In Which Is Further Parley With The Captive Maiden

I looked up to see Peterson, who touched his cap.

"Yes, Peterson?"

"We're on our last drum of gasoline, Mr. Harry," said he. "Where'll we
put in--Baton Rouge?"

"No, we can't do that, Peterson," I answered. "Can't we make it to New
Orleans?"

"Hardly. But they carry gas at most of these landings now--so many
power boats and autos nowadays, you see."

"Very well. We'll pass Bayou Sara and Baton Rouge, and then you can
run in at any landing you like, say twenty miles or so below. Can you
make it that far?"

"Oh, yes, but you see, at Baton Rouge----"

"You may lay to long enough to mail these letters," said I, frowning;
"but the custom of getting the baseball scores is now suspended. And
send John here."

The old man touched his cap again, a trifle puzzled. I wondered if he
recognized Davidson's waistcoat--he asked no more questions.

"John," said I to my Chinaman, "carry this to the ladies;" and handed
him a card on which I had inscribed: "Black Bart's compliments; and he
desires the attendance of the ladies on deck for a parley. At once."

John came back in a few moments and stood on one foot. "She say, she
say, Misal Hally, she say no come."

"Letter have got, John?"

"Lessah have got."

"Take it back. Say, at once."

"Lessah. At wullunce."

"Lessah," he added two moments later. "Catchee lettah, them lady, and
she say, she say, go to hellee!"

"What! What's that, John? She said nothing of the sort!"