think afore you speak, Henery. I always do."

Henery Walker got up and tried to speak, but 'e couldn't, and he didn't
get 'is breath back till Bob said it was plain to see that he 'adn't got
a word to say for 'imself. Then he shook 'is fist at Bob and called 'im
a low, thieving, poaching murderer.

"You're not yourself, Henery," ses Bob. "When you come round you'll be
sorry for trying to take away the character of a pore labourin' man with
a ailing wife and a large family. But if you take my advice you won't
say anything more about your wicked ideas; if you do, these pore fellers
won't get a farthing. And you'd better keep quiet about the club mates
for their sakes. Other people might get the same crazy ideas in their
silly 'eads as Henery. Keepers especially."

That was on'y common sense; but, as John Biggs said, it did seem 'ard to
think as 'ow Bob Pretty should be allowed to get off scot-free, and with
Henery Walker's five pounds too. "There's one thing," he ses to Bob;
"you won't 'ave any of these other pore chaps money; and, if they're men,
they ought to make it up to Henery Walker for the money he 'as saved 'em
by finding you out."

"They've got to pay me fust," ses Bob. "I'm a pore man, but I'll stick
up for my rights. As for me shooting 'em, they'd ha' been 'urt a good
deal more if I'd done it--especially Mr. Henery Walker. Why, they're
hardly 'urt at all."

"Don't answer 'im, Henery," ses John Biggs. "You save your breath to go
and tell Sam Jones and the others about it. It'll cheer 'em up."