“I didn’t say anything,” said Tommy untruthfully.
To the wrath and confusion of the crew next day their commanding officer put them back on the old diet again. The old meat was again served out, and the grass-fed luxury from the cabin stopped. Bill shared the fate of all leaders when things go wrong, and, from being the idol of his fellows, became a butt for their gibes.
“What about your little idea now?” grunted old Ned, scornfully, that evening as he broke his biscuit roughly with his teeth, and dropped it into his basin of tea.
“You ain’t as clever as you thought you was, Bill,” said the cook with the air of a discoverer.
“And there’s that pore dear boy shut up in the dark for nothing,” said Simpson, with somewhat belated thoughtfulness. “An’ cookie doing his work.”
“I’m not going to be beat,” said Bill blackly, “the old man was badly scared yesterday. We must have another sooicide, that’s all.”
“Let Tommy do it again,” suggested the cook flippantly, and they all laughed.
“Two on one trip’ll about do the old man up,” said Bill, regarding the interruption unfavourably. “Now, who’s going to be the next?”
“We’ve had enough o’ this game,” said Simpson, shrugging his shoulders, “you’ve gone cranky, Bill.”
“No, I ain’t,” said Bill; “I’m not going to be beat, that’s all. Whoever goes down they ’ll have a nice, easy, lazy time. Sleep all day if he likes, and nothing to do. You ain’t been looking very well lately, Ned.”