Mr. Gibbs scowled and, tilting his mug, peered gloomily into the interior.
“Joe won't make no 'ole in the water,” said Mr. Brown, wagging his head. “If it was beer, now—”
Mr. Gibbs turned and, drawing himself up to five feet three, surveyed the speaker with an offensive stare.
“I don't see why he need make a 'ole in anything,” said Mr. Kidd, slowly. “It 'ud do just as well if we said he 'ad. Then we could pass the hat round and share it.”
“Divide it into three halves and each 'ave one,” said Mr. Brown, nodding; “but 'ow is it to be done?”
“'Ave some more beer and think it over,” said Mr. Kidd, pale with excitement. “Three pints, please.”
He and Mr. Brown took up their pints, and nodded at each other. Mr. Gibbs, toying idly with the handle of his, eyed them carefully. “Mind, I'm not promising anything,” he said, slowly. “Understand, I ain't a-committing of myself by drinking this 'ere pint.”
“You leave it to me, Joe,” said Mr. Kidd.
Mr. Gibbs left it to him after a discussion in which pints played a persuasive part; with the result that Mr. Brown, sitting in the same bar the next evening with two or three friends, was rudely disturbed by the cyclonic entrance of Mr. Kidd, who, dripping with water, sank on a bench and breathed heavily.
“What's up? What's the matter?” demanded several voices.