"What do you take me for—a sea-cook?" growled Johnson. "Take off your right shoe if you want to do business with me."
"What for?"
"For the hash. You wouldn't have a pig's foot anywhere else, would you?"
"I—I don't know."
"That's the only place to put it, and it will bring you luck."
In the meantime Needle Johnson had gotten out his case of needles and his coloring matter.
"You are sure it won't hurt?" asked Sam.
"You won't feel a thing. Now, hold perfectly still. If you jerked, or anything, I might make a pig's tail instead of a pig's foot. That would be tough, wouldn't it, matey?"
"It might be tough for you. Ou-u-u-uch!"
Sam Hickey's foot came up with such suddenness that Needle was unable to dodge it. The foot caught Needle fairly on the nose, bowling him over to the deck, while all hands were shrieking with delight over his discomfiture.