"Him say belong berrah bad uncle on smoke-boat, sah. Him say how massa get him?"
Jack related the incident of the night, Nando translating to the boy, who listened gravely, but smiled at the end.
"Why does he smile?" asked Jack.
"He say him uncle no lib for good any more: lost medicine ring; he no fit for do bad fings any more: get cotched ebery time."
"Begorra, sorr, 'tis like me very own uncle Tim, who niver had a day's luck after he lost the lucky sixpence given to 'm by a ginerous kind gentleman for holding a horse in Sackville Street whin he was a bhoy. He had always been unlucky before that, sorr, and sure the lucky sixpence would have made a rich man uv him in time; but he lost it the very same day, sorr, and had no luck at all at all."
"Well," said Mr. Martindale, laughing, "if the loss of this amulet means that the owner will never succeed in any tricks against us, I congratulate you, Jack. Will you wear it yourself?"
"No, uncle; I'll give it to Samba."
But Samba, when the charm was given to him, looked at it seriously for a moment, then his face broke into a beaming smile as he slipped the string about Pat's neck.
"Mbua end' ólótsi!"[[2]] he cried, clapping his hands.
Pat barked with pleasure and licked the boy's face.