“Eh?”
“Yes; he and his companion had been firing at us for long enough,” said Abel.
“Ah,” cried Dallas, “and they did wound the dog. Here, old fellow, let’s look at you.”
In effect, the dog was just then licking at one particular part of his back, and examination proved that a bullet had ploughed off a little strip of skin.
“Only make him sore for a bit,” said Tregelly, after he had examined the dog in turn. “Poor old chap! I wish I’d a bit o’ pitch to touch it over for you. But I hadn’t thought of that, my sons.”
“Thought of what?”
“’Bout him trying to kill you. That didn’t make it quite so bad o’ me, did it?”
“Bad? It was stern justice, meted out to a murderer,” said Dallas firmly.
Tregelly looked at him for some moments thoughtfully. “Think so?” he said.
“Of course!” cried Abel, “and so do I. You didn’t want us to be killed, did you?”