The question is instantly answered by another, though not satisfactorily.
“Plenty of smooth-bores about, though nobody as I knows of hunts with them.”
A third speaks more to the point, saying:—
“Yes; there’s one does.”
“Name him!” is the demand of many voices.
“Dick Darke!”
The statement is confirmed by several others, in succession repeating it.
After this succeeds silence—a pause in the proceedings—a lull ominous, not of further speech but, action.
Daring its continuance, Woodley replaces the piece of lead in the wood, just as it was before; then laying the two cleft pieces together, and tying them with a string, he returns the chunk to his pocket.
This done, he makes a sign to the chiefs of the conclave to follow him as if for further communication.