"Me?" gasped Burt, bewildered by this sudden attack. "Say—"
"Thought you saw it sure," interrupted his chum hurriedly. "Didn't you see Cap'n Mac's arm?"
"No," returned Burt shortly. "Like any other arm, ain't it? I was lookin' at the sick nigger."
"Sick nothin'," retorted Critch. "Cap'n Mac's got a shoulder on him enough to scare a cat! When he shoved the canvas back I could see it all twisted up an' dead white, with a big red scar on the corner o' the shoulder. That nigger wasn't sick—he was scared!"
"Scared!" Burt stared at Critch and then turned to look at the Bantu boy crouched on the locker. "Golly! Mebbe he is! Say, what was the scar like?"
"Looked to me like a cross but I didn't see it well. Come on, we'll ask the coon. He talks French some."
They stopped beside the Bantu. The second black was sitting in the bow at the wheel and had noticed nothing. Critch took the black by the shoulder and gave him a shake, while Burt addressed him in French.
"Wake up, boy! What scared you?"
The Bantu gave one terrified shudder and his eyes were rolling wildly as his head came up "Pongo! L'emblème de Pon—" he began with a frightened gasp and then stopped. His face resumed its normally blank expression and he glanced around quickly.
"What's Pongo?" questioned Burt. "What do you mean by the sign of Pongo?"