“No, I won’t,” said Stumps, sulkily, endeavouring to push past.
“Well, well, no offence. Keep an easy mind, and if you should chance to change it, just come and see me, Captain Bounce, of the Swordfish. There she lies, in all her beauty, quite a picture. Good-day.”
The eccentric skipper passed on, but Stumps did not move. He stood there with his eyes riveted on the pavement, and his lips tightly compressed. Evidently the drowning plan had been abandoned for something else—something that caused him to frown, then to smile, then to grow slightly pale, and then to laugh somewhat theatrically. While in this mood he was suddenly pushed to one side by some one who said—
“The track’s made for walkin’ on, not standin’, young—Hallo!”
It was Slagg who had thus roughly encountered his mate.
“Why, Stumps, what’s the matter with yon?”
“Nothing.”
“Where ’ave you bin to?”
“Nowhere.”
“Who’s bin a-frightenin’ of you!”