“Say that again, lad,” cried the man, excitedly.
“What for? I say I don’t want the press-gang to drag you away, even if you are a smuggler.”
“Why?” cried the man, excitedly.
“Because it seems so hard on your poor wife.”
“Hah–ah–ah!” ejaculated the man, softly, as he turned away his face and spoke more gently. “You keep quiet here, Master Aleck, while I go and see what the cutter’s men are about. I won’t be long, and when they’ve gone I’ll help you to find the poor fellow for saying that.”
“For saying what?”
“Your words about my poor lass. Master Aleck, I’m a bad ’un, but she don’t think so, and if I don’t get back to her it’ll be the death of the poor gal. Now, after my saying that soft stuff will you go and split upon me?”
“Betray you? No, you know I won’t.”
“Yes, I know you won’t, my lad. You allus was a gentleman, Master Aleck. There, I’m off. I shan’t be long, and when I come back I’ll help you to find the poor chap as is hurt.”
“Thank you, Eben; but mind the men don’t take you.”