“What’s that?” growled the other.
“Yesterday when ye and t’other scamp was paddling off in the canoe ye stole, ye made a sudden dive overboord and swum fur shore; by yer manner I knowed ye wouldn’t run the risk of taking a bath if ye hadn’t been scared out of what little wits ye had.”
“It would have been the same with yer, if yer’d seen what we did.”
“If ye’ll tell me what ye obsarved, ye may lave whin you choose and I’ll give ye me pledge that Docther Spellman won’t harm ye.”
“All right; I’ll tell yer as soon as I git outside this place.”
“You can’t wait till then; ye must give me the sacret while ye are standing there. If ye don’t I won’t interfare wid the docther working his will.”
An expression of dread passed over the repulsive face and the man actually shivered.
“Wai, whin me and Saxy was going along in the canoe we borrered wid me paddling, I happened to look down into the clear water and my eyes rested upon—the devil himself!”
Mike Murphy was taken aback for the moment by this amazing reply. His first thought was that the hobo was trifling with him, but, if so, his acting could not have been better. Astounding as was his declaration the man believed his own words which conveyed no meaning to the youth.
“Worra now, don’t ye understand it?”