“Tim,” whispered Duke; but the boy caught the faint sound and edged himself nearer.

“Tim,” said Duke again, “is he not going to take us home to-night?”

“I’se a-feared not,” replied Tim in the same tone.

A low deep sigh escaped poor Duke.  Pamela, so worn out by the pain as well as fatigue she had suffered that she could no longer keep up, was already fast asleep again.

“When it’s quite, quite dark,” continued Duke, “and when Mick and them all are asleep, don’t you think us might run away, Tim?”

Tim shook his head.

“Missy can’t walk; and she’s dead tired out, let alone her poor foot,” he said.  “You must wait a bit till she can walk anyway.  Try to go to sleep, and to-morrow we’ll see.”

Duke began to cry quietly.

“I’m too midderable to sleep,” he said.  “And it’s all my fault.  Just look at sister, Tim.  She’s not even undressed, and she’ll die—­sleeping all night without any bed out in the cold.  Oh, and it’s all my fault!”

“Hush, hush, master!” said Tim, terrified lest the others should overhear them.

“What does he want to do with us?  Why won’t he take us home?” asked Duke.

Tim hesitated a moment.

“I thought at first it was just to get money for bringing of ye back,” he said.  “I’ve known him do that.”

“But us would tell,” said Duke indignantly.  “Us would tell that he wouldn’t let us go home.”

“Ah, he’d manage so as ’twouldn’t matter what you said,” replied Tim.  “He’d get some pal of his to find you like, and then he’d get the money back from him.”

“What’s a pal?” asked Duke bewildered.

“Another like hisself; a friend o’ his’n,” said Tim.  “But that’s not what he’s after.  I found out what it is.  There’s a show at some big place we’re going to; and they want pretty little ones like you and little missy, to dress them up and teach them to dance, and to play all sort o’ tricks—­a-riding on ponies and suchlike, I daresay.  I’se seen them.  And Mick’ll get a good deal that way.  I’d bet anything, and so’d Diana, that’s what he’s after.”

“But us’d tell,” repeated Duke, “us’d tell that he’d stoled us away, and they’d have to let us go home.”

Again Tim shook his head.

“Those as ’ud pay Mick for ye wouldn’t give much heed to aught you’d say,” he answered.  “And it’ll maybe be a long way off from here—­over the sea maybe.”

“Then,” said Duke, “then us must run away, Tim.  And if you won’t help us, us’ll run away alone, as soon as ever sister’s foot’s better.  Us must, Tim.”

He had raised his voice in his excitement, so that Tim glanced anxiously in the direction of the fire.  But Mick and his wife seemed to have fallen asleep themselves, or perhaps the wind rustling overhead among the branches prevented the child’s little voice reaching them; they gave no signs of hearing.  All the same it was best to be cautious.