“What about the black fellows?” said a voice.
“They are fools enough to be true to the old man.”
“Yes, if we let them.”
“Right,” said the leader. “They alone may be quietened. But, boys, the game is worth playing. There are enough precious pearls in that ship to make us all rich for life. Now, men, the oath.”
Every would-be mutineer stood up, and formed a circle around their leader.
Heaven forbid I should defile my pages by describing that scene. It ill accorded with the beauty of the day, with the sylvan scenery, with those gorgeous banks of flowering cactus, or the sweet trilling of bright-winged tropical birds in the thickets adjoining.
They had just got seated once again, when a merry childish voice was heard, and next moment Teenie herself ran out from the cactus, laughing and shouting.
She rushed straight for Peterson, and flung her arms round his neck.
“Where have you left your maid, darling?” he said.
“Oh, I just runned away from her. I is all alone. Miss Leona is in the town.”