Sam and Robin exchanged looks, and the former shook his head. “You’ll not get much information out of her, I fear. Ask her about the pirates,” he whispered.
“Letta,” said Robin, settling the child more comfortably on his knee—an attention which she received with a sigh of deep contentment,—“are the people here kind to you?”
“Yes, very kind. Old Meerta is as kind to me almost as mamma used to be, but I don’t love her so much—not nearly so much,—and blind Bungo is a dear old man.”
“That’s nice. And the others—are they kind to you?”
“What others? Oh, I suppose you mean the men who come and stay for a time, and then go off again. O no! They are not kind. They are bad men—very naughty; they often fight, and I think call each other bad names, but I don’t understand their language very well. They never hurt me, but they are very rough, and I don’t like them at all. They all went away this morning. I was so glad, for they won’t be back again for a good long while, and Meerta and Bungo won’t get any more hard knocks and whippings till they come back.”
“Ha! they won’t come back in a hurry—not these ones at least,” said Sam in a voice that frightened Letta, inducing her to cling closer to Robin.
“Don’t be afraid, little one,” said the latter, “he’s only angry with the bad men that went away this morning. Are there any of them still remaining here?”
“What, in the caves?”
“Ay, in the caves—or anywhere?”
“No they’re all away. Nobody left but me and Meerta and blind Bungo.”