turned, put his back against the steep wall which banked up the houses on one side of the roadway, folded his arms, and waited for Tregenna to come up to him.
The lieutenant, expecting that Tom had a pistol ready for him, put his hand to one of his own. The smuggler, however, shook his head, and held up his hands.
"Where are the rest?" cried Tregenna, more by instinct than because he expected a useful answer.
Tom, whose handsome, open face was flushed with his exertions, smiled mockingly at him.
"Wheer? Wheer?" asked he, with a shake of the head. "Nay, master, look round, and see if 'twill be easy for you to light upon 'em now!"
Tregenna did look round. He saw the close-packed cottages, some prim and neat, with a sort of look about them as if no creature within had ever heard of so terrible a thing as a smuggler: some dirty and neglected, and capable of anything: but all shut up, and without a human face at any window. One mean-looking little alehouse at the corner did certainly bear a sort of rakish, contraband look.
