“Well, may-hap you do,” rejoined the scout coolly, “but not, so far as I know, in connection wi’ your present company. Now, there’s Buck Tom—”
“Ay, what of him?” asked Shank, anxiously.
“Well, in the nat’ral course o’ timings, death is comin’ to him too, an’ that’ll save him from bein’ strung up—for they’re apt to do that sort o’ thing hereaway in a loose free-an-easy style that’s awkward sometime. I was within an inch of it myself once, all through a mistake—I’ll tell ’ee about that when I’ve got more time, maybe. Well, now, I’m keen to save you an’ Buck Tom if I can, and what I want you to understand is, that if you expect me to help you at a time when you stand considerable in need o’ help, you’ll have to do what I tell ’ee.”
“And what would you have me do?” asked Shank, with a troubled look.
“Remain here till I come for ’ee, and when you meet me in company say nothin’ about havin’ met me before.”
“Can I trust you, Hunky Ben?” said Shank, looking at him earnestly.
“If you can’t trust me, what d’ye propose to do?” asked the scout with a grin.
“You’re right, Ben. I must trust you, and, to say truth, from the little I know of you, I believe I’ve nothing to fear. But my anxiety is for Ralph—Buck Tom, I mean. You’re sure, I suppose, that Mr Brooke will do his best to shield him?”
“Ay, sartin sure, an’, by the way, don’t mention your Christian name just now—whatever it is—nor for some time yet. Good-day, an’ keep quiet till I come. We’ve wasted overmuch time a’ready.”
So saying, the scout left the coppice, and, flinging open his coat, re-entered the cave a very different-looking man from what he was when he left it.