I would n't let my own mother do for you, would I, Nero?" he added, softly rubbing the nose of his horse as he spoke.
Flinging the rein to the Dutchman, Robert ran swiftly down the bank until he arrived at a secluded spot on the shore, and quickly removing his clothing, plunged into the river. For a time he was almost unmindful of his weariness and previous discomfort, as he swam about in the water; but the oncoming night and his uneasiness concerning: Dirck's visitor soon caused him to return to the shore, where he hastily donned his clothing and prepared to return to the house. Before he had climbed the bank, however, he perceived Dirck approaching, and instantly he halted, waiting for his friend to come near.
"How's Nero? Have you rubbed him down?" demanded Robert.
"Yaas. I had some help."
"Who helped you?"
"The man."
"Your visitor?" inquired Robert hastily.
Dirck nodded his head in reply, but did not speak.
"How long has he been here?"
"About an hour."
"What does he have to say for himself?"
