For another moment Miles and the man stood looking into each other's faces, and once more the meaning smile passed between them; then the former uncocked his gun, and slung it over his shoulder.
"All right!" he answered.—"Come on, Sylvester; it's time we went back to supper."
There was no hedge to the copse. We stepped out from among the trees and underwood, and had not gone far when the man came running after us.
"Master Miles," he said, "if ever you want to go a-fishing, you can come down to Rockymouth and have the boat, sir; and if you'll give me a call, I'll go with you."
I hardly heard what he said, for glancing into the wood, something caught my eye which immediately riveted my attention. Projecting from behind a clump of bushes were a pair of heavy boots, and as I looked one of them moved, which showed conclusively that they were not empty. I waited till we had got some little distance beyond the copse, and then seized my companion's arm.
"Miles," I whispered, "there's another man hiding in the wood."
"Is there?" he answered carelessly. "Some friend of old Lewis, I suppose."
"Is that the old sailor you were talking about?" I asked. "What's he doing in your wood at this time in the evening? Lying down, too, concealed among the bushes. He must be poaching."
Miles only smiled, and shook his head.
"He's all right. The chap wouldn't harm a stick of our property; in fact, he'd just about murder any one who did."