"I can't find but one pie."
"You can't, hey?" said Simpson; "I smell a rat. Bring the pie out here."
Archie accordingly handed it out, saying, as he did so—
"I'm hungry as blazes; I believe I'll eat a piece of that pie to-night."
"Not in a hurry," said Simpson, as they began to crawl back toward their hammocks; "not in a hurry; I've been in such scrapes as this before, and can't be fooled easy."
"What do you mean?" inquired Frank.
"Why, I mean that this pie was made on purpose for us," said Simpson; "it has got some kind of medicine in it that will make a fellow sick. If we should eat it, they would not be long in finding out who stole the pies."
"I'll tell you what to do with it," said Frank, suddenly; "let's give it to Jenkins, the boatswain's mate; he's a mean fellow, and I shouldn't be sorry to see him sick.'
"That's just what I was going to do with it," said Simpson. "Now, you go back to your hammocks, and I'll carry him the pie."
"As Simpson had taken particular notice of the place where Jenkins was in the habit of slinging his hammock, he had no difficulty whatever in finding it.