said sharply.