here was
Anamanamona Mike,--he was an Irishman from Hullaboo,--and Barcelona
Boner,--he was a Spanish chap, and boned everything he could lay his
hands on. Strike's real name was Gobang; but we called him Strike,
because he was always asking for more pay. Hare Ware was a poacher and
used to catch Welsh rabbits in a trap; we called him 'Hardware' because
he had so much _steal_ about him. Good joke, wasn't it?"

"Oh, very!" said Davy, laughing.

"Frown Whack was a scowling fellow with a club," continued Sham-Sham.
"My! how he could hit! And Harico and Barico were a couple of bad
Society Islanders. Then there was Wee Wo,--he was a little Chinese chap,
and we used to send him down the chimneys to open front doors for us. He
used to say _that_ sooted him to perfection. Wac--"

At this moment an extraordinary commotion began among the watches. There
was no doubt about it, the pot was boiling, and Sham-Sham, angrily
crying out, "Don't tell _me_ a watched pot never boils!" sprang to his
feet, and, pulling a pair of pistols from his belt, began firing at the
watches, which were now bubbling over the side of the pot and rolling
about the floor; while Davy, who had had quite enough of Sham-Sham by
this time, ran out of the door.

To his great surprise he found himself in a sort of underground passage,
lighted by grated openings overhead; but as he could still hear
Sham-Sham, who now seemed to be firing all his pistols at once, he did
not hesitate, but ran along the passage at the top of his speed.

Presently he came in sight of a figure hurrying toward him with a
lighted candle, and, as it approached, he was perfectly astounded to see
that it was Sham-Sham himself, dressed up in a neat calico frock and a
dimity apron, like a house-keeper, and with a bunch of keys hanging at
his girdle.

[Illustration: "SHAM-SHAM, EXCLAIMING 'DON'T TELL ME A WATCHED POT NEVER
BOILS!' BEGAN FIRING AT THE WATCHES."]

The old man seemed to be greatly agitated, and hurriedly whispering, "We
thought you were _never_ coming, sir!" led the way through the passage
in great haste. Davy noticed that they were now in a sort of tunnel made
of fine grass. The grass had a delightful fragrance, like new-mown hay,
and was neatly wound around the tunnel, like the inside of a
bird's-nest. The next moment they came out into an open space in the
forest, where, to Davy's amazement, the Cockalorum was sitting bolt
upright in an arm-chair, with his head wrapped u