Simpson considered. "There's sense i' that," said he.
"Nay, Master Simpson," urged the gored man on the ground, "say a word for me. I can pull off a gun as I lie, and at least I can hough their horses when they come near. It's sheer waste of an extra arm not to let me earn my own killing."
Simpson cut another mouthful of meat, and ate it relishingly.
"There's sense i' ye both," quoth he, "but I think Tom's right. There's fight i' Tom still, an' them dons may as well ha' t' benefit o' what Tom can do. Happen we can claw down our twenty-five if we've luck. But mark tha', Tom, there's to be no surrendering."
"I'm not anxious," said the gored man, "to make sport for those brutes while I roast to death on a greenwood gridiron."
"Gentlemen," said the Prince, "may I ask you if you regard our position as quite hopeless?"
"Quite," said Simpson. "If tha' don't believe me, maister, ax Zebedee."
"We'll be five dead men in an hour's time," said the other buccaneer. "All I want is a good pile of dead Spaniards around us; but we'll not get twenty-five."
"I'd like to bet tha' on it," said Simpson thoughtfully.
"Gentlemen," said the Prince, "I presume you are not anxious to die just now?"