Then the negro sat on his captive to make sure that the latter did not escape.
"Take yo' time---ah got plenty," grimaced the black man.
Slowly the beaten-out breath came back to Tom Reade.

Sambo, watching, knew finally that his quarry was at last able to talk.
"Wha' yo' do to mah magernetto ?" demanded Sambo.
"Guess," breathed Tom.
"Oh, take yo' time, boss.

Ah got plenty ob dat accommerdation" "What magneto are you talking about ?" Reade queried innocently.
"Nebber heard ob it befo', eh, boss ?" "I've heard of plenty of magnetos, of course," admitted Tom.

"But what have you to do with one ?" For a brief instant Sambo was almost inclined to believe that Reade did not fully know his secret.

Finally it dawned on the brain of the big black man that he was being hoaxed.
"Ef yo' doan wanter tell, yo' doan hab to, ob co'se," proposed Sambo.