His emotion appeared so genuine, his service had been so great,
that the object of his adoration felt himself choke up. Of all the
people Kirk had met since leaving home, this one had most occasion
to blame him; yet the boy was in perfect transports of delight at
his delivery.

"Don't carry on so," Kirk laughed, awkwardly.

"Oh, boss, I feared they would h'assassinate you again."

Anthony nodded grimly. "They did."

"Oh, oh!" Allan gave himself over to a shrill frenzy and shook his
clenched fists at the jail in a splendidly tragic attitude.
"Wretches! Murderers! 'Ell-ca-ats!"

"Sh-h! Don't make a scene on the street," Mrs. Cortlandt
cautioned. But the Jamaican would not allow the fine effect of his
rage to be lost. He clashed his white teeth, he rolled his eyes
fearfully, and twisted his black features into the wildest
expressions of ferocity, crying:

"H'Allan will best them for that! Let 'im tear h'out their 'earts
by his fingers. So!" He made an eloquent gesture. "Blood! Blood!"

"Not so loud. A little pianissimo on the blood," smiled Kirk.

"H'Allan would die and kill himself for you," the excited negro
ran on in an excess of loyalty. "Master h'Auntony fought those