That the Greyhound could ever leave a swell behind her was too much for the credulity of her labor-worn crew.
"Huh! that 's all nice enough, talkin' big that way! But where 's the engine comin' from?" demanded Billie Steiner.
"Where 'd these apples come from?" asked his laconic Captain.
"Off apple-trees," growled Billie. Then a spirit of gentle sarcasm crept over him. "Any of you fellows seen any steam-engines growin' on apple-trees up your way?"
Billie, together with the First Mate, had partaken, somewhat too generously of unripe watermelon, and a dolorous stomach-ache tended to make him rather fretful.
"You ain't fit to be on a pirate ship!" said his worthy Captain.
"I wish I was n't!" retorted Billie.
"So do I," said the First Mate, dejectedly, as he returned from a fruitless inspection of the provision-chest.
"If there was something to eat about a steam-engine, I guess Piggie 'd be barkin' on the other side of the fence!" commented Pud Jones.
