“Yes,” he said, with an ugly smile; “mine. Didn’t I tell you before that all the reefs and islands here, and all that’s on them or comes ashore on them’s mine? Someone’s been meddling over yonder and collecting and stacking shells; someone’s been sinking tubs and rotting the oysters to get my pearls. It’s been done by your orders, eh?”
“Yes,” said the doctor, quietly; “I suppose I am to blame for it.”
“Ho! Well, I suppose you did it for me, so I won’t complain. Here, bring out the box.”
“What box?” said the doctor.
“What box?” roared the man, fiercely; “why, the box o’ pearls you’ve got put away. Now don’t you put me out, young fellow, because when I’m put out I’m ugly. Ask Black Jack what I can do when I’m ugly. He can understand and talk English enough to tell you.”
“I tell you this,” began the doctor, but he was stopped by a growl that might have emanated from some savage beast.
“You wait till I’ve done. Coo-ee!”
“Coo-ee!” came in answer, and Black Jack rushed forward in a series of bounds, nulla-nulla in one hand, boomerang in the other.
“Here, Jack, what do I do when I’m ugly?”
“Mumkull—killa fellar,” said the black, grinning as if it were a fine joke. “Mumkull now?” he continued, with his eyes beginning to look wild, as he turned them questioningly on one after the other.