“Now I’ll tell you what’s a fact. What do you mean by that?” asked Perk.
“I mean that if you break that gun among you in trying to fix it, you will have to buy a new one of me to replace it.”
“Why the weapon is useless now,” said Frank, bending back the hammer, which instantly fell down upon the tube when he released it. “Even if I should break it, it couldn’t be in any worse condition than it is now.”
“No matter. You’ve got a rogue to deal with, and he wouldn’t ask any better fun than to make you give him a new gun for his wornout piece.”
“But I wouldn’t do it,” said Frank.
“Then in two or three days we should have a band of Griqua warriors down here to ask what’s the reason,” returned Uncle Dick.
“Whew!” whistled Frank. “If that’s the kind of scrape I am likely to get into by being accommodating, I’ll go no further. Here Mr.—Mr.—”
“Jones,” suggested Archie.
“Here, Jones, take your old gun. I can’t do anything with it.”
He handed the weapon to the owner as he spoke, but to his great surprise the native backed away, put his hands behind his back and refused to receive it. He shook his head vehemently and gabbled loudly in Dutch, at the same time appealing to his companions, who nodded their approval.