as to what it's all about. He just
naturally cuts loose with the rough stuff himself. A skillful squirm
or two, and he gets his elbows loose. Then, when he gets a close-up of
who's tryin' to snare him, he pushes a snappy left in on Rupert's nose.

"Go away, fellow!" remarks Dudley.

"Snake in the grass!" says Rupert.

Then they clinched and begun rollin' over on the deck, clawin' each
other. Course, Mrs. Mumford lets out a few frantic squeals and slumps
in a faint. Professor Leonidas Barr starts wringin' his hands and
groaning "Oh, dear! Oh, dear, dear!" Auntie, she just stands there
gaspin' and tryin' to unlimber her lorgnette.

As for Old Hickory, he watches the proceedings breathless for a second
or so before he can make out what's happenin'. Then he roars:

"Hey, stop 'em, somebody! Stop 'em, I say!"

That listened to me like my cue, and while I've never been strong for
mixin' in a muss, I jumped into this one lively. And between me and
the deck steward haulin' one way, and Meyers and Mr. Ellins pullin' the
other, we finally pries 'em apart, breathin' hard and glarin' menacin'.

"Now, in the name of Mars," demands Old Hickory, "what the sulphuretted
syntax is this all about? Come, Captain Killam, you started this; tell
us why."

"He--he's a traitor, that's why!" pants Rupert, pointin' at Dudley.

"Bah!" says Old Hickory. "Whaddye mean, traitor?"

"He's plotting to send confederates to Nunca Secos Key before we get
there," says Rupert. "Plotting to steal our buried treasure. See! He
was just sending a message to some of his gang."

"Eh!" snorts Mr. Ellins. "A message?"

Meyers fishes it out of his pocket and hands it over.

"Huh!" says Old Hickory, puzzlin' it out. "'Advise how infant is
doing. Send care yacht _Agnes_, off Charleston.' Dudley, what infant
is this?"

Dudley grins sheepish. "Consolidated Munitions," says he.

"Oh!" says Old Hickory. "A war infant, eh? I see." Then he whirls on
Rupert. "And by what idiotic inference, Killam, did you conjure up
this rubbish about a plot?"

Rupert, he turns and stares indignant at me. Old Hickory follows the
accusin' look, and next thing I know I'm in the spot light for fair.

"Hah!" observes Mr. Ellins. "You, eh?"

Now, there's only one rule I got for dealin' with the big boss. I
stick to facts and make 'em snappy.

"Uh-huh," says I. "Me."

"You thought it humorous, I presume," he goes on, "to tell this silly
yarn