"Better where you are," said Hackler, with what sounded very much like a sigh.
Brack went into his mother's room. She was awake.
"What is it, lad?" she asked.
"Hush, mother! I'm goin' out with Hackler in my boat. He's the man from Dartmoor, on the lookout for the escaped prisoner. I'm rowin' him out to the tramp; she's put back again."
She smiled; she knew all about it.
"Tell him not to stir out of that room until I comes home. He'll sleep a good while. He must not come out, not even in here—you understand, mother?"
"Yes, but who is he?"
"He's the man Hackler's after; the man who strangled the bloodhound. He knows our Bill. He's a gentleman; he'll do what he can for him when he's proved his innocence. He is——"
"Come on, Brack; don't be all day," called Hackler.
"I'll see to him, lad, never fear; he's safe with me," said his mother.