"Poor little chap!" said Jack. "After going through so much for them he'll be heart-broken if he loses them now. What can we do for him, Barney?"
"Faith, I can see nothing for it, sorr, but to lead a storming party. And I would go first, wid the greatest pleasure in life."
"That's out of the question, especially as Elbel's away. All's fair in war, they say, Barney; but I shouldn't like to attack the village in Elbel's absence. In any case I don't want to fight if there's any other way. Samba, run away with Pat; don't go beyond the gate; I want to see if I can think of any way of helping your parents."
Both the white men were touched by the boy's wistful look as he left the hut. Jack stuck his legs out straight in front of him, plunged his hands into his pockets, and bent his head upon his breast as he pondered and puzzled. Barney sat for a time leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, smoking an old clay pipe. But he soon tired of inaction, and rising, proceeded to open a tin of oatmeal biscuits in anticipation of lunch. He had just wrenched the lid off when Jack sprang up with a sudden laugh and slapped him on the shoulder.
"I have it, Barney!" he cried. "They said something would happen; well, they were right; something shall happen, old man. And it's your doing!"
"Mine, sorr! Niver a thing have I done this blessed day but smoke me pipe, and just this very minute tear a hole in my hand wid this confounded tin."
"That's it, Barney! It was the tin gave me the idea. You know how giants are made for the Christmas pantomimes?"
"Divil a bit, sorr."
"Well, don't look so surprised. Empty that tin of biscuits while I tell you, and when that's empty, open another and do the same."
"Bedad, sorr, but all the biscuits will spoil."