“The third one?” cried Mark eagerly.
“Yes, sir; that’s right.”
“Well, of course that was mine. Well, where is it?”
Buck took off his cap, scratched his head, and looked hard at Dean.
“Well, you needn’t look at me,” said the boy. “I haven’t got it.”
“No, sir, I can see that,” said Buck, and he stared hard and questioningly at Dan, who looked back resentfully.
“Here, don’t stare at me, messmate,” cried the little sailor. “Think I’ve got it up my sleeve, or down one of the legs of my trowzes?”
“No, mate; you are such a little ’un that there wouldn’t be room,” said Buck thoughtfully.
“Right you are, mate; but you see I may grow a bit yet.”
“Yes,” said Buck, very slowly and thoughtfully, “and pigs may fly.”