"Better let him go." "Yes, because you don't want him.

I do.

Now, no games." "All right." "Up with the cap, then." Vince lifted the cap, and burst out laughing, for it was like some conjuring trick--the lizard was gone.
"Why, you never caught it!" he said.
"Yes, I did: you saw its tail.

I've got it under my hand now." "You've dropped it," cried Vince.

"Lift up." Mike raised his hand, and there, sure enough, was the lizard's tail, writhing like a worm, and apparently as full of life as its late owner, but, not being endowed with feet, unable to escape.
"Poor little wretch!" said Vince; "how horrid! But he has got away." "Without his tail!" "Yes; but that will soon grow again." "Think so ?" "Why, of course it will: just as a crab's or lobster's claw does." "Hullo, young gentlemen!" said a gruff voice, and a thick-set, elderly man stopped short to look down upon them, his grim, deeply-lined brown face twisted up into a smile as he took off an old sealskin cap and began to softly polish his bald head, which was surrounded by a thick hedge of shaggy grey hair, but paused for a moment to give one spot a rub with his great rough, gnarled knuckles.