“Yes,” says the boy, fiddling with ’is fingers; “if you keep your ugly mouth shut, we’ll go shares.”
“Ho!” says Bill, “I thought you throwed it overboard!”
“I thought so, too, Bill,” says Jimmy, very softly, “and when I came below ag’in I found it in my trousers pocket.”
“Where is it now?” says Bill.
“Never mind where it is,” says the boy; “you couldn’t get it if I was to tell you. It’ll take me all my time to do it myself.”
“Where is it?” says Bill, ag’in. “I’m goin’ to take care of it. I won’t trust you.”
“And I can’t trust you,” says Jimmy.
“If you don’t tell me where it is this minute,” says Bill, moving to the ladder ag’in, “I’m off to tell the skipper. I want it in my ’ands, or at any rate my share of it. Why not share it out now?”
“Because I ’aven’t got it,” says Jimmy, stamping ’is foot, “that’s why, and it’s all your silly fault. Arter you came pawing through my pockets when you thought I was asleep I got frightened and ’id it.”
“Where?” says Bill.