(So then, thought I, at last I knew their names.)
In reply I reached to my belt and drew out quickly—so quickly that they both flinched away—the long handled knife which, usually, I carried with me for cutting down alders or other growth which sometimes entangled my flies as I fished along the stream. “Listen,” said I, “I swear the pirates’ oath. On the point of my blade,” and I touched it with my right forefinger, “I swear that I pondered on two things when you surprised me.”
“Name them!” demanded Jimmy L’Olonnois fiercely.
“First, then,” I answered, “I was wondering what I could use as a cork to my phial, when once I had yonder Anopheles in it——”
“Who’s he?” demanded Jean Lafitte.
“Anopheles? A friend of mine,” I replied; “a mosquito, in short.”
“Jimmy, he’s crazy!” ejaculated Jean Lafitte uneasily.
“Say on, caitiff!” commanded L’Olonnois, ignoring him; “what else?”
“In the second place,” said I—and again I placed my right forefinger on the point of my blade, “I was thinking of Helena.”
“Is she your little girl,” hesitatingly inquired Jimmy L’Olonnois, for the instant forgetting his part.