Fearing My Two Agents Would Fight And Damage
Each Other, So That Neither Would Be Any Good For Me, I Firmly Said,
"Have You Got Any Rum?" Agent Number One Looked Crestfallen,
Holty's Triumphant.
"Rum, fur sure," says he; so I gave him a five-
franc piece, which he regarded with great pleasure, and putting it
in his mouth, he legged it like a lamplighter away to his store on
the hill.
"Have you any tobacco?" said I to Agent number one. He
brightened, "Plenty tobacco, plenty cloth," said he; so I told him
to give me out twenty heads. I gave my men two heads apiece. I
told them rum was coming, and ordered them to take the loads on to
Hatton and Cookson's Agent's hut and then to go and buy chop and
make themselves comfortable. They highly approved of this plan, and
grunted assent ecstatically; and just as the loads were stowed
Holty's anatomy hove in sight with a bottle of rum under each arm,
and one in each hand; while behind him came an acolyte, a fat, small
boy, panting and puffing and doing his level best to keep up with
his long-legged flying master. I gave my men some and put the rest
in with my goods, and explained that I belonged to Hatton and
Cookson's (it's the proper thing to belong to somebody), and that
therefore I must take up my quarters at their Store; but Holty's
energetic agent hung about me like a vulture in hopes of getting
more five franc-piece pickings.
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