“That’s my business. I ain’t goin’ to tell you—you might put a cove away.”
“Me!” replied Dave; “not me. I ain’t built that way.”
“Say,” cried Tom, suddenly, “let us both run away. We’ll go mates. We’ll have an all right time, I promise yer.”
The red-headed boy’s face lit up. It was a strong temptation.
“Look ’ere,” cried Tom, leaning his bare arm on the muddy wheel of the milk-cart; “look ’ere, Dave, if you promise not to put me away I’ll let you into it.”
“I promise,” gasped Dave.
“On your oath?”
“Yes, on me oath.”
Tom glanced up and down the road.
“Look,” he said in a hushed, important voice, “I’ve got a boat.”