“‘I tell you, mates,’ ses Ginger, speaking very slow and solemn, ‘there’s a fortin in ’im. I was lookin’ at ’im just now, trying to think who ’e reminded me of. At fust I thought it was that big stuffed monkey we saw at Melbourne, then I suddenly remembered it was a wild man of Borneo I see when I was a kid up in Sunderland. When I say ’e was a ’andsome, good-’arted looking gentleman alongside o’ you, Beauty, do you begin to get my meaning?’ “‘Wot’s the idea, Ginger?’ ses Sam, getting up to lend me and Russet a ’and with ’is nevy. “‘My idea is this,’ ses Ginger; ‘take ’is cloes off ’im and dress ’im up in that there winder-blind, or something o’ the kind; tie ’im up with a bit o’ line, and take ’im round to Ted Reddish in the ’Ighway and sell ’im for a ’undered quid as a wild man of Borneo.’ “‘_Wot_?’ screams Beauty, in an awful voice. ‘Let go, Peter; let go, d’ye hear?’ “‘’Old your noise, Beauty, while your elders is speaking,’ ses ’is uncle, and I could see ’e was struck with the idea. “‘You jest try dressing me up in a winder-blind,’ ses his nevy, half-crying with rage. “Listen to reason, Beauty,’ ses Ginger; ‘you’ll ’ave your share of the tin; it’ll only be for a day or two, and then when we’ve cleared out you can make your escape, and there’ll be twenty-five pounds for each of us.’ “‘’Ow do you make that out, Ginger?’ ses Sam, in a cold voice. “‘Fours into a ’undered,’ ses Ginger. “‘Ho,’ ses Sam. ‘Ho, indeed. I wasn’t aweer that ’e was your nevy, Ginger.’ “‘Share and share alike.’ ses Russet. ‘It’s a very good plan o’ yours, Ginger.’ “Ginger holds ’is ’ead up and looks at ’im ’ard. “‘I thought o’ the plan,’ ’e ses, speaking very slow and deliberate. ‘Sam’s ’is uncle, and ’e’s the wild man. Threes into a ’undered go—’ “‘You needn’t bother your fat ’ead adding up sums, Ginger,’ ses Russet, very polite. ‘I’m going to ’ave my share; else I’ll split to Ted Reddish.’ “None of ’em said a word about me: two of ’em was sitting on my bed; Ginger was using a ’ankerchief o’ mine wot ’e found in the fireplace, and Peter Russet ’ad ’ad a drink out o’ the jug on my washstand, and yet they never even mentioned me. That’s firemen all over, and that’s ’ow it is they get themselves so disliked. “It took ’em best part of an ’our to talk round young Beauty, an’ the langwidge they see fit to use made me thankful to think that the parrots didn’t live to larn it.