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But my mother, catching me at it one day, sharply forbade me meddling with Krok's studies, and showed me the smallness of it, and I never touched one of his stones again. Both my mother and my grandfather could read and speak English, in addition to the Norman-French which was the root of our Island tongue, and that was something of a distinction in those days.
Later on, when he walked and worked, I noticed a weakness in his left arm, and his left leg dragged a little. At Krok's suggestion I had bargained for a small boat, and I took him also a further supply of provisions, and flour, and fishing-lines. And before I left them I thought it right to explain to Torode just what had happened.
"Then, as soon as you have had the other patched up and settled somewhere in safety, you'd better leave him in Krok's care and get back here. And the sooner the better. The people in Guernsey will want your story from your own lips in this matter." "How soon can we get into the cave?" "Nom-de-Dieu, yes!... Voyons donc! About two o'clock with a wet shirt.
Krok nodded, and he was probably thinking of my mother, for his fist clenched and he shook it bitterly at the unconscious man. Then he knelt again, and looked at his wound, and shook his head. "It was I shot him, not knowing who he was. And so I must save his life, or have his blood on my hands." From Krok's grim face I judged that the latter would have been most to his mind.
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