"I ain't scared ob dat poor white trash," he declared, "but hit ain't noways nice to stay hyar alone wid a haunt walking 'round on dis island. I jes' naturally can't do dat, Massa Chas."
In vain his three companions argued with him. All the superstitions of his race were aroused. "A spirit was a haunting de island," he declared, "an' hit warn't noways wise to stay alone whar a haunt was.
"If I only had my ole daddy's conjurin' charm, hit might be all right," he said, doubtfully. "Hit dun saved him from a ghost once."
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Charley at last. "I'll let you have my one ghost charm. It will ward off any ghost that ever walked this island."
"Has you got one for sho', Massa Chas? Let's see hit," exclaimed the relieved little darkey.
Charley gravely produced from his pocket a tiny stone, Chinese mannikin, which he had once used as a watch charm and which had found its way into his pockets along with a few other worthless odds and ends. It was grotesquely carved and hideously ugly but Chris viewed it with delight.
"Hit sho' looks like a powerful charm," he declared with the longing for possession.
"I'll guarantee it to protect against any ghost I ever saw," declared Charley, truthfully and solemnly.
"If you could dun spare hit to me, I reckon I wouldn't mind being left behind, Massa Chas," offered the little negro.