He looked so comic and puzzled that I smiled, and the smile became a laugh.
I was sorry directly after, because it seemed rude to one who had been very civil to me ever since we left Kingston Harbour.
“’Tain’t nothing to laugh at, young feller,” he said, frowning. “I’ve been talking to him yonder, and I can’t make nothing of him. He’s a re-lay-tive of yours, isn’t he?”
“Yes; my uncle,” I replied.
“Well, I’m afraid he don’t know what he’s cut out for himself, and I think I ought to tell you, so as you may talk to him and bring him to his senses.”
“There’s no need,” I said, quickly.
“Oh, yes, there is, my lad. He don’t know what he’s got before him, and it’s right that you should. He’s going shooting, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Nattralist?”
“Yes.”