“Ha!” replied the Bloater, with a frown that implied the pressure of weighty matters on his mind.
After a few minutes’ silence, during which the cherubic face of Little Jim underwent various contortions, the Bloater said—
“If I ain’t mistaken, Jim, you and I are sound of wind and limb?”
Jim looked up in surprise, and nodded assent.
“Besides which,” continued the Bloater, “we’re rayther fleet than otherwise.”
Again Jim nodded and grinned.
“No Bobby as ever stuck ’is hignorant hinsolent ’ead into a ’elmet ever could catch us.”
“Sk!” ejaculated Jim, expanding from ear to ear.
“Well, then,” continued the Bloater, becoming more grave and confidential, “it’s my opinion, Jim, that you and I shall ’ave a run for it to-night. It’s quite plain that our hamiable friend who seems so fond o’ fire-raisin’ is goin’ to pay ’is respects to Number 5. ’Avin’ got it well alight it is just within the bounds o’ the possible—not to say prob’ble—that ’e’ll give ’em leg-bail—make tracks, as the Yankees say—cut and run for it. Well, in course it would never do to let ’im go off alone, or with only a ’eavy stoopid, conceited slow-coach of a Bobby at ’is tail.”
“No, no,” responded Little Jim; “that would never do. Quite out of the question. ’Ighly himproper.”