“Not a bit on it, sir, arksing your pardon. Frenchy never trusted me a mite; only got all the work out of me that he could.”
“Well, well, we will not argue little points,” said Mr Brymer, impatiently, as the chopping and firing went on. “You saw a great deal of what was going on.”
“Yes, sir, heaps; I kep’ my eyes open.”
“Well, tell me this—what about the powder and weapons? What do you know about them?”
“I’ll tell you, sir,” said Bob; “but, begging your pardon, hadn’t you better clap a stopper on this here game?”
“How, man?”
“Answering them shots, sir.”
“I would, but my cartridges are nearly all gone. How did you get these?”
“Outer the hold, sir, where they stowed ’em close alongside o’ the blasting-powder. There’s plenty more.”
“Can you get them?”