"The devil ray, or manta as it is often called, will give you a run for your money," said Colin, "and after all we can cut the line."
"We'll not cut any line," was the response. "Now, Pete, get after him."
But the negro fairly blubbered in terror.
"Lordy, lordy," he cried, "an' what yo' goin' t' do to a po' ol' niggeh. Ah'll do an'thin' yo' say, Ah'll tell yo' de troof about de sponge fahms, an'thin', onl' don' go afteh dat vampa."
"You'll tell me the truth about the sponge farms, eh?" the prospective buyer remarked sternly. "So you were trying to put up a crooked deal. I'll attend to you when we get ashore. Now
you row after that 'vampa,' as you call it, and as quick as you know how."
The negro was about to refuse, but he did not dare.
"Oh, Lordy, boss," he cried, "don' go any neaheh. Yas, sah, yas, sah," he added as he saw the yachtsman make a move towards him, "yas, sah, Ah'll row. But we all gwine to be smoddehed alive. Ah jes' knows it."
Again, close at hand, came the swish and the dull 'boom,' and the negro shivered. Colin was conscious that his heart was pounding a little and he caught himself wishing that it were the middle of the day instead of evening. Then out of the water not ten feet from the boat a dark witch-like specter swooped into the sky, black, horned, with bat-like wings and a long naked tail like a gigantic rat.
Pete gave a squeal of fright.