“Never mind; I’ll put ’em right for you. There you are; turn in, and I don’t suppose any one will upset you after to-night. If anybody comes, and you hear him, hit out.”
“Thank you,” said Syd, rather dolefully; “I will.”
He climbed into his hammock again, and listened to the rustling sound made by Roylance and the remarks of his messmates.
“Baby Jenks was right. Old Roy means to suck every shilling out of the new fellow,” said a voice.
“Does he, Bolton?” cried Roylance. “I know your voice.”
“Why, I never spoke. ’Twasn’t me,” cried the accused.
“Well, it sounded like you,” grumbled Roylance, and there was another roar of laughter.
“Look here, youngsters, I want to go to sleep, and I’ll come and cut down the next fellow who makes a row.”
“Yah!”
“Boo!”