“I think, Jacob,” said his master, “you’d better say no more about it. It’s plain you’ve no legal proof against Juniper; you may be mistaken, after all. Let us take the charitable side, and forget what’s past. There, shake hands; and as we’re to be all fellow-voyagers, let us all be friends.”
But Jacob drew back.
“No, mayster; I’ll not grip the hand of any man, if my heart cannot go with it. Time’ll show. By your leave, I’ll go and get the dog-cart ready; for I suppose you’ll be going back to Adelaide directly?”
His master nodding assent, Jacob went to fetch the vehicle, and on his return found his master in earnest conversation with Juniper.
“Good-bye, then, Juniper, till we meet next Thursday on board the Sabrina,” he cried.
“Good-bye, sir; and many thanks for your kindness.”
Jacob, of course, uttered no word of farewell; but just looking round for an instant, he saw Juniper’s eyes fixed on him with such a look of deadly, savage hatred, as assured him—though he needed no such assurance—that his intended murderer was really there.
“I think, Jacob, you’re rather hard on Juniper,” said his master, as they drove along. “He has done wrong; but I am persuaded he has still a strong attachment to me, and I really cannot think he can have been the person who tried to murder you. Why should you think it, Jacob? He’s never done you any harm before.”
“Mr Frank, you must excuse me; but I’m sure I’m not mistaken. He’s always hated me ever since the day I spoke out my mind to you at the cottage. Take my word for it, Mr Frank, he’s no love for you; he only wants to make a tool of you, just to serve his own purposes.”
“Nay, nay, Jacob, my good fellow; not so fast. He cannot be so utterly selfish, or he never would have offered me the extra ten-pound note and the nuggets, over and above the fifty pounds, if he hadn’t really a love for me, and a true sorrow for what he has done wrong.”