“Bring him along,” said the son, impatiently. “It's a waste of time talking to him.”
Mr. Carter took a step back and parleyed. “I'll come along with you of my own free will,” he said, hastily, “just to show you that you are wrong; but I won't be forced.”
He turned and walked back with them towards the town, pausing occasionally to admire the view. Once he paused so long that an ominous growl arose from the elder of his captors.
“I was just thinking,” said Mr. Carter, eying him in consternation; “suppose that she makes the same mistake that you have made? Oh, Lord!”
“Keeps it up pretty well, don't he, Jim?” said the father.
The other grunted and, drawing nearer to Mr. Carter as they entered the town, stepped along in silence. Questions which Mr. Carter asked with the laudable desire of showing his ignorance concerning the neighborhood elicited no reply. His discomfiture was increased by the behavior of an elderly boatman, who, after looking at him hard, took his pipe from his mouth and bade him “Good-evening.” Father and son exchanged significant glances.
They turned at last into a small street, and the elder man, opening the door of a neat cottage, laid his hand on the prisoner's shoulder and motioned him in. Mr. Carter obeyed, and, entering a spotless living-room, removed his hat and with affected composure seated himself in an easy-chair.
“I'll go up and tell Nan,” said Jim. “Don't let him run away.”