“What is it?”
“The men on the roof want to say something.”
“Do they?—Ahoy, there! What is it?”
“Can’t we have a big bamboo up here, sir?” said the clerk who had been waiting to speak.
“A big bamboo?” cried Blunt. “Do you want to bastinado your comrade?”
“No, no, sir. One of the biggest down yonder in the yard. If you sent us up a rope, sir, we could haul the great pole up and lash it to this chimney-stack. We feel as if we ought to have a Union-jack hoisted up here.”
“Why, of course,” cried Stan excitedly.
“Yes—of course,” cried Blunt. “I’m glad you mentioned it. I never thought of that. But there’s plenty of time. Breakfast first, and the flag afterwards. Come along, Lynn.”
“Oh, don’t—pray don’t take things so coolly,” whispered Stan as they climbed in over the tea-chest wall.
“Why not? We must be cool, my lad, if we wish to win.”