“It is, Ike,” I said; “but I didn’t know any better. How did you know where I was?”
“How did I know? Why, Shock saw you and followed you, and come back and fetched me, when I was staring at the cart and wondering what had gone of you two.”
“Where is he now?” I asked.
“What, Shock? Oh, I don’t know. He’s a queer chap. P’r’aps they’ve got him instead of you.”
I stopped short and looked at him, but saw directly that he was only joking, and went on again:
“You don’t think that,” I said quickly; “for if you did you would not have come away. Do you think he has gone back to the cart?”
“Oh, there’s no knowing,” he replied. “P’r’aps when we get back there won’t be any cart; some one will have run away with it. They’re rum uns here in London.”
“Why, you haven’t left the cart alone, Ike,” I cried.
“That’s a good one, that is,” he exclaimed. “You haven’t left the cart alone! Why, you and Shock did.”
“Yes,” I said; “but—”