“Bourke,” replied Tom, scratching his head; “Bourke! Oh, Bourke’s away up in Northern Queensland somewhere. It’s so ’ot all you’ve got to do is to put your eggs in a pan, and lay the pan out in the sun to fry ’em.”
Both boys were silent for a while thinking. Then Dave spoke.
“Don’t you think we better give up piratin’?” he asked.
“What for?” queried Tom.
“Well it don’t look lucky!”
“Of course, it ain’t lucky. It never is lucky; not at first; but after you get properly goin’ it’s all right. When we get a proper pirate ship an’ a crew——”
“Crew!” exclaimed Dave, “where we goin’ to get ’em?”.
“You leave that to me. Dave Gibson; I’m runnin’ this show; you just got to do what you’re told, and don’t you talk no more about goin’ an’ giving’ evidence in this murder case. When the time’s ripe I’ll be there, and you kin come along an’ back me up.”
“I’ll back you up,” replied Dave, promptly. “I’ll say anything you say; I’ll swear it, too.”
“Y’see, it’s this way,” Tom explained confidentially, “we might get into a bit o’ trouble ourselves about the boat an’ one thing an’ another, an’ if we was to come forward jist at the right time an’ tell the true story about the murder, we’d be let off, an’ maybe get a reward, too, or get a billet in the Government, or somethin’.”