"Run, Andy! Tell him there's a heavy thunderstorm coming and he'd better stay
in our humpy till it's over. Run! Don't stand staring like a blanky fool.
He'll be gone!"

Andy started. But just then, as luck would have it, one of the fencers
started after the inspector, hailing him as "Hi, mister!"
He wanted to be set right about the survey or something
-- or to pretend to want to be set right -- from motives of policy
which I haven't time to explain here.

That fencer explained afterwards to Dave's party that he "seen what you coves
was up to," and that's why he called the inspector back.
But he told them that after they had told their yarn -- which was a mistake.

"Come back, Andy!" cried Jack Bentley.

Dave Regan slipped round the tree, down on his hands and knees,
and made quick time through the grass which, luckily, grew pretty tall
on the thirty or forty yards of slope between the tree and the horse.
Close to the horse, a thought struck Dave that pulled him up,
and sent a shiver along his spine and a hungry feeling under it.
The horse would break away and bolt! But the case was desperate.
Dave ventured an interrogatory "Cope, cope, cope?" The horse
turned its head wearily and regarded him with a mild eye,
as if he'd expected him to come, and come on all fours,
and wondered what had kept him so long; then he went on thinking.
Dave reached the foot of the post; the horse obligingly leaning over
on the other leg. Dave reared head and shoulders cautiously behind the post,
like a snake; his hand went up twice, swiftly -- the first time