Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. They were headed by an athleticlooking, swarthy-featured man, who was armed with a cutlass, which he waved over his head to cheer on his companions. From long experience with both races he had acquired definitions, but none snugly applied to this girl. On all hands Jack was cheered, and Jonathan hooted. The hurricane had now reached its climax. At once divining the meaning of this ingenious device, he applied his mouth to the tube, and sucked away, while the person outside poured spirit into the bowl. Yield, villain!" "Never!" replied Jonathan.
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