“What do you mean?”
“Yawn at it, sir.”
“Oh!” said Archie. “Well, but, Pete, that tiger you talked about kept me awake all night.”
“So he did me, sir.”
“Yes,” said Archie, laughing; “but you’ve slept all day since.”
“Right, sir. That’s one to you, Mister Archie. Well, sir, that’s our game, just as I say. We’ll lay up a good stock of rations—I mean save the fresh and keep on eating the stale, and be all ready for the right morning, and when it comes, nip outside, mount the helephant, and away we will go—I mean, that is, if you think that you can creep up same as I do, and lower yourself down from the roof.”
“I think I could now, Pete.”
The lad grunted.
“What do you mean by that?”
“It means I don’t, sir. I know you’d try, but try ain’t enough. You must do. Still, it don’t mean that we are going to start to-morrow morning; and a good job, too, because there’s grub, and our sleep-chests is pretty well empty. We must both be as fit as fiddles, sir, and then we can play a tune that will make the niggers stare.”