"I haven't twenty pounds with me," he exclaimed, excitedly, "but I'll pay you the moment we get home, and five pounds over for interest. You know I'm well off, and am also a man of my word."
Bogey did know this, and was not afraid to trust him.
"Well, den, dere de flute," he said; "but don't begin too-too-tooin' till we git good way off, else p'r'aps de gem'l'm wid de red cap hear and send a dog arter de speshal messenger of de Prophet."
Mr. Figgins pledged himself not to blow a note till they were a mile from the spot at least, and on the strength of this promise, Bogey gave him up the instrument.
But no sooner did the excited orphan find it in his possession than he forgot all his promises, and putting the flute to his lips, he at once commenced "The Girl I Left Behind Me," in the most brilliant manner—so brilliant indeed that it reached the ears of the owner inside, and, as Bogey had shrewdly suspected would be the case, the latter began to have some slight suspicions that he had been done out of his flute by an impostor.
Very soon his voice was heard calling his dogs, and almost immediately loud barkings were heard.
"Run, run, Massa Figgins, or de dogs tear yah to pieces," shouted Bogey.
"They may tear me limb from limb," returned the orphan "but they shan't rob me of my flute."
And without taking the instrument from his lips, off he ran playing "Cheer, Boys, Cheer," as he hurried along.
The next moment out rushed several gaunt-looking animals, and gave chase to the musical Figgins, urged on by their mad master, who was following them.