Trevanion shrugged.
"Hadn't you better reserve your whip for stimulating your tidesmen, Mr. Polwhele? They need a little spiriting, if what I hear is true."
And with that as a parting shot Trevanion rode away.
"What was the origin of this?" asked Mr. Polwhele. "I'm sorry to see it, Master Trevanion."
"'Twas like this, sir," said Sam, rubbing his head and legs alternately. "I comed upon they chaps, and Jake Tonkin says to me, 'Catched any fish lately, young Sam?' Says I, ''Tis easier to cut lines, to be sure,' says I, and then they set on me, and they'd ha' melled and mashed me if Maister Dick hadn't come up."
"Have they been cutting your lines, then?"
Dick saw no help for it but to acquaint the riding-officer with the petty persecution he had lately suffered, and the cause of it, which hitherto Mr. Polwhele had not known.
"'Tis rascally, 'pon my soul it is," said the officer, "and I'm sorry Penwarden has brought it on ye. Not but 'twas your own doing, Master Dick; you'd better have kept out of it, though I own 'twas a good deed to old Joe. I'm on my way to see Sir Bevil, and I'll tell him as a magistrate, and he'll engage to commit any ruffian that molests ye."
"Not on my account, if you please, Mr. Polwhele," said Dick earnestly. "There's bad blood between the Towers and the village as it is, and 'twill be ten times worse if Sir Bevil comes into it."
"Maybe you're in the right. Well, I'll see you safe home, and if I may advise ye, keep out of the way o' the village folk. You're not friends with Mr. Trevanion seemingly. Is he backing the smugglers, d'ye know?"