“Now, then, d’yer hear what I said?”
Wriggs gave a short nod.
“Well, say something, then. What’cher thinking about?”
“I was a thinking, Tommy, as it warn’t no use for you to go on talking, when we ought to be toddlin’ back and telling the three gents as we’re in a mess.”
“Well, there is something in that, Billy. What d’yer say, then, shall we run and tell ’em?”
“No, Tommy; if we gets up and begins to run, them crystal minstrel chaps’ll see us, and come arter us like hooray. We oughter congeal ourselves back again.”
“How are we to, when there aren’t no trees to congeal behind?”
“This how,” said Wriggs. “I’m off. You foller arter me same way.”
As soon as he had done speaking, he laid his gun close down by his side and began to roll himself over and over with such rapidity that he was some yards away before Smith thought of imitating his action.
“Well, this here is a rum ’un,” he grumbled. “I never thought when I come to sea as I should have to turn myself into a garden roller. But one never knows!”