“Will you hold up!” growled Barney, fiercely, as he shook his son, who seemed to want to burrow down out of sight through the carpet.
“Oh, father!” began Syd. But he was stopped by his uncle.
“Hold your tongue, sir! Court hasn’t called upon you for your defence. Look here, Harry, put the prisoners back while we talk it over.”
“Yes,” said the captain, coldly, “you can go to your room, sir, and wait till your uncle and I have decided what steps we shall take.”
“Yes, sir, confound you! and go and wash your dirty face,” said Sir Thomas, fiercely; “you look a disgrace to your name.”
“As for your boy, Strake, take him and punish him well.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” growled Barney, with alacrity; but his voice was almost drowned by a howl of misery from Pan—a cry that was checked by his father’s fierce grip.
“Like me to do down Master Syd same time, sir?” whispered the ex-boatswain.
“No, father, don’t let him be punished,” said Sydney, quickly. “I made him come back.”
“Yes, sir, he did, he did,” cried Pan, eagerly. “You did; didn’t you, Master Syd?”