“Well, do you know,” said Anson, in a confidential way, “I don’t think I should make a bad one. I know I should like it better than the work I do now. But look what a big strong fellow this one is. I wonder whether he has any.”
“Half-a-dozen, I daresay,” said West, looking curiously at another stalwart black, who came forward slowly and unwillingly to take the place of the second man, set aside for punishment.
“N–n–no,” said Anson thoughtfully. “I don’t think this one has any.”
“Why?” asked West.
“I can’t say,” replied Anson dreamily. “I only know that I don’t think he has any.” And, as it happened, the most rigid examination failed to discover any of the gems. But, all the same, the culprit was set aside for punishment, two of the watchers present at the examination declaring that they had seen him put his hand to his mouth and swallow something.
The next man, upon being summoned to the stool, came up boldly and displayed a child-like eagerness to prove his innocence, opening his mouth widely and passing his fore-fingers round between gums and cheeks, thrusting his little fingers into his ears, and then bending down and going through the motion of one washing his head.
But he did not wash any gems out of his shock of little nubbly curls.
“No got no dymons, boss,” he cried. “Me go now, boss?”
“No,” said the chief searcher sharply. “Clap that foot of yours upon the stool.”
The black stared at him hard and shook his head.