“Well, you’ve just got to be lucky, and not spill the beans, that’s a foregone conclusion, Perk. Every foot of the way you must keep on the alert, and take no chances of discovery. But it’s getting so dark down in the valley we might as well shut up shop for the present.”
“Meanin’ it’s the end o’ a perfect day, eh, what?” asked Perk, as he started to “back water,” and push away from the screen of scrub bushes.
“Well, we’ve accomplished a few things worth remembering, so the time hasn’t been exactly wasted, Perk. But the main job still lies ahead of us, remember, brother. It’s going to be no small job either, to separate that slick rascal from the balance of the gang, and carry him off in our airship, without having to fight a regular battle with the mob.”
Perk scratched an ear, and then remarked softly:
“It never could be done if left to a lad built like me, I’m tellin’ yeou, my boy—couldn’t make the grade, which is a fack. Some galoots air built that way, yeou savvy? But, so long as I got a pal to lean on I aint worrin’ ’baout not bringin’ home the bacon, not me.”
“None of that baloney, Perk.”
They continued to back away until Jack decided they were far enough distant from that dreadful brink of the mighty cliff, to avoid any possibility of falling over if by chance they “walked in their sleep,” as Perk had been known to occasionally do, when something was weighing heavily on his mind.
“Let’s have those last few sandwiches that you held out at lunchtime,” Jack remarked, settling down to make himself as comfortable as the conditions allowed. “Good thing too, you were so thoughtful, since only for that we’d have gone to sleep with empty stomachs, which is rather hard on a fellow as fond of chow as some one I know.”
“I’m guilty, all right, Jack—eatin’s one o’ my shortcomin’s for a fack—allers did count the hours ’til the horn’d blow fur dinner-time—age haint changed little Gabe Perkiser a whit, an’ never will, I kinder spect. Take yeour pick—jest two each, an’ haow I wish I’d a told him to make ’em double thick—why, dang it they on’y be a couple o’ bites each, sech bites as I take.”
“Half a loaf’s a lot better than no bread—be philosophical, buddy, and as you munch your fodder keep thinking what you’re going to do punishing the grub when the time of plenty rolls along, which it surely will do in good time.”