“Well, it looks very bad,” growled the man, gazing at the lad, searchingly.
“If you think a press-gang is likely to come ashore to get hold of you and your mates, why don’t you slip off into the hills for a bit?”
The man stared, and his features relaxed a little and a little more, and he caught Aleck by the sleeve.
“Look here, Master Aleck,” he said; “the captain yonder’s a gentleman, though we arn’t very good friends, but he never did anything to get any of us took.”
“Of course he didn’t.”
“Wouldn’t like you to, p’raps.”
“Why, of course he wouldn’t. If the fleet want men they’ll get them somehow, and the Revenue cutter will hunt out the smugglers sooner or later; but for you to think that I’m on the look-out always to do you a bad turn—why, it’s downright foolishness, Eben.”
“Well, I’m beginning to think it is, my lad,” said the man, smiling; “but that’s just what they thought at home, and my young brother Bill ran across to give us the warning. I put that and that together, and I felt as sure as sure that you’d come over to inform agen us.”
“But you don’t believe it now?”
“No, my lad, I don’t believe it now,” said Eben, “and I’m glad on it, because it would be a pity for a smart young chap like you to be in for it.”