“I’m not cross.”
“Well—well, we won’t argue the matter.”
“I’ll argue if I want to, old Epilepsy.”
“Say, Bob,”—pleasantly.
No reply.
“Bob.”
“Huh!”—ungraciously.
“I think I know what we can do to send the wild animals about their business if they bother us.”
“What?”—with a show of interest.
“That is,” with a reflective shake of the head, “if we didn’t throw overboard, when we were about to sink in the Atlantic, the stuff we need.”