And say, if they'd been coached by a stage manager they couldn't have
done better. Course, I did catch 'em passin' the wink to each other as
two of 'em marches across the deck holdin' a sack tender between 'em;
but that was when they knew nobody but me could see. While they was
down where Old Hickory had his eye on 'em, they was as solemn as
pallbearers. But I'll bet it wasn't many minutes after they got to
their own quarters before the hearty haw-haws was turned loose in four
different languages.
Meanwhile Auntie and Mr. Ellins has been lookin' on without gettin' the
plot of the piece.
"I must say," Auntie comes out with, "that I see no very subtle
strategy about that performance. Those men must have suspected. What
did they think they were carrying on board so carefully?"
"Sand," says I.
"Huh!" grunts Old Hickory.
"You said you'd stand for it," says I. "And all you owe 'em is about
two apiece for helpin' you save your face."
"My face, eh?" says Old Hickory.
"Someone had to be the goat," says I.
"Why, to be sure," cuts in Auntie, beamin' good-natured again. "And I
think Torchy managed it very cleverly."
"Thanks, Mrs. Hemmingway," says I. "Maybe you'll do as much for me
some time, eh?"
"Why--er--certainly I will," says Auntie, catchin' her breath a little.
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