Thlow tin-kettle after." "But what for?
What were you doing ?" "Doing?
fass 'sleep, dleam 'bout big fly come and bite leg.

Jump up and lun.

Then thlow kettle after." "Here, let's look," I said; for as he shook his head there was the same hollow sound again, just like that made by a tin sheep-bell.
"Why, they've tied it to you," I said sharply.
"Tie to Ching flock?
Don't matter.

Not bess blue silkee." "Here, let me see," I cried.

"Turn round." He turned sharply, and something banged against the bulwark.
"What a shame!" I cried.