"You go on with Matt, Carl," said Dick, "and I'll stay and watch the air ship. I guess there's not much danger now, anyhow. Yamousa has got the negroes under her thumb in handsome style, and Whistler will have his hands so full looking after himself that he won't be able to try any games with the air ship."
Carl was not in love with the idea of going into the house; still, he liked it better than staying out in the open all by himself. A supernatural twist had been given to the course of events and Carl was anything but easy in his mind. When Matt followed Yamousa back toward the hut, Carl took hold of his arm and kept close beside him.
[CHAPTER IV.]
SMOKE PICTURES.
"Sit on ze bench," said Yamousa, when they were all in the house again, pointing to the bench where Matt and Dick had rested themselves a little while before.
Carl made it a point to keep a grip on Matt, and he walked with him to the bench and snuggled up close to his side when they sat down. The Dutch boy's eyes were almost popping from his head. The queer assortment of odds and ends with which the roof and walls were decorated cast over him a baneful spell, and he was beginning to wish that he had stayed with the car.
Yamousa hobbled back and forth, getting together materials for the work she had in prospect. First, she took an earthen jar from one corner of the room and set it down in front of the boys. As she moved across the floor with the jar she sang the Creole song which Matt had already heard, finishing by aiming her finger at Carl and shrieking out the final "boum!"
Carl gave a howl of consternation, his feet went into the air, and he would have tumbled from the bench if Matt had not held him.
"Donnervetter!" gasped Carl huskily. "I dradder be some odder place as here. Vat's der madder mit der olt laty? She gifs me some cholts."