"An' they tell me yer a-goin' with Don Mason! A good, likely young skipper, that!"
"Hello, old feller!"
Pete's voice rose above the captain's.
"Run along!" growled Slater, turning sharply at the sound, and eyeing the lad with a scowl. "Thought I know'd that voice. Both o' ye kin toddle."
"So we kin, when we gits ready, Cap'n," retorted Pete, calmly; "an' we ain't ready yit, eh, Jimmy?"
"I reckon not!" answered Jimmy, defiantly.
"If ye could only tote them perwerse young lubbers far away, an' lose 'em, ye'd be doin' the community a thunderin' big sarvice," growled the captain.
"'Tain't me an' Jim's fault if we ain't a-goin', old feller," chuckled Pete; "we asked 'em." Then, unmindful of Mr. Lovell's presence, he added, witheringly, "Sich a wonderful lot o' dubs they is, too! Think nobody ain't good nuff fur 'em, mebbe! Oh, yes, they is the goods, all right!"
"I don't think," sniffed Jimmy.
"Can't wrastle! Don't even know when they's sized up ter beat the band."