“Ay, but I did not ask what you’d do; I asked what you’d think?”
“Why, I would think something had happened to prevent you lettin’ me know, but I’d never think ill of you,” replied Tommy.
“I believe you, boy,” said Bax, earnestly. “But come, enough o’ this idle talk. I want you to go up to the cottage with a message to Guy. Tell him not to speak to any one to-night or to-morrow about what I said to him when we were walking on the sandhills; and be off, lad, as fast as you can, lest he should let it out before you get there.”
“Anything to do with smugglers?” inquired the boy, with a knowing look, as they stood outside the door.
“Why, n–no, not exactly.”
“Well, good-night, Bax; good-night, old Jeph.”
Tommy departed, and the two men stood alone.
“God bless the lad. You’ll be kind to him, Jeph, when I’m away?”
“Trust me, Bax,” said the old man, grasping his friend’s hand.
Without another word, Bax turned on his heel, and his tall, stalwart figure was quickly lost to view in the dark shadows of the night.