“No, he understands you are friends,” said Abel. “Lie down, Scruff.”
The dog crouched, and watched the visitor as he sat down on a box, took out his pipe, and lit it.
“Thought I’d give you a look in as I didn’t feel worky. How’s things going?”
“We were coming to warn you,” said Dallas; and he related what had passed.
“Them?” said Norton, springing up and putting out his pipe; “I was in hopes they were hanged. Well, I’ll be off; this means a serious matter for them. We shall have to get up a hunt and stop this. Will you join?”
“Of course,” said the young men in a breath.
“Then good-bye; only mind this—if you hear firing come and help.”
“Yes; and you’ll do the same?”
“Trust me,” said the man shortly, and he shook hands and hurried away.
The next four days passed anxiously enough, and they heard no more of Norton and his friends. The first two nights watch was kept, the occupants of the hut taking turn and turn of three hours. But this duty, somewhat in accordance with the proverb of familiarity breeding contempt, was deputed to Scruff, who, however, was more contemptuous than either of his masters; for he kept the watch carefully curled-up with his tail across his eyes, in the spot where the warmest glow from the fire struck.