"My dear fellow," cried Peterkin, "you're a perfect trump. But why did you not tell us it was so nearly ready? won't we have a'jolly sail to-morrow? eh?"
"Don't talk so much, Peterkin," said Jack; "and, pray, hand me a bit of that pig."
"Certainly, my dear," cried Reterkin, seizing the axe; "what part will you have? a leg, or a wing, or a piece of the breast; which?"
"A hind leg, if you please," answered Jack; "and, pray, be so good as to include the tail."
"With all my heart," said Peterkin, exchanging the axe for his hoop-iron knife, with which he cut off the desired portion. "I'm only too glad, my dear boy, to see that your appetite is so wholesale; and there's no chance whatever of its dwindling down into re-tail again, at least in so far as this pig is concerned. Ralph, lad, why don't you laugh?—eh?" he added, turning suddenly to me with a severe look of inquiry.
"Laugh?" said I; "what at, Peterkin? why should I laugh?"
Both Jack and Peterkin answered this inquiry by themselves laughing so immoderately that I was induced to believe I had missed noticing some good joke, so I begged that it might be explained to me; but as this only produced repeated roars of laughter, I smiled and helped myself to another slice of plantain.
"Well, but," continued Peterkin, "I was talking of a sail to-morrow. Can't we have one, Jack?"
"No," replied Jack, "we can't have a sail, but I hope we shall have a row, as I intend to work hard at the oars this afternoon, and if we can't get them finished by sunset we'll light our candle-nuts, and turn them out of hands before we turn into bed."
