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"Phe-ew!" growled the man, and he began scratching the thick, dark curls, almost negro-like, that covered his head and hung over his broad brown temples. "Why, I never thought anything like that, Master Waller. Why, I wouldn't go and see a man shot nor hung for love or money!
Flint picked him up between thumb and fore-finger, and as gingerly dropped him back into the breeding-cage. He squared his shoulders, wiped his brow, and drew a long whistling breath. "Phe-ew! It took all my nerve to do it!" said he, frankly. "I felt for a minute as if a strong-arm cop'd chased me up an alley and pulled his gun on me.
The captain?" cried the sailor, in a startled tone of voice. "Phe-ew!" he whistled. "I forgot all about him. I say, my lad, he won't like to see you this how." "No," said Aleck, dismally. "Arn't got no aunts or relations as you could go and see for a fortnit, have you?" "No, Tom; I have no relatives but Uncle Donne." "That's a pity, sir. Well, I dunno what you'd better do."
Then he said: "Phe-ew!" put the handkerchief back, and nursed his hat upon his knees, as he stared across the rough table, upon which coffee and breakfast-cups were standing, at the sun-burned gentleman who looked something like a modern yachtsman, though it was a good seventy years ago.
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