Commodore Junk — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

IN DEADLY PERIL. 77 had told himself that the clumsy fellow could not hit a barn- door, let alone a smaller mark; while Abel seemed to be less agitated, and to be resuming his normal state. They were not twenty yards from the edge of the forest now, the sentry’s back was toward them, and the overseer was vetting to the end of his cigar, and watching the watcher with half-closed eyes, and an amused smile upon his yellow countenance. “Every bullet finds its billet,” he muttered to himself ; and, stretching himself, he was in the act of rising, when the bird, which had been silent, uttered a shrill, chattering cry, as if freshly disturbed, and the soldier shouted ex- citedly— “Theer, sor, I can see it. A big one staling away among the threes. For the sake of all the saints give the wurrud !” ‘‘ Fire, then!” cried the overseer; and the sentry raised his piece to the “ present.” Bart Wrigley had not been at sea from childhood without winning a sailor’s eyes. Dark as the jungle was, and more distant as he stood, it was not so black that he could not make out the object which had taken the sentry’s notice, and at which he took aim. One moment Bart raised his hoe to rush at the man; the next he had brought it down heavily on Abel’s shoulders, sending him forward upon his face, and uttering a cry of rage as he fell. It was almost simultaneous. The cry uttered by Abel Deli and the report of the sentry’s piece seemed to smite the air together ; but Abel’s cry was first, and disarranged the soldier’s aim, his bullet cutting the leaves of the jungle far above the ground. “ Look at that now!” he cried, as he turned sharply to see CONnnicloOol<s =