Commodore Junk — page 75: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

68 COMMODORE JUNK. shall go off and he'll see. Oh, lor, how I do want to laugh !” He restrained his mirth for a time, and they walked on to the end of the plantation and began their task at the opposite end to where they had left off, when the rate at which their hoes were plied was such that they were not long before they began to near the dense jungle, beyond which lay the man- grove swamp and the sea. ““T daren’t hope, Bart,” whispered Abel, so despondently that his companion, in a wildly excited manner, laughed in his face. “What a lad you are!” he cried. “It’s all right; he’s waiting for us. It’s some sailor chap from Dartmouth, whose ship’s put in at Kingston or Belize. Cheer up, mate!” But it was all a mockery; and when they approached the jungle at last, hoeing more slowly—for, much as they longed to go up at once, they knew that any unusual movement on their part might be interpreted by watchful eyes into an attempt at escape, and bring down upon them a shot—Bart’s voice trembled and sounded hoarsely as he said playfully— “Now, Abel, my lad, ’m going to talk to that there poll parrot.” “Hush!” whispered Abel, agitatedly. “Keep on quietly with your work till we get close, and then call softly.” “Oh, it’s all straight, lad,” whispered back Bart, chopping away and breaking clods, as his fetters clanked more loudly than ever. “ Now, then, Polly! Pretty Polly, are you there?” “Yes, yes, Bart. Abel, dear brother, at last, at last!” came from the jungle. “‘Mary—Polly, my girl!” cried Abel, hoarsely, as he threw down his hoe; and he was running toward the jungle, where |? @ crashing sound was heard, when Bart flung his strong arms across his chest and dashed him to the ground. GComichbooks