“Oh, this is a friend, is it?” said Mike Bannock, as he gave a tug at his rough beard, and turned from one to the other. “Arn’t come arter me, then?”
“No, not likely,” said Jem. “Had enough of you at home.”
“Don’t you be sarcy,” growled Mike Bannock; “and lookye here, these gentlemen—friends of mine!”—he nodded sidewise at the two fierce-looking desperadoes at his side—“is very nice in their way, but they won’t stand no fooling. Lookye here. How was it you come?”
“In a ship of war,” said Don.
“Ho! Then where’s that ship o’ war now?”
“I don’t know.”
“No lies now,” said the fellow fiercely; “one o’ these here gentlemen knocked a man on the head once for telling lies.”
“Ah,” growled one of the party, a short, evil-looking scoundrel, with a scar under his right eye.
“Hear that?” cried Mike Bannock. “Now, then, where’s that there ship?”
“I tell you I don’t know,” said Don sharply.