As Tim asked this, he refreshed himself with a chew of tobacco.
Jack did not reply.
He had his glance fixed upon the woods.
Taking it for granted that he had aroused the curiosity of the young inventor to fever heat, Tim continued:
"Waal, sir, everybody wuz puzzled cept me. Wot had become o' them lubbers wasn't werry plain. Howsome ever, when they gave up huntin' I made up my mind as I'd locate ther fugitives. Goin' over ter ther cliff I examined ther face of it, an' found a trap door. Openin' it, I entered a cave. Thar they was, armed wi' rifles, pistols, cutlasses and knives, an' ten o' them sprung ter thar door astarn o' me ter cut off my retreat while ther rest aimed thar weapings at me. Did I run? No, sir. Wot did I do? Stood. Wot happened then? Pointin' my finger at 'em I ses, surrender yer swabs, or I'll blow yer brains out! All o' them wuz so skeerd o' my threat they begged fer mercy. An' ther joke of it wuz, I didn't hev no pistol neither. It wuz so dark in ther cave yer couldn't see ther smellin' tackle on yer figger head, an in that gloom they mistook my finger fer a gun. Waal, sir, in less'n two minutes I made prisoners o' ther fifty men, an' marched them out ter my messmates in triumph. Now how wuz that fer a bloodless wictory?"
And with a triumphant grin Tim turned to Jack.
The young inventor made no answer.
"He must be struck dumb with astonishment!" thought Tim.
Then he seized Jack by the arm and shook him.
"Say, my lad, how wuz that fer a wictory?" he asked.