wi' engineerin' fur a while if he fa's into my hands, an' he'll mak' no more rows about th' Davvies."
Impatient for the word of command, Nib stirred uneasily among the dead leaves, and the men heard him. Not a moment's space was given to the two listeners, or they would have saved themselves. There was a smothered exclamation from three voices at once, a burst of profanity, and Dan Lowrie had leaped the low hedge and caught Jud by the collar. The man was ghastly with rage. He shook the lad until even he himself was breathless.
"Yo' young devil!" he cried, hoarsely, "yo've been listenin', ha' yo'? Nay, theer's no use o' yo' try in' to brave it out. Yo've done for yorsen, by God!"
"Let me a-be," said Jud, but he was as pale as his captor. "I wur na doin' thee no harm. I on'y coom to look fur a bird's nest."
"Yo' listened," said Lowrie; "yo' heerd what we said."
"Let me a-be," was Jud's sullen reply.
At this moment a man's face rose above the whitethorn hedge.
"Who is it?" asked the fellow, in a low voice.
"A dom'd young rascal as has been eaves-droppin'. Yo' may as well coom out, lads. We've getten to settle wi' him, or we'n fun ourselves in th' worst box yet."
The man scrambled over the hedge without further comment, and his companion followed him; and seeing who they were, Jud felt that his position was even more dangerous than he fancied at first. The three plotters who grouped themselves about him were three of the most desperate fellows in the district—brutal, revengeful, vicious, combining all the characteristics of a bad class.
