“And, look here, Barney,” said Sydney, quietly, “you are not to hit Pan.”
“Not what, my lad?”
“You are not to rope’s-end him.”
“Who says so?”
“I do.”
“Oh, you do, do you? Well, look here, my lad, he’s hurt my feelings so that I’m going to lock myself up with him in his bedroom, and then I’m going to skin him.”
“Oh, oh!” cried Pan.
“You are not going to touch him, but to bring him before my father.”
“’Fore the skipper?” said Barney, in a puzzled voice. “Well, yes, my lad, he’s in full command. There is something in that.”
“But you shouted, and said some one was coming. Who is it?”