"Couldn't do it no how, young massa," he said. "Massa Kirby would kill me."
"He'd think I got away when you were asleep, Pompey. Come, I'll show you two or three more tunes on the instrument, and you can learn others yourself."
"I don't dare to, young massa," said Pompey, but there was a suspicion of indecision in his voice.
"Very well, then, give me back the harmonica. I will never play any more upon it."
"Oh, young massa!"
"I mean what I say, Pompey"—and Dean put the harmonica in his pocket.
Pompey eyed him with a troubled look. He was evidently weighing the matter in his mind.
"If I thought Massa Kirby wouldn't kill me," he said reflectively.
Dean upon this redoubled his persuasions. He played another tune on the harmonica—"Sweet Home"—with variations, and this completed the conquest of his sable custodian.
"I'll do it, young massa," said Pompey, hoarsely. "Give me the harmonicum, and I'll take the risk."