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Did you two see?" "Yes, we saw," said Mercer. "I say, he did make you cry chy-ike." "He'd better touch me again." "He will," I said, "if you go hanging about after Polly Hopley." "What, did he tell you that?" "No," I said, "we knew well enough. Bob Hopley didn't say a word. Only called it poaching." Magglin's manner changed directly, and in a snivelling, whining way he began,
A scramble, and Pete disappeared as an angry voice was heard on the other side of the wall. "How dare you, sir? Insolent young scoundrel! Be off with you!" "Don't you hit me!" came in a yelping, snivelling tone. "Don't you hit me! You hit me, and I'll Get out!" There was a dull thud, a yell, and the succession of cries uttered by a dog in pain, generally known as "chy-ike."
"Well, I shall wait till I get so hungry I can't wait any longer, and then I will cry chy-ike till the Frenchies come and pick me up. But, I say, they won't stick a bayonet through me, will they?" "What, through a wounded boy!" said Pen angrily. "No, they are not so bad as that." "Thank ye! I like that, private.
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