“And he felt like that there Pete Warboys, didn’t he?”
“Yes—no—I don’t know,” said Tom confusedly; and David scratched his head.
“That’s like asking a man a riddle, sir,” he said. “Can’t make much o’ that.”
“Well, what can I say, David?” cried Tom impatiently. “It was pitch dark, and I was thinking of nothing else but catching him. I could see nothing but the dim-looking windows.”
“But you felt him, sir.”
“Oh yes, I had hold of him.”
“Well, did he feel like Pete?”
“What nonsense! One lad would feel like another.”
“Oh no, sir, he wouldn’t. Pete’s bones’d feel all loose and shimbly. Bound to say you heared his jyntes keep on cracking.”
“No, I don’t remember that.—Yes, I do,” continued Tom excitedly. “I did hear him go crack twice when we were wrestling.”