The man nodded.
“Ain’t been on the Island for sixty-seven years for nothing,” he said, winking one bright blue eye.
French laughed.
“Maybe,” he said, “but you never can tell when the roads will get dangerous again. What with footpads whom I fear not and excise folk whom I do—you never know,” and he shrugged his shoulders, and soon added, a smile breaking over his handsome face, “but, Lord, it’s all in the trade, so what’s the use of talking?”
He turned away with Hal, and John touching his cap went off to the barn—a long low building on the left of the Ship.
“I’m taking that dog Blueneck and his mate Coot along wi’ me,” French remarked, as he and Hal neared the kitchen door. “You ain’t seen them up here yet, I suppose?”
Hal shook his head as he lifted the latch.
“No,” he said, “but they’ll come, don’t you fear, the sniffling Spanish rats.”
French laughed and was about to reply, but as his eyes fell upon Mistress Sue who had stepped to the door to meet them, the words died on his lips, and he grinned sheepishly.
In the kitchen the dips had been lighted, the fire had got up, and all round the hearth was bright and cheerful.