When we left Balto, he had just made a rather disturbing discovery. Let's see how he's getting along with this mysterious amputee...
Seeing him head-on, I made a startling discovery. This dog had only one leg! He leaned on a crutch, and his left leg ended at the hip. One leg! I remembered, Billy Bones' words echoing through my mind like a ghostly moan. Beware a sailor with one leg.
"Y-y-your leg!" I stammered, unable to control my tongue. "Your leg's gone!"
His eyes flashed. "What?!" he roared, whirling around with the fury of a hailstorm. "Alright, who took my leg?! Nobody leaves this tavern until-" he stopped and looked at me with a darkly amused expression. "Say, come to think of it, pup, that leg was taken off by a cannonball out at sea 'bout twenty years ago. Bit late to be looking for it now, don't you think?"
The crowd in the Spy Glass roared with laughter. I looked at the floor. "Sorry," I apologized.
"No need to be sorry," he replied. "I lost that leg in the king's service."
"God bless King George!" chorused the diners.
I couldn't help smiling as I looked at them, but then I noticed a sight that made my blood run cold. In the corner sat a black dog missing two fingers.
"It's Black Dog!" I cried, pointing. "He was with the pirates!"
Silver's face twisted into an expression of rage. "What, in my house?!" he roared.
Black Dog bolted for the door. Silver pointed to a fox close by it. "You, Tom! After him fast. I can't keep up on this timber!"
The fox named Tom ran after Black Dog, and Silver sat down.
"So," he asked gruffly, "Did you come here to talk about my leg, or do you have something important?"
Still a bit uneasy, I swallowed my fear and told him, "The Aurora is ready to sail, sir. Squire Trelawney requests your presence on board at once."
Mr. Silver laughed and clapped me on the shoulder, his mood seeming to brighten instantly. "Well, then, let's not waste his time, eh?" And with that one hand he spun me around and we marched out the door, him stopping by the parrot's perch on the way. The parrot immediately climbed onto his outstretched hand, which he raised to guide the bird to his shoulder. It flapped off in alarm, though, as Tom came barreling back to meet us at the door.
"Sorry, sir," he panted. "I lost him in a crowd. He got away."
"Blast," muttered Silver. "And now he's robbed me to boot. Drank three measures of rum he never paid for. Ah, no matter. The wicked always gets caught in the end, and ye may lay to that. Tom, head on in and have a drink on the house."
"Wait," I asked as the fox went inside. "What about your tavern?"
"Oh, I already have someone to take care of things. Now where- ah, there he is. Me ol' shipmate, Captain Flint."
"C-Captain Flint?" I asked.
What? Captain Flint's in the Tavern? I thought he was dead! Uh, check please!