“So I am,” cried the fellow fiercely. “Who says I ar’n’t?”
“I do!” cried Waller, dashing his arm away. “For the sake of a warm waistcoat and a pair of stout boots you would give up that poor fellow to be hanged, or see him shot!”
“Not me, lad!” cried Bunny fiercely.
“You would, sir! Why, I’d sooner go shivering and barefoot all my days than even think of such a thing.”
“Phe-ew!” growled the man, and he began scratching the thick, dark curls, almost negro-like, that covered his head and hung over his broad brown temples. “Why, I never thought anything like that, Master Waller. Why, I wouldn’t go and see a man shot nor hung for love or money! I only thought about that chap as being a spy as had come here to steal the crown; and it seemed to me, as you found him, that it’d be about fair if you and me went snacks with the reward. Look here, my lad, I’ll get my old weskit covered with a bit of heifer-skin, and as for the boots, why, they’ll do for another winter yet if I lay ’em up pretty thick with grease. Don’t you get waxy with me, Master Waller. I didn’t mean no harm. I wouldn’t hurt that poor chap, especially as you like him.”
“No, Bunny,” cried the boy, catching his arm again. “I’m sure you wouldn’t; and you won’t tell upon me?”
“You say I ar’n’t to, Master Waller, and, of course, I won’t.”
“Then I do say you are not to. I wouldn’t have that poor fellow found and taken for the world.”
“All right, Master Waller.”
“And as for the money you will miss, Bunny, I have got some saved up, and you shall have the waistcoat and the boots before a month’s passed.”