“Oh, we’re not fools,” said Esau, shortly.
“Don’t tell lies, boy,” said the man, giving him an angry look. “Don’t you be too clever, because you’ll always find some one cleverer. Look here,” he continued, turning to me, “perhaps you’re not quite so clever as he is. I thought I’d just say a word before I go about the people here. There’s plenty of a good sort, but there’s a set hanging about the wharfs and places that will be on the look-out to treat you two lads like oranges—suck you dry, and then throw away the skins. Going to stop here?”
“No,” I said; “we are going up country to join some friends.”
“Then you get up country and join your friends as soon as you can. That’s all. Good-bye.”
He nodded shortly at me, but did not offer to shake hands.
“Good-bye, sharp ’un,” he growled at Esau.
“Good-bye,” said Esau, defiantly, and then the man turned away.
“Never did like chaps with one eye,” said Esau. “Strikes me that he’s pretending to be so innocent, and all the while he’s just the sort of fellow to try and cheat you.”
“Oh no,” I said; “he’s not a pleasant fellow, but I think he’s honest.”
“I don’t,” cried Esau. “He took a fancy to that four-bladed knife of mine on the voyage, and he has been waiting till he was going to leave the ship. I’m not going to make a row about it, ’cause I might be wrong; but I had that knife last night, and this morning it’s gone.”