We waited nearly an hour for Narcissus, but he did not return. We got ashore and went up to the general store, where he was to do his shopping, but he had not been seen. Further search around the village was fruitless. Thinking that he might have returned to the boat by another route, we retraced our steps, and found the can in some weeds near the bend where we last saw him.
With sudden inspiration, Sipes ran to the boat. He dived into the cabin, and we heard an angry yell.
“Holy Mike! He’s frisked the jools!”
We hurried on board. The tin box had disappeared.
“We put ’em between them boards back o’ that little cuddy-hole. He swiped ’em an’ ’e’s lit out! Hold on a minute!” cried the distracted old man, as, with a glimmer of hope on his pale face, he again ducked into the cabin.
“Gosh! We’r’ saved!” he exclaimed, as he emerged with the big pearl. “Bully fer us! I stuck this in a crack with some paper, an’ ’e missed it.”
Saunders had been too much overcome by the sudden misfortune to say much. He appeared crushed. His face lighted up when it was found that the disaster was not complete.
The question now was to catch Narcissus Jackson. He had had about two hours’ start.
“Gimme that gun!” commanded Sipes. “I’ll pot that nigger, if I git ’im inside o’ fifty yards. This gun ain’t loaded with no jools like that Injun’s was!”
Adjectives are weapons of temperament. Sipes had a plentiful supply of both. The past, present, and future of Narcissus Jackson was completely covered by a torrent of scarifying invective.