“Nothing,” said Abel shortly, “because if I said Yes! you wouldn’t do it.”
Tregelly stood and shook with the ebullition of chuckles which came bubbling out.
“Oh, dear me,” he said at last, as he wiped his eyes. “I can’t help being such a fool. It’s my nature to, my sons. No, I couldn’t set the dog at the beast, and I couldn’t put him out to freeze; but if it had come to a fight, and I’d been up, I could have shot him or knocked him on the head, and felt all the better for it.”
“Yes, I know,” said Dallas, who stood gazing down at the trembling wretch upon the couch.
“I s’pose I ought to be very glad him and his lot found my place empty; and I ought to sit down and nurse him and try to make him well again, and stop till his mates came and made an end of me—same as they’ve made an end of everything in the place. I say, just look here—quiet, Scruff, or I’ll come and talk to you with one of my boots!—I’m blessed if they haven’t finished up everything I left here—ham, bacon, meal, tea, sugar—every blessed thing,” continued Tregelly, as he opened canister and tin, peered into the meal-tub, and finished by staring down at the miserable wretch on the bed, and thoughtfully scratching his head.
“It’s horrible, Bob,” said Dallas. “The brutes! But I don’t know what we’re to do.”
Tregelly looked down again at the man, whose lips were moving fast; but his words were inaudible, save now and then, when he uttered a strange yelping cry, and they heard the word, “Dog!”
“Seems your turn now, Master Abel,” said Tregelly. “You’ve got your knife into him most. But he’s got his deserts.”