All the world was against him, and he could do
nothing to revenge himself, but to hate everybody!
'Why, lad! why, Stephen! what ails thee?' said Black Thompson's voice,
close behind him. 'Eh! who's gone and shot Snip? That rascal Jones, I'll
go bail! Is he quite dead, Stephen? Stand up, lad, and let's give a look
at him.'
The boy rose, and faced Black Thompson and his comrade with eyes that
were bloodshot, though he had not shed a tear, and with lips almost
bitten through by his angry teeth. Both the men handled the dog gently
and carefully, but, after a moment's inspection, Thompson laid it down
again on the turf.
'It's a shame!' he cried, with an oath that sounded pleasantly in
Stephen's ears; 'it was one of the best little dogs about. I'd take my
vengeance on him for this. In thy place, I couldn't sleep till I'd done
something.'
'Ay!' said Stephen, with flashing eyes; 'I know where he's keeping a
covey of birds up against game day--nineteen of them. I've seen them
every day, and I could go to the place in the dark.'
'That's a brave lad!' said Black Thompson; 'he's got his father's pluck
after all, as I've always told thee, Davies, and we'll see him righted.
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