“How?”
“Lay it on a stool and stamp upon it.”
“Good! that will flatten it and make the opening gape.”
It did, after the exercise of a fair amount of pressure; and then, by the help of Tom Jecks, who was wonderfully penitent now, and eager to help with a tool he brought—to wit, a marlinespike—the star-like points of tin were one by one forced out, and the tail withdrawn uninjured, except that the silk ribbon at the end was a good deal frayed.
“Ha!” ejaculated Tom. “We’ve made an end of it at last. My word, Mr Herrick, sir, it’s truly-thankful-Amen I am that the poor chap’s all right again.”
“And so am I, Tom Jecks,” I replied.
“O’ course you is, sir; I never meant to cut his tail, only to frighten him a bit; but, poor heathen, he took it all as serious as seas. Shall I go and chuck the tin-can overboard?”
“No; leave it here for him to find when he wakes up.”
“Right it is, sir. But what a fuss for a man to make about a bit o’ hair. He never howls about having his head shaved.”
“No,” I said; “but you see he would have given anything sooner than have his tail touched.”