“Oh, that was only a manoofer, Master Syd, just to scare you into s’rending.”
“Then there is no one coming?”
“It’s par—role, mind.”
“Yes, parole, of course.”
“And you won’t try to cut and run again?”
“No—no!” cried Sydney, impatiently.
“No one. Now then you, Pan, my man, hyste yerself on them two legs o’ yourn. On’y you wait till I’m a-handlin’ that there bit o’ rope.”
“You touch him if you dare!” cried Sydney. “My father will punish him.”
“Oh, Master Syd!” cried Pan.
“Hold your row, will you, you lubber,” growled Barney, seizing his son by the collar, setting him on his legs, and giving him a good shake at the same time.