“Why,” says he, “it’ll give you something to think about all the rest of your life.”
“Seeing,” says I, “that my life ain’t apt to last much more’n a few hours, that isn’t much comfort.”
“Rats,” says he, “the heroes always get out of it somehow. I never read a book where the hero came to much harm.”
“This,” says I, “isn’t any book. This is awful real. There’s a real box corner prodding a hole in my hide. This is a real tarpaulin that’s choking us to death. Those are real men with arms and legs....”
“Fiddlesticks,” says he. “We’re in for the adventure of our lives. We’ve got to circumvent these mutineers and save Jonas P. On top of that, we’ve got to grab the treasure for Mr. Browning and Mr. Topper, and——”
“I know the undertaker back home,” says I, “and I never liked him.”
“Who you’ll get to know,” says he, “is the president of the bank. And if this goes right, he’ll take off his hat to you the next time you pass.”
“Folks,” says I, “and even the bank presidents, take off their hats to funeral processions.”
CHAPTER XVI
“A little sleep wouldn’t do me any harm,” says I.