“Why so, Billy?”
“’Cause I’m having to go cutting about here like a lamp-lighter as has lost his lantern, and ain’t got no lamposties near. Blow the old ladder! I’m sick on it.”
“Give us hold, and you take these ropes,” said Smith, “I never see such a fellow for grumbling as you are, Billy. You’d only got to say as you was tired, and I’d ha’ took it at once.”
Wriggs chewed and spat on the ground, but he made no other movement.
“Well, are yer going to ketch hold o’ these here ropes?”
“No, I aren’t going to ketch hold o’ no ropes. Cause why? It’s my spell with the ladder, and I’m a-going to carry the ladder till it’s time to give it up.”
“Well, you are a horbstnit one, Billy, and no mistake.”
“Look-ye here, are you going to keep your mouth shut? ’Cause if you’re not, I’m a-going to get furder away afore the Injuns begins to shoot. I don’t want no pysoned arrows sticking into me.”
“Course you don’t, mate. Look-ye here, if I was you I’d stand that there ladder straight up, and then go aloft and sit on the top rung. You could rest yourself, and be a deal safer up there.”
“Chaff!” growled Wriggs. “Chaff! Better hold your tongue, Tommy, if yer can’t talk sense. What does young Mr Oliver say—Forrard again?”