“I think I do.”
“I knew yer did; yer Yanks is great on morils. I’m gwine ter tell yer the moril of that story. Did yer say you’d be shot afore supper, or arter?”
“Neither, if it will accommodate you just as well,” replied Somers, greatly perplexed to know what the fellow was going to do.
“Never mind, then; we’ll talk about the moril. It ain’t jest the thing fur us to go inter this house, and make ’em get supper fur us, because we ain’t exac’ly reg’lar. We wan’t the supper, and we may want sunthin’ more, arter that. We don’t want to be seen in the business. Now, we are the monkey, and you are the cat’s paw—don’t yer see?”
“I don’t quite understand you.”
“You shall go in, order the supper, and do the talkin’ for us. When they git supper ready, we’ll go in and eat it, without any of the folks seein’ on us. Yer’ll be cap’n, and do the talkin’ for us—don’t yer see?”
“I see.”
“And keep the folks from seein’ us too—don’t yer see?”
“I see.”
“Now, cap’n, will yer be shot afore supper, or arter?” demanded Turkin.