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"Have I!" said Dexter sheepishly, as he stared helplessly at his companion. "Have yer? Yes; of course yer have," cried Bob angrily. "Ain't to be trusted for a moment. You're always a-going to sleep. Whatcher been and done with that there boat!" "Done with the boat?" "I haven't done anything with the boat." "Then where is it?" "Fastened up to that old tree." "Oh, is it!" cried Bob derisively.
"But but, say " stammered the boy, glancing from the elegant figure in the chair around the luxurious room and back again, "but you're a a " "Just a poor, disconsolate, lonely er guy!" "What!" cried Spike, staring around him again, "with all this? Oh, yes, you're homeless and starving, you are I don't think!" "Is it a go?" "But say whatcher want to go wi' me for? What's yer game? Put me wise."
He pushed bottle and glass towards Wolverstone. Wolverstone disregarded them. "I'm asking you what ails you?" he bawled. "Rum," said Captain Blood again, and smiled. "Jus' rum. I answer all your queshons. Why donjerr answer mine? Whatcher gonerdo wi' me?" "I've done it," said Wolverstone. "Thank God, ye had the sense to hold your tongue till I came. Are ye sober enough to understand me?"
He imagined a raucous voice, shouting: "C'mon here! Whatcher waitin' fer?" Jimmie bounced on to his machine and turned her loose!
In the body of the dead tree a wood-pecker had chiseled out a round hole. "Hello, yo'se'f" finally drawled Jud "whatcher doin' up thar?" "Why, I am goin' to see if this is a wood-pecker's nes' or a fly-ketcher's." Bonaparte caught his cue at once and ran to the foot of the tree barking viciously, daring the tree-climber to come down. His vicious eyes danced gleefully.
We demanded of "the kid" that he take off his shirt; and after donning his coat and vest, instructed him to throw back his coat-collar, and go down street to some furnishing-goods dealer, and either beg, or buy on credit, a shirt. We began telling him what to say, when he headed us off with: "Oh, whatcher givin' us? I guess I know how ter give 'em der stiff," and started.
"Is there only one tin-mine in Cornwall, Sergeant?" I said. "Only one tin-mine in Cornwall!" cried Briggs in disgust. "Whatcher talking about? Why, the country's full of 'em.
"Whatcher mean, sir, with yer bit o' practice? pouring of physic into me as if I was a cask?" "No; I meant taking off your leg." "Taking off my leg!" cried Dumlow, with so comical a look of disgust on his countenance that I was obliged to laugh; "whatcher want to take off my leg for? Can't you stop the holes up?"
A bright, ringing specimen of a youth's laugh, given out by one who is healthy, strong, and fairly content, allowing for drawbacks, with the utterer's position in life. "Whatcher laughing at?" followed in the querulous tones of one who was to a great extent at the opposite pole of life. "You, Punch." "I don't see nothing to laugh at, sick and weak as I am."
Whatcher yawning for?" "I'm tired and sleepy," said Dexter, as he sat upon the roots of an old tree, three or four yards from the water's edge. "Yah! you're always sleepy," said Bob. "But I had to keep watch while you slept." "So you will have to again." "But that isn't fair," said Dexter, in ill-used tones. "It's your turn to watch now."
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