"You!" exclaimed Job, staring in open-mouthed amazement, as did also the other two.
"Why not?" I rejoined. "Black George needs a helper, and I need money."
"My chap," said Job warningly, "don't ye do it. You be a tidy, sizable chap, but Black Jarge ud mak' no more o' you than I should of a babby—don't ye do it."
"Better not," said Simon.
"On the contrary," I returned, "better run a little bodily risk and satisfy one's hunger, rather than lie safe but famishing beneath some hedge or rick—what do you think, Ancient?"
The old man leaned forward and peered up at me sharply beneath his hanging brows.
"Well?" said I.
"You'm right!" he nodded, "and a man wi' eyes the like o' yourn bean't one as 'tis easy to turn aside, even though it do be Black Jarge as tries."
"Then," said Job, as I took up my staff, "if your back's broke, my chap—why, don't go for to blame me, that's all! You be a sight too cocksure—ah, that you be!"
"I'm thinkin' Black Jarge would find this chap a bit different to Job," remarked the Ancient. "What do 'ee think, Simon?"