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THE GOLDEN AGE 'What rot are you playing at now? ' he demanded sternly.

Harold flushed up, but stuck to his pig-trough like a man. 'I'm Jason,' he replied defiantly; 'and this is the Argo. The other fellows are here too, only you can't see them; and we're just going through the Hellespont, so don't you come bothering.' And once more he plied the wine-dark sea.

Edward kicked the pig-trough contemptuously. 'Pretty sort of Argo you've got! ' said he.

Harold began to get annoyed. 'I can't help it,' he retorted. 'It's the best sort of Argo I can manage, and it's all right if you only pretend enough. But you never could pretend one bit.'

Edward reflected. 'Look here,' he said presently. 'Why shouldn't we get hold of Farmer Larkin's boat, and go right away up the river in a real Argo, and look for Medea, and the Golden Fleece, and everything? And I'll tell you what, I don't mind your being Jason, as you thought of it first.'

Harold tumbled out of the trough in the

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