"Can't tell fer sartin," was the reply. "But they'll savvey about the lad at Old Meg's over yon, an' that'll be enough fer them."
"Will they try to do anything now, do you think?"
"Do? They'll never stop doin' as long as life's in their nasty bodies. Ye don't know them varmints. They're after money, an' they're bound to git it."
"And so you think the child's in danger yet?"
"Think it? I don't think anything about it. I know it."
"And what is to be done?"
"Git that youngster out of this as soon as he's able to be moved."
"But will they let us?"
"Not if they kin help it. But thar are always ways, don't ye fergit that. Thar are ways. But come, lad, ye're dead beat an' need some rest. So curl up in yon bunk while I stroll around outside a bit."