“Hullo yourself! Thought you was gone to Havana.”
“Thought you was to wait for us at Pa’m Island,” said Sellers. “Hullo, Satan, that you? How about your contrac’ with us?”
Satan, who had just come on deck, leaned over the rail and contemplated Sellers. Then he spoke.
“God A’mighty!” said Satan. He stared at Sellers for a moment as one might stare at a prodigy. Then he broke out:
“Contrac’! Holy George! What you say, contrac’? You daar to hook onto my channel plates, and I’ll buzz this fish at y’r head! Shove off! What are you doin’ here, anyway? Why aren’t you at Havana gettin’ the dynamite?”
“Why ain’t you waitin’ for us at Pa’m Island?” logically responded Sellers. “If you want to know why we’re here. I’ll tell you. It was a bet I had with Cark.”
“Which way?”
“I bet him you’d never wait for us at Pa’m Island, but’d light out for here to raise the stuff if we went foolin’ off to Havana. Seems I was right, don’t it?”
The impudence of this made Ratcliffe gasp, but left Satan quite unmoved.
“S’pose we quit lyin’,” said he.