Chapter Thirty Two.
Close Shaving.
“Think he’s insensible, or only shamming?” said Jem.
“Insensible—quite! I’m afraid he’s dead.”
“I arn’t,” muttered Jem. “You might cut him up like a heel; legs and arms and body, and every bit of him would try and do you a mischief.”
“I’m afraid, though, that he knew we were in here, and that as soon as he comes to, he’ll tell the others.”
“Not he. It was only his gammon to frighten us into speaking if we were there.”
“Ramsden, ahoy!” came again from below; and then from a distance came another hail, which the same voice answered—evidently from some distance below the mouth of the cave.