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"By God! Will you be pert with me?"
Remembering all that was at stake, growing suddenly conscious that
from the huts surrounding the enclosure anxious ears were listening,
he instantly practised an unusual submission.
"Not pert, sir. I... I am sorry I should have been sought...."
"Aye, and you'll be sorrier yet. There's the Governor with an
attack of gout, screaming like a wounded horse, and you nowhere to
be found. Be off, man - away with you at speed to Government House!
You're awaited, I tell you. Best lend him a horse, Kent, or the
lout'll be all night getting there."
They bustled him away, choking almost from a reluctance that he dared
not show. The thing was unfortunate; but after all not beyond remedy.
The escape was set for midnight, and he should easily be back by then.
He mounted the horse that Kent procured him, intending to make all
haste.
"How shall I reenter the stockade, sir?" he enquired at parting.
"You'll not reenter it," said Bishop. "When they've done with you
at Government House, they may find a kennel for you there until
morning.


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