“Then shake hands properly,” said Jack.
“Give him the boot,” cried Sepopo, as soon as his hand was untied, and he had gone through the required ceremony with his brother.
“No, no; give him the boot,” cried the other.
“Hold your tongues,” cried Jack. “I say, Dick, let’s call them something else if they are going to stop with us, Sepopo! Bechele! What names!”
“Well,” said Dick, languidly, as he sat down in a weary fashion: “one’s going to be your boy, and the other mine. Let’s call them ‘Black Jack’ and ‘Black Dick.’”
“But they are brown,” said his brother.
“Yes, they are brown certainly,” said Dick, thoughtfully. “Regular coffee colour. You might call one of them ‘Coffee.’”
“That’ll do,” said Jack, laughing, “‘Coffee!’ and shorten it into ‘Cough.’ I say, Dick, I’ll have that name, and I can tell people I’ve got a bad ‘Cough.’ But what will you call the other?”
“I don’t know. Stop a moment— ‘Chicory.’”
“And shorten it into ‘chick’. That will do, Dick; splendid! Cough and Chick. Now you two, one of you is to be Cough and the other Chick; do you hear?”