They got 'im in the bedroom at last, and, arter they
'ad given 'im a drink o' water out o' the wash-hand basin, Ginger and
Peter started to find fault with Sam Small.
"I know wot I'm about," ses Sam; "but, o' course, if you don't want your
share, say so. Wot?"
"Talk sense!" ses Ginger. "We paid our share o' the cab, didn't we?
And more fools us."
"There won't be no share," ses Peter Russet; "but if there is, we're
going to'ave it."
They undressed themselves and got into bed, and Ginger 'adn't been in
his five minutes afore the dog started to get in with 'im. When Ginger
pushed 'im off 'e seemed to think he was having a game with 'im, and,
arter pretending to bite 'im in play, he took the end of the counterpane
in 'is mouth and tried to drag it off.
"Why don't you get to sleep, Ginger?" ses Sam, who was just dropping
off. "'Ave a game with 'im in the morning."
Ginger gave the dog a punch in the chest, and, arter saying a few o' the
things he'd like to do to Sam Small, he cuddled down in 'is bed and they
all went off to sleep. All but the dog, that is. He seemed uneasy in
'is mind, and if 'e woke 'em up once by standing on his 'ind-legs and
putting his fore-paws on their chest to see if they was still alive, he
did arf-a-dozen times.
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