“Here, messmate.”
“Oh, come then, I might be right, on’y you see we’ve got Mr Dale with us.”
“Look here, what are you fogging about? Why don’t you say what yer mean, my lad? Now then, out with it. Where are we?—’cause Mr Dale wants to know.”
“Well, as he’s here, we can’t be here,” growled Dumlow.
“What d’yer mean, stoopid?”
“Why, we can’t be where I thought we was.”
“And wheers that?”
“Why, my lad, it looks like this here ’cording to what I feels. But stop a moment, let’s ask Barney a question. Barney, old lad!”
“Hullo!”
“How’s yer head?”