ah. One ob yo'
men, Mistah Sam Truax, am done took sick, an' he done sent me fo' yo'."

"Truax ill? Why, I saw him a couple of hours ago, and he looked as healthy
as a man could look," Jack replied, in astonishment.

"I reckon, sah, he's mighty po'ly now, sah," replied the mulatto. "He done
gib me money fo' to hiah a cab an' take yo' to him. Will yo' please to
come, sah?"

"Yes," agreed Jack. "Lead the way."

"T'ank yo', sah; t'ank yo', sah. Follow me, sah."

Jack's mulatto guide led him down the street a little way, then around a
corner. Here a rickety old cab with a single horse attached, waited. A
gray old darkey sat on the driver's seat.

"Step right inside, sah. We'll be dere direckly. Marse Truax'll be
powahful glad to see yo', sah."

"See here," demanded Jack, after they had driven several blocks at a good
speed, "Truax hasn't been getting into any drinking scrapes, has he?
Hasn't been getting himself arrested, has he?"

For young Benson had learned, from the night clerk at the hotel, that,
quiet and "dead" as Annapolis appears to the stranger, there are "tough"
places into which a seafaring stranger may find his way.

"No, sah; no, sah," protested the mulatto. "Marse Truax done got sick
right and proper."

"Why, confound it, we're leaving the town behind," cried Jack, a few
moments later, after peering out through the cab window.

"Dat's all right, sah. Dere ain' nuffin' to be 'fraid ob, sah."

"Afraid?" uttered Jack, scornfully, with a side glance at the mulatto. The
submarine boy felt confident that, in a stretch of trouble, he could
thrash this guide of his in very short order.

"Ah might jess well tell yo' wheah we am gwine, sah," volunteered the
mulatto, presently.

"Yes," Benson retorted, drily. "I think you may."

"Marse Truax, sah, he done hab er powah ob trouble, sah, las' wintah, wid
rheumatiz, sah. He 'fraid he gwine cotch it again dis wintah, sah. Now,
sah, dere am some good voodoo doctahs 'roun' Annapolis, so Marse Truax, he
done gwine to see, sah, what er voodoo can promise him fo' his rheumatiz.
I'se a runnah, sah, for de smahtest ole voodoo doctah, sah, in de whole
state ob Maryland."

"Then you took Truax to a voodoo doctor to-night?" demanded Jack, almost
contemptuously.

"Yes, sah; yes, sah."

"I thought Truax had more sense than to go in for such tomfoolery," Jack
Benson retorted, bluntly.

The mulatto launched into a prompt, energetic defense of the voodoo
doctors. Y