“I intend to go along with you.”
“But I start to-night. If I can scrape together enough food to last a week or two. But I’ll take you along. You shall come. I’ll show you how I live. Now, then, what d’you say?” There was a twinkle in Tresco’s eye, and the corners of his mouth twitched with merriment.
“Think I don’t know when I’ve got a soft thing on?” Jake took off his apron, and hung it on a nail. “Shan’t want that, for a month or two anyway.” Then he faced the “boss” with, “Equal whacks, you old bandicoot. I’ll find the tucker, and we’ll share the gold.”
Tresco’s smile broke into a hearty laugh. He put his hands to his sides, threw back his head, and fairly chortled.
“I don’t see any joke.” Jake looked at his master from beneath his extravagant eyebrows.
“You’ll ... you’ll get the tucker ... see?”
“Why, yes—how’s a man to live?”
“An’ you’ll help swag it?”
“’Course.”
“You’ll implicitly obey your lawful lord and master, out on the wallaby?”