“Stow my sea-chest!—the wery identical plan I perposes,” promptly replied the captain. “An' why? you naterally axes. Because it's ha'nted, says I.”
“Because it's what?” cried the two young men in chorus. “Haunted?”
“Ay, the abode o' spurts,” continued the captain. “There's a old ancient temple aloft on yon hill, d'ye see, as they calls the 'Ha'nted Pagodas'—which they say as it's a tiger-witch or summat inhabits it, d'ye see—an' shiver my binnacle if a native'll go a-nigh it day or night!”
“Admirable! But what about the cutter, captain?” said Don.
The captain sucked for a moment at his pipe as if seeking to draw a suitable idea therefrom.
“What o' the cutter? you axes,” said he presently. “Why, we'll wrarp her down the crik a bit, d'ye see, an' stow her away out o' sight where the wegitation's thickish-like on the face o' the cliff; copper my bottom if we won't!”
“The stores, of course, must be carried up the hill,” said Jack, entering readily into the captain's plans. “We should set about the job at once.”
“Avast there, lad! What's to perwent the jungle hereabouts a-usin' of its eyes? I axes. The wail o' night, says you. So, when the wail o' night unfurls, as the poic says, why, up the hill they goes.”
This being unanimously agreed to, and Puggles at that moment announcing breakfast, our trio of adventurers adjourned to the cutter.
“Captain,” said Don, after delighting the black boy's heart by a ravenous attack upon the eatables, “like you, I've got an idee—Hullo, you, Pug! What are you grinning at?”