"He seems to have picked up the trick very nicely," I replied. "What's his name?"
"Satan, sir."
I turned to Ross. "No wonder he wanted to get hold of you," I said, laughing.
Ross stooped down and snapped his fingers. "Come on, Lucifer," he called out coaxingly. "We're all pals here."
The huge animal rose slowly to his feet, and in a very deliberate fashion strolled across to where we were standing.
"'E won't 'urt you now," observed Bascomb. "'E only wants to take stock of yer like."
As if to confirm his statement, Satan came up to each of us in turn, and sniffed enquiringly at the legs of our trousers. His inspection was evidently a success, for with a prodigious yawn he sat down between us, and stared out indifferently at the landscape.
"We've passed all right," said Ross, "but I don't think we've taken honours."
"Well, we shan't be chawed up, anyhow," I returned. "That's something to be grateful for."
"You won't 'ave no more trouble with 'im," put in Bascomb. "'E'll be as friendly as a kitten now 'e understands you belong 'ere." Then, as if anxious to change the conversation, he added quickly: "Will ye come inside straight away, sir, or would you like to take a walk round the island first?"