"That's all right, that's all right," said Mike soothingly to him. "You're all right. See, young feller,"—to the man with the Stetson hat—"you come over here beside me and I'll tell you when there's a chance."
The young fellow came toward him.
"Good luck!" said Cockney.
"What I get," added Mike, "is none of their business."
"Well," said the young fellow, "ten bob to 'tend cattle across the Atlantic seems pretty poor. I'll ask thirty."
"Well, ye can't do better than that, can ye?" answered Mike. "Askin' it, I mane."
Cockney whirled round upon someone who had muttered, and thrust forward his face at the end of an elastic neck.
"No, he's not—'e's not goin' over fer nuthin'! Didn't yer 'ear 'im say? I bet yer 'e'll go over fer more'n you."
A short broad man, somewhat like Mike in miniature, declaimed: "What's the use o' listening? Can't believe anybody. I hear a feller say: 'I wouldn't go over for ten shillings—wouldn't go over for less than two quid.' Believe he goes over just to get across—for nothing."
Several, at this, glanced grinning at the young man whom Mike had befriended.