"Bring your lanthorn, I've ketched a rat or some'at.

Come and see." Archy made a violent struggle to escape, but the man's arms were tight round his waist, he was lifted off the slope, and as he fully realised that, in a wrestling match, no matter how active and strong seventeen may be, it is no match for big, well-set seven-and-thirty.
"No good, youngster," growled the smuggler, as he carried the midshipman down the slope, and held him at the bottom.

"Very good idea, but you see we didn't mean you to get out like that." Feeling that he was exhausting himself for nothing, Archy ceased his struggling, and was held there motionless, as Ram came up with the lanthorn to begin grinning.
"Bring him along, Jemmy," he said.

"His dinner's ready." "Shall I carry him, lad ?" "Look here," cried Archy haughtily.

"You two are, I suppose, quite ignorant of the consequences of keeping me here ?" "What's he talking about, Jemmy ?" said Ram.
"Dunno, lad: something 'bout consequences." "As soon as it is known that you have seized and kept me here, you will both be arrested, and have to suffer a long term of imprisonment, even if you get no worse off." "But suppose no one knows you are here ?" said Ram.
"But it will be known, so I give you both fair warning." "Thank ye," said Ram mockingly.
"And thank ye for me too, my lad." "So now, take my advice, open that door, and set me free.