“Now, friends,” said Oliver, after completing the dressing of the wound, “before I met with you I had missed my way while travelling to St. Just. Will one of you direct me to the right road, and I shall bid you good-night, as I think you have no further need of my services.”
The men looked at their leader, whom they evidently expected to be their spokesman.
“Well, sur, you have rendered we some help this hevenin’, both in the way o’ pickin’ out the ball an’ helpin’ to break skulls as well as preventin’ worse, so we can do no less than show ’ee the road; but hark ’ee, sur,” here the man became very impressive, “ef you do chance to come across any of us in your travels, you had better not knaw us, ’xcept in an or’nary way, d’ye understand? an’ us will do the same by thee.”
“Of course I will act as you wish,” said Oliver with a smile, “although I do not see why we should be ashamed of this affair, seeing that we were the party attacked. There is only one person to whom I would wish to explain the reason of my not appearing sooner, because he will probably know of the arrival in Penzance this morning of the conveyance that brought me to Cornwall.”
“And who may that be?” demanded Jim Cuttance.
“My uncle, Thomas Donnithorne of St. Just,” said Oliver.
“Whew!” whistled the fisherman in surprise, while all the others burst into a hearty fit of laughter.
“Why do you laugh?” asked Oliver.
“Oh, never mind, sur, it’s all right,” said the man with a chuckle. “Iss, you may tell Thomas Donnithorne; there won’t be no harm in tellin’ he—oh, dear no!”
Again the men laughed loud and long, and Oliver felt his powers of forbearance giving way, when Cuttance said to him: “An’ you may tell all his friends too, for they’re the right sort. Come now, Maggot here will show ’ee the way up to St. Just.”