“I shan’t stay here to be fooled any longer,” said the other.
“Will you lend me the gun, then?”
“Lend you my gun?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you particularly well—never mind.”
So saying, he of the gun marched off in very great dudgeon, leaving the bill-sticker gazing after him.
“Well,” he muttered, “there’s an air and a grace, I never knew he was so hasty before. I—I think I’ll have a hunt for the fellow myself, and—yet he might master me, and I think I won’t. It’s all very well to take a prisoner, but when the prisoner takes you, it ain’t near so pleasant.”
Having come to this sage conclusion, the bill-sticker rapidly walked away, glancing every now and then around him in terror, lest Gray should make a sudden dart at him from behind some tree or hedge.
“Here! Here,” moaned Jacob Gray, as he smeared the blood from his face with his hand, “here I must remain in hunger and pain till night, and then my only hope now is to crawl to Learmont’s!”