“She’s dyin’, however, may be dead,” said the man, with a sneer so full of triumph, that it struck a chill to the heart of the poor boy.
Just at that moment, Jacky Sudberry turned slowly round a sharp angle of the road, and stood there transfixed, with his eyes like two saucers, and his mouth as round as an o.
The sight of this intruder distracted Billy’s attention for a moment. Growler at once bounded over the low wall and dived into the underwood. Billy hesitated to follow him, for the last piece of information weighed heavily on his mind. That moment’s hesitation was sufficient for the gypsy to make good his retreat. Although Billy leaped the wall the next moment, and darted hither and thither through the copse, he failed to catch sight of him again, and finally returned to the road, where he found Jacky seated on a stone, pondering in a state of bewilderment on what he had seen.
“Well, my boy, how goes it?” cried the sailor heartily, as he came forward, wiping his heated brow with a blue spotted cotton handkerchief.
“All right!” was Jacky’s prompt reply. “I say, was you fightin’ with that man?”
“Ay, that was I, and I’ve not done with him yet.”
Jacky breathed hard and looked upon the young sailor-lad with a deep reverential awe, feeling that he was in the presence of a real Jack the Giant-killer.
“He runn’d away!” said Jacky in amazement. “Did you hit him hard?”
“Not with my fists; they ain’t big enough for that yet. We’ve only had a sparring-match with words and legs.”
Jacky glanced at Billy’s legs as if he regarded them in the light of dire engines of destruction. Indeed, his active mind jumped at once to the conclusion that the sailor’s must be a kicking mode of warfare; but he was too much amazed to make any rejoinder.