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H'if that bloomin' 'eathen that spoke of th' treasure city told truth, h'I'm one fer believin' we're nearin' th' spot." Jarvis spoke more cheerfully than he had at any time during the strange journey. Dave smiled, as he wondered whether this was due to the fact their walk had warmed them somewhat, or his rising hopes that they would at least get to see the fabled treasure city.
H'I'm bound to 'aunt this 'all, an' that's hall there is about it. H'I carn't find a better wy to ly them Baingletops low than by attachin' of their hincome, hand the rent of this 'all is the honly bit of hincome within my reach." "But I've leased the place for five years," said Terwilliger, in despair; "and I've paid the rent in advance." "Carn't 'elp it," returned the ghost.
"Wot hev h'I been a-doin' of fur a lively-hood, sir?" repeated the sooty gentleman, who evidently was a wag, speaking, albeit with a comical expression on his countenance, with a native dignity that would have won the praise of Lord Chesterfield. "W'y, sir, h'I'm a `h'upright, sir, that's wot h'I h'am!" "An `upright'!" exclaimed Commander Nesbitt, with a smile.
"We'll call a truce for two weeks, at the end of which time you must come back here, and we'll settle on the final arrangements. Keep your own counsel in the matter, and don't breathe a word about your intentions to anybody. Above all, keep sober." "H'I'm no cannibal," retorted the ghost. "Who said you were?" asked Terwilliger. "You intimated as much," said the ghost, with a smile.
"No taikers," retorted the ghost, as the bullets whistled through her chest, and struck deep into the wall on the other side of the kitchen. "That's a noisy gun you've got, but you carn't ly a ghost with cold lead hany more than you can ly a corner-stone with a chicken. H'I'm 'ere to sty until I gets me waiges."
Spook, or whatever your name is, this is rubbing it in, to try to collect as much money as that, particularly from me, who wasn't to blame in any way, and on whom you haven't the spook of a claim." "H'I'm very sorry for you, Mr. Terwilliger," said the ghost. "But my vow must be kept sacrid." "But why don't you come down on the Bangletops up in London, and squeeze it out of them?" "H'I carn't.
"H'I'm simply the shide of a poor abused cook which is hafter revenge." "Ah!" ejaculated Terwilliger, raising his eyebrows, "this is getting interesting. You're a spook with a grievance, eh? Against me? I've never wronged a ghost that I know of." "No, h'I've no 'ard feelinks against you, sir," answered the ghost. "Hin fact h'I don't know nothink about you.
"Then it's time you moved, unless perchance you are the ghost of a mediaeval porker," Hankinson said, his calmness returning now that he had succeeded in plastering his iron-gray lock across the top of his otherwise bald head. "Of course, if you are a spook of that kind you want the earth, and maybe you'll get it." "H'I'm no porker," returned the spectre.
My trouble's with them Baingletops, and h'I'm a-pursuin' of 'em. H'I've cut 'em out of two 'undred years of rent 'ere. They might better 'ave pide me me waiges hin full." "Oho!" cried Terwilliger; "it's a question of wages, is it? The Bangletops were hard up?" "'Ard up? The Baingletops?" laughed the ghost.
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