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"Wha' yo' want heah, anyway?" insisted Sambo, giving the youth a vicious shake. There was blood before the negro's eyes, or he would sooner have recognized his victim. But at last he did see. "So, I'se gwine cotch Mistah Reade himself!" snorted Sambo. "An' Ah reckon I'se gwine foun' de differculty wid my magernetto at de same time! Huh?"
This time the huge negro pumped at the handle of the magneto until he was all but out of breath. Several dozen shoves he had administered before he halted, let go of the magneto and raised himself to his full, majestic height. "Some black witch hab done gwine wish a big hoodoo on me!" grunted the negro suspiciously. "Dis am do fust time dat de magernetto gwine back on me like dis!"
Sambo, watching, knew finally that his quarry was at last able to talk. "Wha' yo' do to mah magernetto?" demanded Sambo. "Guess," breathed Tom. "Oh, take yo' time, boss. Ah got plenty ob dat accommerdation" "What magneto are you talking about?" Reade queried innocently. "Nebber heard ob it befo', eh, boss?" "I've heard of plenty of magnetos, of course," admitted Tom.
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