“The varmin!” he said. “The varmin! Time it were done, Master Mark. Oh yes, I’ll pick out some lads who owe ’em a grudge, same as I do. You want eight of us? Me and seven more?”
“You and Dummy, and six more.”
“Dummy! Tchah! He’s no good.”
Dummy silently dug his elbow into his master’s ribs, but it was unnecessary.
“I want you and Dummy, and six men,” said Mark decisively.
“Oh, very well, sir; you’re young master; but what you can see in that boy I don’t know. Nine on us,” he continued thoughtfully. “Twelve o’ them. ’Taren’t enough, master.”
Mark hesitated. He had not meant to speak of his allies, for fear of opposition, but concluded now that it would be better, and explained everything.
“No, Master Mark; won’t do, sir,” said Dan, shaking his head ominously. “No good can’t come o’ that. They’ll be running away, and leaving us in the lurch.”
“Nonsense. Eight men will be picked who, as you say, owe the ruffians a grudge, and they’ll fight well.”
“But they’d rather fight us, master, same as us would rather fight them.”