“Cert’n’y, sir.”
“And come here.”
Tom Jecks stepped forward obsequiously.
“Look, the tin sticks all round fast into the tail as if it were a rabbit trap.”
“Ay, sir, it do; and if I might say so, they managed it very cleverly.”
“Cleverly?”
“Yes, sir. If I’d been doing it, I should on’y have thought of tying it on with a bit o’ spun-yarn; but this here tin holds it wonderful tight.”
“How are we to get it off?”
“Oh, I can soon get it off,” cried Tom Jecks, who seemed to be imbued with the same notion as Alexander of old, who unsheathed his sword to cut the Gordian knot. For he hauled out his knife by the lanyard, opened the blade with his teeth, and took a step forward, but Ching held the canister behind him and dodged round me.
“Steady, my lad,” growled Tom Jecks, “it arn’t a operation. Stand by.”