“Comfortable!” says the man. “What I want to know is what you mean by this, anyhow? What you mean by shovin’ my boat off? What for do you want to shut me up on this island?” “Well,” says Mark, “we g-g-got important b-business goin’ on, and it looked like you might muss it up. You can’t muss up much so long as you’re right here, and right here you’re goin’ to stay, if we can m-make you, till our business is done.” “Then Piggins is here?” says the man. “Maybe so and maybe not. That’s s-somethin’ you’ll have to find out for yourself.” “I got it in mind to make all of you kids find out what it feels like to get a blamed good thrashin’,” says the man, getting madder than ever. “’Twouldn’t f-fetch your boat back,” says Mark. “How long you calc’late on keepin’ me?” “Hain’t got no idee—plenty long, though.” “How do we eat?” says the man. Mark looked at him and then at me, and then he winked. “You’ll have to l-look out for your own eatin’,” says he. “We don’t undertake to pervide food.... Now, fellers, this gentleman most l-likely wants to set down and f-figger. Let’s walk away and leave him be and not disturb him. Maybe he’ll want to move around himself and look for George Piggins.” The man sat down and looked kind of miserable. We walked off. “We got to keep him and George apart,” says Mark, “till I’m ready.” “Ready for what?” says I. “Oh,” says he, “I got a sort of a kind of a s-scheme.” He said it with that kind of a way he has that means he ain’t going to tell and there’s no use to ask him. All of us knew him well enough not to waste breath on questions. So we went along till we came to George Piggins, still gaping at the money Mark gave him and staring every little while at the shore as if he had something on his mind and didn’t know just exactly what. “Man just l-landed,” says Mark. “Who?” says George. “Detective feller,” says Mark. “Eh?” says George. “What’s that? What you tryin’ to tell a feller? What’s a detective a-doin’ on this island, I want to know? Eh? Say.” “He let on he was interested in hogs,” says Mark. “Sufferin’ boozle-jams!” says George. “S’pose he’s a-lookin’ for me? Eh? Got any idea I’m the feller he’s detectivin’ around after?” “He asked if we’d seen you,” says Mark. “What you tell him? You didn’t go and give me away, did you? You didn’t tell on pore old George Piggins?” “I should s-s-say not. Why, hain’t we here to pertect you from the consequences of that hog? Hain’t we agreed you should go free and clear of that, and be allowed to come back home jest l-l-like there wa’n’t never no hog at all? Sure we have. And we’re a-goin’ to. And now we’re warnin’ you about that f-feller, and advisin’ you to keep out of his way.” “Thankee,” says George. “I’ll remember it of you, I will. I hain’t calc’latin’ to fergit sich friends as you be, and I’m a-goin’ to hide me. I know a place and that there detective kin look for me till he turns pink all the way from his chin to his ears before he finds me.”