searching and
     “Where is it? Where iss it?” Bilbo heard him crying. “Losst it is, my
precious, lost, lost! Curse us and crush us, my precious is lost!”
“What’s the matter?” Bilbo called. “What have you lost?” “It mustn’t
ask us,” shrieked Gollum. “Not its business, no, gollum! It’s losst,
gollum, gollum, gollum.”
     “Well, so am I,” cried Bilbo, “and I want to get unlost. And I won the
game, and you promised. So come along! Come and let me out, and then
go on with your looking!”
     Utterly miserable as Gollum sounded, Bilbo could not find much pity in
his heart, and he had a feeling that anything Gollum wanted so much
could hardly be something good.
     “Come along!” he shouted.
     “No, not yet, precious!” Gollum answered. “We must search for it, it’s
lost, gollum.”
     
     “Never guessed!” said Gollum. Then suddenly out of the gloom came a
sharp hiss. “What has it got in its pocketses? Tell us that. It must
tell first.” As far as Bilbo knew, there was no particular reason why
he should not tell. Gollum’s mind had jumped to a guess quicker than