“Good land ob Beulah! Dis yah galley am voodooed!” yelled Pompey. “No, sah, I don’ wan’ner touch dat money under no circumstantials. Dat am witch money, dat am.”

“Oh, very well,” exclaimed Noddy, spinning the coin in the air and catching it, “I kin use it, Pompey. Gee, it’s great ter be pals wid de witches.”

“Is yo’ all a witch docto’?” asked Pompey with great awe.

“Sure I am. I’m a regular witch hazel from Witchville. Say,” he broke off suddenly, “what’s that growing out of this potato?”

He picked up a rotten one that Raynor had cast aside.

“Ain’t nuffin dat I kin see,” mumbled the colored man, much mystified but refusing to be trapped.

“Well, what d’yer call dis?” and the Bowery lad pulled another dime out of the tuber. “My goodness, Pompey, youse have got money scattered everywhere. Here, take this dime. Youse’ll be a rich guy if youse keeps on.”

Pompey took the dime. He turned it over thoughtfully, bit it and then said:

“Dat am good money fo’ sho. But ah don’ know but what it’ll turn inter rats er mice befo’ long.”

Just at that moment Pompey was summoned aft by the captain’s orders, who wanted to give some directions about his dinner. Noddy turned to Raynor with a grin.

“I’ve got him fooled to the queen’s taste,” he chuckled. “After I’ve played a few more tricks on him I’ll have him eating out’n my hand.”

“But what’s the use of scaring him that way?” asked Raynor.

Noddy stared at him. Then he whistled as if in astonishment and executed a sort of double shuffle.

“Say,” he said in low tone as he concluded, “don’t yer see my game? Dat old coon is the only friend we’ve got on this boat, and when the time comes for a getaway we’ll need him.”

“A getaway?” echoed Raynor, “then you want to escape?”

“Do I, say, kid, how’d you like to be tapped on the head in New York and shanghied on board a craft like dis?”

“You mean you were kidnapped on board?” asked Raynor, staring at the red-headed youth with whom he now felt a bond of sympathy.

“Surest t’ing you know. Write it in 

 Prev. P 30/114 next