“I declare I will,” cried Joe, bending down and seizing the boy by the arm and waistband.
“All right, do: it will be deliriously cool.”
Joe Emson rose up and took hold of his big beard.
“Don’t leave me everything to do, Dyke, old boy,” he said appealingly. “I wouldn’t lose that great ostrich for any money.”
Dyke muttered something about hating the old ostrich, but did not stir.
“All right. I’ll go alone,” said Joe; and he turned away and walked swiftly back.
But before he had gone a dozen yards Dyke had sprung up and overtaken him.
“I’ll come, Joe,” he said; “but that old cock does make me so wild. I know he understands, and he does it on purpose to tease me. I wish you’d shoot him.”
“Can’t afford the luxury, little un,” said Joe, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “Let’s make our pile first.”
“Then the goblin will live for ever,” sighed the boy, “for we shall never make any piles.—Where is he?”