The ruse was not successful. Ted failed to respond.
'Twitter don't seem to want to be no black boy,' said Phil.
'I'll be Jacky-Jacky,' volunteered Peterson eagerly.
Peterson was a stolid youth with a face like a wooden doll; absolutely reliable since he was as stubborn under adult rule as a whole team of unbroken bullocks, and quite reckless of consequences for the reason that he never anticipated them. Peterson would have made a most successful Jacky-Jacky, but his suggestion was overlooked in the general concern inspired by Ted's conduct.
Feeling the eyes of the party upon him, Ted grew more uneasy, the corners of his mouth drew down, one finger went up slowly, and Twitter began to snivel.
'I—I—w—wa—want to go home,' he said.
The mates looked at each other in amazement. Ted was little, but his pluck had been tried on many occasions, and this was a great surprise.
'Well, he's on'y a kiddy,' said Phil pityingly, and with the superiority two years may confer.
Dick found the three were looking to him for an explanation.
'Ted's real scared,' he said. 'We made a discovery this afternoon—in there.'