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that he might prove to be the very one-legged sailor whom I had
watched for so long at the old Benbow. But one look at the man
before me was enough. I had seen the captain, and Black Dog, and
the blind man, Pew, and I thought I knew what a buccaneer was
like--a very different creature, according to me, from this clean
and pleasant-tempered landlord.

I plucked up courage at once, crossed the threshold, and
walked right up to the man where he stood, propped on his crutch,
talking to a customer.

“Mr. Silver, sir?” I asked, holding out the note.
“Yes, my lad,” said he; “such is my name, to be sure. And who
may you be?” And then as he saw the squire’s letter, he seemed to
me to give something almost like a start.

“Oh!” said he, quite loud, and offering his hand. “I see. You are
our new cabin-boy; pleased I am to see you.”

And he took my hand in his large firm grasp.
Just then one of the customers at the far side rose suddenly and
made for the door. It was close by him, and he was out in the street
in a moment. But his hurry had attracted my notice, and I
recognized him at glance. It was the tallow-faced man, wanting
two fingers, who had come first to the Admiral Benbow.

“Oh,” I cried, “stop him! It’s Black Dog!”
“I don’t care two coppers who he is,” cried Silver. “But he
hasn’t paid his score. Harry, run and catch him.”

One of the others who was nearest the door leaped up and
started in pursuit.

“If he were Admiral Hawke he shall pay his score,” cried Silver;
and then, relinquishing my hand, “Who did you say he was?” he
asked. “Black what?”

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