“Then what you mean is that the crowd have come back, an’ we’re cut off again,” Jenkins replied, in a tone of relief, despite his oft-repeated assertion that he did not believe in what Andy called “cunjurin’.”
“Dat am de fac’.”
“I thought you said the old men had hoodooed her?” Nelse added, and the old darky said, with considerable show of spirit:
“Ob course dey did, else how could dem wuffless trash know where to fin’ her?”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a look at the beach,” Jenkins said, as he took a revolver from his pocket. “Just as likely as not Andy has made a mistake.”
The others pressed forward, but the cook refused to move a single step. He declared that no earthly power could force him to leave the shelter of the trees, and was so vehement in his protestations that even the boys began to think perhaps it would be as well to exercise a little caution.
“Don’t rush right out in the open, for fear those who stole the boat may see you,” Gil said to the mate. “Perhaps the best way would be for us to stay here while you have a look around.”
“All right, keep under cover, an’ I’ll soon be back,” Mr. Jenkins said, as he disappeared from view amid the foliage, and the remainder of the party waited in silence for his return.
They were not to be kept very long in suspense. Five minutes later the mate returned looking very serious, and Nelse asked, eagerly:
“What did you see?”