“Look here,” cried Bob, “I must go on after these leggings for the skipper; but, I say, Tom, as I said before, I’ll bet half a rupee that Ali don’t go to the hunt when he finds we are to stay.”
“Stuff!”
“Well, it may be stuff; but you see if he don’t stop behind, and, as soon as they are all off, come across here.”
“I wish he would,” said Tom. “It’ll be dull enough.”
“If he does, we’ll have a good turn at the fish,” said Bob. “Good night, if I don’t see you again.”
“I say,” said Bob, turning round and speaking out of the darkness.
“Well?”
“I don’t wish ’em any harm; but I hope they won’t see a blessed tiger all the time they’re away.”
“So do I,” said Tom. “Good night!”
“Good night!” And Bob found the major; borrowed the pair of canvas leggings, with which he returned to the boat, and was rowed back to the corvette, where he had the pleasure of going over the captain’s shooting gear, and helping him to fill his cartridge cases, and the like.