Part 2 (1/2)
”You did. Now, just you wait till old Big comes and see if he don't say so too.”
”Yah! He'd say anything. What does he know about it?”
”Well, here he comes,” I said.
”Let him come; I don't care.”
”And he has got a coil of rope over his shoulder.”
”Well, what do I care? Any fool might get a ring of rope over his shoulder.”
”Yes, but what for?”
”Oh, I dunno; don't bother!” said Bob surlily.
Meanwhile Bigley Uggleston was coming along at a lumbering trot, and as soon as he was within hearing I shouted to him:
”What are you going to do with that rope?” And now for the first time I noticed that he was carrying a long iron bar balanced in his right hand.
Big did not answer, but came panting on.
”There, I told you so!” cried Bob; ”didn't I say so?”
”I don't care if you did,” I retorted; and just then our companion panted up to us and threw himself down, breathless with his exertions.
”What did you fetch the rope for?” I cried eagerly.
”To”--puff--”throw it over”--puff--”the big stone”--puff--”up atop, same”--puff--”as Bob Chowne said”--puff--”last year.”
”There!” I cried triumphantly, turning on Bob.
I was sorry I had spoken directly after, for Bob tightened his lips and half shut his eyes as he rose slowly to his feet, thrust his hands in his pockets, and began to move off.
”Here, what are you going to do?” I cried.
”Going home.”
”What for?”
”What for? Where's the use o' stopping? You keep on trying to pick a quarrel with a fellow.”
”Why, I don't, Bob. I say, don't go. We're just going to have no end of fun.”
”Yes,” cried Big; ”and I've brought one of my father's net bars to drive in the rock and fasten the rope to, and then no one need hold it.”
”No, I sha'n't stop,” grumbled Bob sourly. ”Where's the use o' stopping with chaps as always want to quarrel?”
”I don't want to quarrel,” I said.
”And I'm sure I don't,” said Big. ”I hate it.”