"Jube, you infarnal black scoundrel, you odoriferous
nigger you, what's that you've got there?"

"An apple, massa."

"Take off your cap and put that apple on your head, then
stand sideways by that port-hole, and hold steady, or
you might stand a smart chance to have your wool carded,
that's all."

Then taking a pistol out of the side-pocket of his
mackintosh, he deliberately walked over to the other side
of the deck, and examined his priming.

"Good heavens, Mr. Slick!" said I in great alarm, "what
are you about?"

"I am goin'," he said with the greatest coolness, but at
the same time with equal sternness, "to bore a hole
through that apple, Sir."

"For shame! Sir," I said. "How can you think of such a
thing? Suppose you were to miss your shot, and kill that
unfortunate boy?"

"I won't suppose no such thing, Sir. I can't miss it.
I couldn't miss it if I was to try. Hold your head steady,
Jube--and if I did, it's no great matter. The onsarcumcised
Amalikite ain't worth over three hundred dollars at the