"I'd like the chocolate," answered Lessels, with some show on interest. "An' I'd like a boxful of caramels; an' a barley-sugar lion; an' a real engine which would go by itself an' wun into things. An' I'd like a toy fire-engine, so that I could set fire to Madge's dolls' house an' put it out; an' a bucketful of ice cream, an'——"
"Don't speak so loud, you little duffer, or you'll get nothing at all!" interrupted the elder boy. "Just get out of bed at once, and dress yourself without dropping anything. We're off to Klondyke!"
"Off to what?"
"Klondyke—a place where you dig money out of the ground like coals. Big lumps of solid gold, what'll buy a whole shopful of toys, and tons of best London mixture and marzipan. See?"
"What about washin' our faces an' bweakfast?"
"Miners never wash themselves, silly; and they don't have proper breakfasts till they've made their pile."
"What's a miner, an' who's a pile?" asked Lessels, chasing himself across the room backwards to attach his braces to a rear button which was apparently running away.
"A miner's a man who digs gold up and washes it in a cinder-sifter," explained Stanley. "And he shoots everybody who comes near him except his pard. I'm off to Klondyke to be a miner before dada awakes, and you've got to be my pard."
"Who'll I shoot?" asked Lessels, with a defiant glare.
"Everybody but me," answered Stanley, condescendingly. "We'll want my best sixpence-ha'penny gun; several sticks of lead pencil to shoot; two spades; a cinder-sifter; an umberrellar to sleep under; our nightshirts; a loaf of bread, and a big knife."