“Lor’ a mussy me, my son! of course not. That’s why I took aim at him.”
“And saved our lives, Bob,” cried Dallas, clapping him hard on the shoulder.
“You think, then, that they’d have settled you if I hadn’t come and stopped their little game?”
“I feel sure of it,” cried Dallas.
“Hah! Yes, of course. Thank ye, my sons. I was feeling a bit uncomfortable, and beginning to think that I should be having the chap coming to bed to me every night and telling me how I’d shot him in a cowardly way; but I shan’t now. That’s done me a lot o’ good. Hah! I feel now as if I should like a pipe.”
The big, amiable, honest face lit up, and was lightened by a smile as he began searching his pockets for his tobacco-pouch and pipe.
“You see, I never killed a man before,” he said. “But you can hardly call a chap like that a man. More like a wild beast—sort o’ tiger.”
“It’s insulting a wild beast to say so, Bob,” cried Dallas warmly. “A wild beast kills for the sake of food. What’s the matter?”
“Pipe,” said Tregelly, rising slowly and reaching out for the lantern. “I told you I dropped it out yonder, and it’s somewhere by the sledge.”
“Leave that till daylight, and we’ll go with you.”