"Aw!" said he, "there's plenty of sugar, ain't there, John?" And that

worthy smiled as he pointed toward an open canister of that dainty.

"But I haven't any pan."

"Yes, you have, too, got a pan. Here's one a-settin' right here in

front of you. Come on now, Auntie. We're goin' to have duck and

terrapin and oysters and everything--all a fellow would want, besides

that, is just fudges."

Helena stood preoccupied and hesitant, hardly hearing what he said, as

I fancy. At once L'Olonnois' attitude changed. Folding his arms, he

turned toward her sternly.

"Woman!" said he, "are you not a captive to our band? Then who gives

orders here? Either you make fudges, or your life's blood stains these

sands!"

"Oh, all right, Jimmy," she said listlessly. "I'll make them, if you

like."

"You'd better," remarked that worthy sententiously. "Of course," he

added, seeking to mollify his victim, over whom he thus domineered,

"it ain't just like it is back home on the stove, but you'll have to

get used to that, because we're going to live here forever. And," he

added, casting a glance of his stern blue eyes upon her, "it is the

part of the captive maid ever to live happily with the chief of the

pirate band."

Whereupon Helena and Jimmy both looked up and saw me standing,

unwilling listener to all that had been said. Helena moved away and

pretended to be busy with the material for her confections.

"Aw, shucks, Black Bart," said Jimmy, turning to me--"ain't that just

like a woman?--They won't never play the game."




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