“Right, sir, on’y shouldn’t I be useful to you when we gets there?”
“Of course, very: but we can’t do without a light.”
“No, sir, that we can’t. How many shall you want?”
“Ask for half-a-dozen,” said Panton, “and be as smart as you can.”
“Half-a-dozen, sir,” said Smith, “that all?”
“Yes, be off!”
“But Billy Wriggs’s got more’n that tucked inside his jersey, if they ain’t melted away. Air they, Billy?”
“No,” said that gentleman, thrusting his hand inside his blue knitted garment. “The wicks is all right, and they’re gettin’ a bit soft, but there’s nothing else amiss.”
“Well done, Smith,” cried Oliver, who by this time pretty well knew his man. “You thought we should want some, then?”
“Course I did, sir. We ain’t got cat’s eyes, and we can’t see like them speckydillo chaps as we hear going about in the woods o’ nights. So I thought we’d bring some dips, and if we didn’t want ’em we could only bring ’em back again.”