“And so has Nokes done with him.”

“Nokes is at work on Medlicot’s Mill.  That sugar business wouldn’t suit me.”

“An axe in your hand is what you’re fit for, Bos.”

“There’s a many things I can turn my hand to, Mr. Jerry.  You couldn’t give a fellow such a thing as a nobbler, Mr. Jerry, could you?  I’d offer money for it, only I know it would be taken amiss.  It’s that hot that a fellow’s very in’ards get parched up.”

Upon this Jerry slowly rose, and going to a cupboard, brought forth a modicum of spirits, which he called Battle-Axe, but which was supposed to be brandy.  This Boscobel swallowed at a gulp, and then washed it down with a little water.

“Come, Jerry,” said the old man, somewhat relenting in his wrath, “you might as well give us a drop, as it’s going about.”  The two brothers, who had now been thoroughly aroused from their sleep, and who had heard the enticing sound of the spirit bottle, joined the party, and so they drank all round.

“Heathcote’s in an awful state about them fires, ain’t he?” asked Jerry.

Boscobel, who had squatted down on the veranda, and was now lighting his pipe, bobbed his head.

“I wish he was clean burned out—­over head and ears,” said Jerry.

Boscobel bobbed his head again, sucking with great energy at the closely staffed pipe.

“If he treated me like he does you fellows,” continued Jerry, “he shouldn’t have a yard of fencing or a blade of grass left—­nor a ewe, nor a lamb, nor a hogget.  I do hate fellows who come here and want to be better than any one about ’em—­young chaps especially.  Sending up here to look for sheep-skins, cuss his impudence!  I sent that German fellow of his away with a flea in his ear.”

“Karl Bender?”

“It’s some such name as that.”

“He’s all in all with the young squire,” said Boscobel.  “And there’s a chap there called Jacko—­he’s another.  He gets ’em down there to Gangoil, and the ladies talks to ’em, and then they’d go through fire and water for him.  There’s Mickey—­he’s another, jist the same way.  I don’t like them ways, myself.”

“Too much of master and man about it, ain’t there, Bos?”

“Just that, Mr. Jerry.  That ain’t my idea of a free country.  I can work as well as another, but I ain’t going to be told that I’m a swindler because I’m making the most of my time.”

“He turned Nokes out by the scruff of his neck?” said Jerry.  Boscobel again bobbed his head.  “I didn’t think Nokes was the sort of fellow to stand that.”

“No more he ain’t,” said Boscobel.

“Heathcote’s a good plucked un all the same,” said Joe.

“It’s like you to speak up for such a fellow is that,” said Jerry.

“I say he’s a good plucked un.  I’m not standing up for him.  Nokes is half a stone heavier than him, and ought to have knocked him over.  That’s what you’d’ve done, wouldn’t you, Bos?  I know I would.”