“Mistah, Bob,” cried Jerry in a sudden panic, “Ah cross mah heart Ah ain’t tell no story. Mah ma she don’t ’low me to tell no lies.”
“You wrote old Black Pirate’s directions on a piece of paper?”
“Yas, sah, Mistah Bob.”
“What kind of paper?”
“Jes’ reg’lah papah.”
Without relaxing his face in the least, Bob said:
“Jerry, I’ll give you till Saturday night to remember the directions or find the paper. If you can’t do either, we’ll leave you on the island when we go home.”
“Mistah Bob,” wailed Jerry, “yo’ don’ know how sorry Ah is ’bout dat papah. Mebbe de ole pirate wif de sword done change his min’ an’ sneak up on me and taken back what he tole.”
“Saturday night,” said Bob, sternly.