“Hsh!” said Tom. “He’s got the money in that!”
“The money that he stole?”
“The money that him and the other cove stole. The money he killed his mate for!”
“Hush!” cried Dave, looking anxiously around. “Don’t get talkin’ about that; for God’s sake, Tom don’t.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Tom emphatically. “I wish I never see it, nor him either. We’d had a all-right time only for him. ’E keeps croppin’ up, croppin’ up just when things is goin’ straight, and now ’e’s nailed us ’ere an’ took our boat an’ our tent, an’ our tucker, an’ everything!”
“Yes,” agreed Dave, feeling his neck fearfully; “an’ the next thing he’ll do is cut our throats an’ dig a hole an’ bury us, or throw us in the river. I’m dead full of the whole thing.”
“Shut up!” retorted Tom; “you’re a nice kind o’ cove to start yelping like this.”
“Well, so did you last night.”
“I never. It was the smoke got in me eyes.”
“Well, the sun’s got in mine now. What are we goin’ to do?”