The two strangers, sullen, ill-favored men, one of whom never looked you full in the face, but was always glancing anywhere rather than straight before him, did not appear to wish for a parley with the schoolmaster, the clear daylight of whose countenance was in perfect keeping with the uprightness of his character, and the unbending texture of his principles.
"What is your will, friends?"
"We only want Miles Lawson. Is he in or off?"
"I cannot say. May I ask your business with him?"
"No. 'Twas only for a talk with him. He wasn't in the Gap, where he should have met us, for we are naught but friends: as he wasn't there, we came on. That's all."
The speaker looked a miner, and his companion might have been a broom-maker; but they were ungainly, unhappy-looking men; the one, bold and defiant, the other sinister and cunning.
"Well!" said the miner, after a pause. "If you can't tell us anything, we are off again. Come along, Jack."
"Stop!" cried Mark, hastily. "Is there no message for Miles Lawson? Nothing about the business which brings you here?"
"No," said the man, rudely; "catch us telling you."
And laughing loudly, they walked off at a quick pace.