"but bring ’em up ’ere, an’ I’ll kill ’em all over again."
"Good morning, Mr. Pyecroft," I called cheerfully. "Can I give you a lift anywhere?"
The attack broke up round my fore-wheels.
"Well, we do ’ave the knack o’ meeting in puris naturalibus, as I’ve so often said." Mr. Pyecroft wrung my hand. "Yes, I’m on leaf. So’s Hinch. We’re visiting friends among these kopjes."
A monotonous bellowing up the road persisted, where the carrier was still calling for corpses.
"That’s Agg. He’s Hinch’s cousin. You aren’t fortunit in your family connections, Hinch. ’E’s usin’ language in derogation of good manners. Go and abolish ’im."
Henry Salt Hinchcliffe stalked back to the cart and spoke to his cousin. I recall much that the wind bore to me of his words and the carrier’s. It seemed as if the friendship of years were dissolving amid throes.
"’Ave it your own silly way, then," roared the carrier, "an’ get into Linghurst on your own silly feet. I’ve done with you two runagates." He lashed his horse and passed out of sight still rumbling.
"The fleet’s sailed," said Pyecroft, "leavin’ us on the beach as before. Had you any particular port in your mind?"
"Well, I was going to meet a friend at Instead Wick, but I don’t mind——"
"Oh! that’ll do as well as anything! We’re on leaf, you see."
