“Guess he thought Mr. House wasn’t doing his best,” says I, “so he came up to take charge.”
“Must be a pretty big treasure to get a multi-millionaire like this Dunn all excited over it,” says Catty.
“Bet there’s barrels and boxes and crates of gold and jewels,” says I.
Catty looked kind of discouraged. “Must be,” says he. “And what I want to know,” he says, “is, how in the world you and me could carry off all that weight of stuff even if we found it?”
“Anyhow,” says he, “we might grab onto a boat load of it. You know a dinghy full of diamonds would be worth a lot money. Better than nothing.”
“Geewhillikins,” says I, “just think of it. A boat load of diamonds, and every diamond worth a hundred dollars. Why, you could get ’most a million diamonds in a boat.”
“Let’s not count ’em up till we get ’em,” says he.
“And rubies and emeralds,” says I. “Whoop!”
“And a man guarding them, and a yacht with twenty more men on it just come to help guard it—and nobody but two kids to fight them all. Looks kind of sickly, don’t it?”
“Just the same,” says he, “I’m going to gaffle onto at least a hatful of those diamonds and pearls and emeralds in spite of all the guards and yachts Jonas P. Dunn can fetch here.”
“Me, too,” says I, “but how’ll we go at it.”
“I dunno,” says he, “but I’m going to sit down and think one out.”
“Bully for you,” says I, kind of sarcastic, “think out a couple, one for me.”
Naboth’s voice came back to where we sat, and it was loud, and high-pitched and excited. “Rameses III,” says he, “you done it. You done it as sure as if you’d fed him pizen.”
“You give Mr. Topper these here appendy-siduses he’s got.”
“I never,” says Rameses III. “In the fust place, I never had none, and what a feller hain’t got, he can’t give.”
“I wouldn’t know how to make them things he’s sick with.”
“You don’t have to know how to make ’em.”
“Now you talk sense, Naboth. Stick to facts. Don’t git me riled. Take warnin’ now—don’t git me riled.”
“Listen here,” says Naboth, “what is this here appendy-sidus, anyhow. D’you know?”
“It resembles stummick ache, only it hain’t stummick ache, but worse and lots more of it. It’s kind of related to stummick ache, sort of like a cousin by marriage, or some sich relationship, and the place where it hurts most is right under your belt. If you don’t git it cut out and pickled in alcohol, why, you die. That’s what that there appendy-siduses is. Clear to you now, hain’t it?”