“You old scoundrel,” was Sheldon’s comment. An hour before, he had been chuckling over Joan’s recital of the episode, and here, an hour later, was Telepasse himself come to collect damages.
“Gogoomy,” Sheldon ordered, “what name you walk about here? You get along quarters plenty quick.”
“Me stop,” was the defiant answer.
“White Mary b’long you bang ’m head,” old Telepasse began again. “My word, plenty big fella trouble you no pay.”
“You talk along boys,” Sheldon said, with increasing irritation. “You tell ’m get to hell along beach. Then I talk with you.”
Sheldon felt a slight vibration of the veranda, and knew that Joan had come out and was standing by his side. But he did not dare glance at her. There were too many rifles down below there, and rifles had a way of going off from the hip.
Again the veranda vibrated with her moving weight, and he knew that Joan had gone into the house. A minute later she was back beside him. He had never seen her smoke, and it struck him as peculiar that she should be smoking now. Then he guessed the reason. With a quick glance, he noted the hand at her side, and in it the familiar, paper-wrapped dynamite. He noted, also, the end of fuse, split properly, into which had been inserted the head of a wax match.
“Telepasse, you old reprobate, tell ’m boys clear out along beach. My word, I no gammon along you.”
“Me no gammon,” said the chief. “Me want ’m pay white Mary bang ’m head b’long Gogoomy.”
“I’ll come down there and bang ’m head b’long you,” Sheldon replied, leaning toward the railing as if about to leap over.