“Yes, of course; but it’s as well not. I know those chaps. They’re wonderfully strong and vicious. Only safe in a cage. We couldn’t have done with him here. I say, shouldn’t you like to make one with me in an expedition to knock that prison to pieces?”
“Yes,” cried Stan eagerly. “Could it be done?”
“Yes, if we went to war; but I dare say if proper application were made we could get compensation. We shall see I say, though, what about that gathering of war-junks you saw? Not piratical craft, were they?”
“I don’t know,” replied Stan. “I had thought no more of them. I thought more, however, of that poor boy’s boat that I took.”
“Ah! that was a bit of an annexation. Never mind; I’ll send it back to the Chinese merchants we deal with; they’ll find out whom it belongs to.”
“’Longs to,” said Stan slowly.
“Hullo!” cried Blunt. “What’s the matter? Feel ill?”
“Hi? I—Oh, I can’t help it; I’m so stupidly sleepy I can’t keep my eyes open, and I could hardly understand what you said last—so dreadfully drowsy I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll tell you,” said Blunt, smiling.
“Do, please. Go and bathe my face?”