Then he leaned over and shouted in the darky’s ear:
“Foire—foire!”
The result was immediate. Pomp sprang up with a wild yell.
“Massy sakes alibe! Don’ burn dis po’ chile up! Sabe me! Fo’ de Lor’!”
“Hurry up!” shouted Barney from the engine-room. “There’s no toime to lose! Jump into yer boots an’ come on!”
“Jes’ yo’ wait fo’ me, I’ish!” gurgled Pomp, who had not yet got the sticks of slumber out of his head. “I’se gwine to be wif yo’ right away!”
Then the excited darky made a grab for his shoes. Down into one of them went his foot.
The next moment, he went sailing up in a convulsive leap, and struck the partition overhead.
“Golly—massy—whoop la—whoo—I’se done killed! Sabe dis chile!” he yelled, wildly. “Wha’ am de mattah?”
The shoe flew off and Pomp was instantly relieved. He was wide awake now. He knew that he had received a tremendous shock, but he could not tell whether it had struck him in the feet or his head.