"Indeed!"
"He's just cackling, sir," said Armstrong, impelled to utterance at last.
"I suspected as much. Well, you've made up your minds, I see. I understand. At your age I should have done the same. If you want any help, you've only to row across the river. My house is about half a mile through the woods and across a field. You must come up one day in any case, and have lunch or dinner with me, and discuss the situation. And, by the way, if you're fond of shooting, my coverts are positively overstocked. I can provide guns, and you're welcome to 'em."
"Many thanks indeed, sir," said Warrender.
"And you'll keep me informed? I'll take action the moment you have evidence. It's atrocious."
They escorted him to his boat, gave him a shove off, and watched him until he was out of sight. Returning to the tent, Pratt remarked--
"D. Crawshay seems to be a dashed good sort after all."
CHAPTER VIII
PIN-PRICKS
Late that afternoon, Warrender and Pratt started for a spin in the dinghy to the mouth of the river, intending to return on the tide. In accordance with their newly formed plan, Armstrong remained on guard in the camp.