“What!” cried the doctor.
“But look out. King’s cruiser will nab you. Sarve you right.”
He moved stiffly, and took two steps towards the door, but stopped and turned sharply upon Rodd, clapped his big hairy hand on the boy’s shoulder, and gripped it fast. “He’s a bad ’un, boy. Don’t go.” Rodd glanced at his uncle, who was staring with bewilderment, while he, who during the last few minutes had seen clearly what their visitor meant, burst into another roar of laughter and gripped the skipper by the jacket, as he turned to the doctor.
“No, no,” he stuttered. “No, no; don’t go, captain! Uncle Paul, can’t you see? He thinks you are going to the West Coast to buy slaves!”
“Well!” cried Uncle Paul, his voice sounding like ten ejaculations squeezed into one—“Well!”
Chapter Ten.
At Cross Purposes.
Captain Chubb stood looking back at Uncle Paul, then at Rodd, then back at Uncle Paul.