"What is that? A lad or a dog?" asked Mr. Knibb, too much excited to observe narrowly. "Catch it, my lads, whatever it is. Depend upon it, it is contraband."
They gave chase for a few minutes; but the little object darted away like a mountain sheep, and disappeared.
"Never heed," said the schoolmaster; "I don't much like catching a poor child; even if we could, and torturing him with fright into telling all he knows, and perhaps more than he knows."
Besides his compassionate feeling, Mark was very anxious, for his friend's sake, to get through the affair as quickly and easily as possible, consistently with his strong sense of the just and the right. And although he would have done everything which he believed to be required of him as a good subject, yet he was not sorry to see the little scout re-appear at an amazing distance down the steep, and joining a larger group of moving objects, wholly vanish together with them behind a broad spur of the mountain. Pursuit was hopeless, as the unknown figures had the advantage of ground and of great distance.
"There go your potters, I should say, Mr. Knibb," said Mark.
"Likely enough," was the reply, in a tone of mortification. "Much if they have not been at the still in the night and carried off all the stock."
"We had best hurry on, and see about it," said Old Geordie eagerly.
They did hasten on, gained the mouth of the adit, and looked anxiously round to see if anything had been disturbed. No; everything wore the same look as on the previous day.
"Here we are, just in time," remarked Mr. Knibb, rubbing his hands; "my potter friends were just then coming to strip the place, and old George Knibb has for once got the start."
He was perfectly charmed with the completeness of the little establishment, and went about sniffing and tasting with marvellous zest, making entries in his note-book of everything which the cave contained.