"'An' then, Joey?' I arst 'im, sir, when 'e sate mumchance," Craddock interpolated.
"Aw out wi' 'Fower angels rouand ma bed,' man, an' a' up wi' her in ma arms, an' a' kissed her fair an' oft, man, fair an' oft, just t' shame her, an' a' runned awaay. That's what a' did--aw runned awaay."
Half-way across the ravine, however, he paused to pick up his musket and look back. The Most Nailin' Bad Shot in creation was standing where he had left her, her face hidden in her hands. For an instant something tore at his heart, bidding him go back; then he set his teeth with an oath, and ran on. Five minutes afterwards he had slipped into a favourite cranny of rock beside Craddock and was puffing away at his pipe as if nothing had happened, absolutely silent, till, according to the latter's report, he "give a silly sort of laugh," and in the moonlight his eyes could be seen shining like stars as he turned and said softly--
"A' dunnot roightly kna', but a' ha' dune it, for sartin sure," replied Joe Banks, succinctly; and then he told the story.
"One of them _gazes_[1] as they call 'em," interrupted Craddock, when the big man told of his discovery in a sort of hushed voice. "They makes 'em male an' female--the latter most wicious. Bad lots out o' the bazaar, needin' a passport to the skies--or the devil."
[Footnote 1: _Ghâzie_--religious fanatic.]
Joey Banks' big fist came down like a sledgehammer on Craddock's knee.
"Hush, mon!" he said peremptorily. "She woan't none that sort. When a' kissed her--" he stopped short, and blushed furiously.
"Apollyon!" remarked Craddock, after a pause, with great severity. "It ain't wholesome to keep sech things comfortable in yer own buzzum. It's better to 'ave up an' done with it an' begin agin. When you kiss her--w'ot then?"
But Joe Banks' shining eyes were looking out into the soft darkness, soft and dark for all their shininess. "A' meant to 'a' keppen coont--but a' didn't somehow." His voice was quite dreamy, and Craddock rose in wrath.
"It's my belief, same as I was in the catechising, Joey Banks, that you bin an' fallen in love with a female _gaze_; but mark my word--there ain't no gratitoode to speak of in _gazes_, and she'll nick you yet, sure as my name's Nathaniel James. She'll nick you yet, I du assure you."