Through Russian Snows by G. A. Henty

to
France to-night. You may think I shall be asking you to take another
oath, like that, not to say anything against me, but I ain't going to. I
shot the man, and I don't pretend to be sorry for it. He was a hard, bad
chap, and he got what he deserved. I owed him a long score, not only for
myself, but for others, and if I had not shot him, someone else would
have done so sooner or later. I shall do what I can to prevent you
coming back here, though I don't think you will say anything against me
when you do come back. In the first place, like enough I shall take to
the sea again, and may be settled in France before you return. In the
next place, I may be dead; and, most of all, you have got no evidence
against me. If I were here, and you told the story, of course I should
say that it was a lie, and that you had shot the man yourself, and I
had got you out of the way by sending you across to France in a lugger,
so I think you will see that it is best to keep a quiet tongue in your
head; anyhow I am ready to take my chance of it."
    "They will be horribly alarmed when I don't get home to-night," Julian
said.
    "Well, they must be alarmed," the poacher said carelessly. "You have
interfered in this business, which was none of yours, and you have got
to take the consequences; you may think yourself a lucky fellow that you
are not by this time drifting about on the tideway."
    "I feel that," Julian said; "and though I did not understand a word of
what you said, I am sure that it was owing to you that I am not there. I
could not have promised that I would never say a word to anyone about
you, because one can never tell how one may be placed; but, after what
you have done, I think that I can safely promise that I will never go
out of my way to denounce you."
    "I don't want any promise about it," the poacher replied. "I have made
up my mind to leave Weymouth, for, after having been in jail two years,
I shall always have the constables as well as the revenue men keeping
their eye on me, so I had intended all along to take to the lugger
again, and live on board her as I did before, and I only stayed here
until I could settle accounts with Faulkner. I have no doubt that they
will suspect me of this business. There are plenty of men who know that
I had sworn to be even with him, and my disappearance is sure to be put
down to that. Now, in the next place, will you promise not to try to
escape, because if you do, I will get them to take these ropes off you?
I dare say you have been thinking that if you could get free you would
make a run for the mouth of the cave and dive in, for it is about high
water now."
    Julian had, in fact, been thinking so, but as he saw that unless he gave
his promise he would have to remain in the cords that were cutting into
his wrists, he at once took the required oath. Joe told the Frenchmen,
and they then unfastened Julian's cords.
    "We may as well carry up the bales at once," their leader said, "before
it gets dark. It is no use giving anyone at sea a chance of seeing a
light. Tell him to take one and come up with us. I am not going to leave
him here by himself, promise or no promise."
    The poacher translated the order to Julian. Some bales were taken out
from beneath a tarpaulin at the end of the cave, and, each shouldering
one, they proceeded up the passage until they reached the foot of the
ladder. Here they laid the bales down, and then returned to the cave.
    "Is that all?" Julian asked.
    "Yes, those bales are worth a lot of money. There is fifteen hundred
pounds worth of lace in one of them. The others are silks and satins,
and worth another five hundred. To-night, when we hear the signal, I and
three of the Frenchmen will go up. We shall find two men there, and
shall carry the bales to a place a mile and a half away, where they will
be hidden until it is convenient to send them up to London, or wherever
they are going to dispose of them—that is their business; ours is
finished when they hand us over the