“Yes, and we’ve done it,” I replied rather sulkily.
“Well, oughtn’t we to take the things out of the paper, and lay the paper all neatly and save the string?”
“Think so?” I said longingly.
Bigley hesitated, took up a packet, turned it over, balanced it in his hand, laid it down again, and rearranged several of the others without speaking, but he heaved a deep sigh.
“Think we ought to unpack them further?” I said.
“No,” said Bigley unwillingly. “I don’t think it would be right. Do you?”
“No,” I said with a sigh; “but I should like to have a look.”
We two lads went on hovering about the table, peering at first one packet and then at another, feeling them up and down, and quite convincing ourselves that certain ones were a little more ornamental than others. There was no doubt about it, we felt. They were swords, pistols, and carbines.
“Here, I know,” I exclaimed.
“Know what, Sep?”