“Not very, yet.”
“Ah, you soon will be, and if you ain’t you shall take one of these here oars. That’ll soon put you right. But what a while you was!”
“I—I couldn’t help it,” shivered Dexter, drawing in his breath with a quick hissing sound; “the chain was so hard to undo.”
“Ah, well, never mind now,” said Bob, “only, if we’d got to do it again I should go myself.”
Dexter made no protest, but he thought it sounded rather ungrateful. He was too busy, though, with buttons, and getting his fingers to work in their regular way, to pay much heed, and he went on dressing.
“I say, what a jolly long while you are!” continued Bob. “Oh, and look here! I’d forgot again: why didn’t you bring your bundle with all your clothes and things, eh!”
“Because they weren’t mine.”
“Well, you are a chap! Not yourn? Why, they were made for you, and you wore ’em. They can’t be anybody else’s. I never see such a fellow as you are! I brought all mine.”
It was an easy task, judging from the size of the bundle dimly seen in the bottom of the boat, but Dexter said nothing.
“How much money have you got?” said Bob, after a pause.