“He would not dare,” said Don.
“Well, if he did, I should have liked to have a few words first with Mr Ramsden; for of all the mean, dirty, sneaking chaps I ever set eyes on, he’s about the worst.”
“A mean, cowardly spy!” cried Don.
“Ah, that’s it; so he is, Mas’ Don; a mean, cowardly spy. I couldn’t think o’ them words, but they’re just what he is.—Say, Mas’ Don.”
“Don’t, don’t, don’t, Jem.”
“Don’t what, Mas’ Don?”
“Don’t do that. Master Don. It sounds so foolish, and it’s ridiculous, seeing what we are.”
“All right, my lad, I’ll be careful; but what I wanted to say was, would there be any harm in taking Master Ramsden by his waistband, and dropping him some night over into the sea?”
“Do you want to commit murder, Jem?”
“Do I want to commit murder? Nay, Mas’ Don, gently, gently; don’t talk to a man like that. I only meant to give him a ducking.”