"You don't understand, Ginger," said Sam, in a soft voice; "it ain't
often a chap gets the chance o' making a bit o' money these 'ard times."

"So we've put all our money on Bill Lumm," ses Peter. "It's the safest
and easiest way o' making money I ever 'eard of. You see, we know you're
not a prize-fighter and the others don't."

Pore Ginger looked at 'em, and then 'e called 'em all the names he could
lay 'is tongue to, but, with the idea o' the money they was going make,
they didn't mind a bit. They let him 'ave 'is say, and that night they
brought 'ome two other sailormen wot 'ad bet agin Ginger to share their
room, and, though they 'ad bet agin 'im, they was so fond of 'im that it
was evident that they wasn't going to leave 'im till the fight was over.

Ginger gave up then, and at twelve o'clock next day they started off to
find the place. Mr. Webson, the landlord of the Jolly Pilots, a short,
fat man o' fifty, wot 'ad spoke to Ginger once or twice, went with 'em,
and all the way to the station he kept saying wot a jolly spot it was for
that sort o' thing. Perfickly private; nice soft green grass to be
knocked down on, and larks up in the air singing away as if they'd never
leave off.

They took the train to Homerton, and, being a slack time o' the day, the
porters was surprised to see wot a lot o' people was travelling by it.
So was Ginger. There was the landlords of 'arf the public-'ouses in
Wapping, all smoking big cigars; two dock policemen in plain clothes, wot
'ad got the arternoon off--one with a raging toothache and the other with
a baby wot wasn't expected to last the day out. They was as full o' fun
as kittens, and the landlord o' the Jolly Pilots pointed out to Ginger