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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Why!" exclaimed Ed Mason, "I thought your name was Daddles!" "Hear that? hear that?" put in Gregory the Gauger, "that's his Elias!" "No, it's not an alias, in the sense that you mean. It's a nickname. There is no use in going through this again. What I told you in the first place is all true, and we'll prove it to you in the morning. I know, or used to know, a number of people here. I know Mr.
Anyway, I guess they was some of the same crew that chased us in the junk, cos' they was took by a man-of-war in 'bout the same place." "How did they like having their heads cut off?" asked Mr. Daddles. "Well, yer can't tell 'bout a Chinaman. They didn't seem to mind it much. They get used to it, yer see." "Somehow," said Mr. Daddles, "a Chinese pirate doesn't seem like the real thing to me."
"No, there aren't any more of us," said Mr. Daddles, "you've got the whole gang now." "Better wait a second, Eb," said one of the men who was holding Mr. Daddles. He was a fat man, with ears that stuck out the way an elephant's do, when he waves them. "Better wait a second, yer can't tell." "You'll waste your time," said Mr.
No one on the "Hoppergrass" was as much interested in this as the Captain and I. So while we talked with the boy, Ed Mason and Jimmy Toppan walked up town to get some supplies, while Mr. Daddles or Billy Hendricks, rather and the two Kidds went to see Mr. Kidd at his office. We had invited all three of them to come with us and finish the week on the "Hoppergrass."
In doing so we chose wrong, for after we had gone about a mile we met a man in a wagon, who told us that the road led to Dockam's Hole. "We don't want to go to Dockam's Hole," said Mr. Daddles; "back to the cross-roads! I begin to think I'll never see my home and mother again. This treasure-hunting is all it's cracked up to be, and even worse." The man peered out of his wagon.
But we had the tent, one of the fellows likes to sleep on shore, and so we all stayed. Say, this is a little bit of Russia, isn't it? Eb could give the Czar points. This is a new police-station, and he thought it ought not get rusty." "Find your quarters comfortable over there?" asked Mr. Daddles across the corridor. "Great!" said Ed Mason.
Some words passed after his departure, between the bailiff, who piqued himself on being a little of a bully, and Harry Wakefield, who, with generous inconsistency, was now not indisposed to begin a new combat in defence of Robin Oig's reputation, "although he could not use his daddles like an Englishman, as it did not come natural to him."
"I am so much disappointed," said Daddles, turning slowly about, with the pie in one hand, "my poor grandmother has often told me about it, and I did hope to see the weird, old custom practised on its native heath won't you? Or you?" He turned to one after the other of us. "Yer can give me a mejum piece," observed Gregory the Gauger, looking up from his fifth fried egg. Mr.
"You'd better look out for him," Mr. Daddles whispered to Pete, "this may be guile." Then all of us, except Pete, the Chief, and our prisoner, went below, and prepared to turn in. Jimmy Toppan stretched himself out on a bunk and went to sleep in no time at all. Ed Mason and I picked out places for ourselves, while Mr. Daddles made himself comfortable with a couple of pillows under his head.
A breeze had sprung up and the bay was a little choppy, so we splashed and bumped along at no great speed. Mr. Daddles did not pay much attention to the management of his long oar, but got into a discussion with Jimmy about what they would buy with their share of the treasure. Jimmy said his first choice would be a sailing yacht. Next, after that, he thought he should buy a steam-yacht. Mr.
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