fist. “Come down, and I’ll teach you a few things, you rascal!”

“Don’ yo’ shake yo’ fist at me, or dem dawgs will sure jump down and
tackle yo’,” grinned the guide, gripping at the collars of the brutes,
which, truly, showed signs of intending to spring below.

Jack fell back, his hands dropping to his sides. Had there been but one
dog, the submarine boy, with all his grit forced to the surface, might
have chosen to face the brute, hoping to despatch it with a well-aimed
kick. But with two dogs, both intent on “getting” him, young Benson knew
that he would stand the fabled chance of a snow-flake on a red-hot stove.

“Dat’s right, gemmun, yo’ keep cool,” observed the mulatto, mockingly.

“You’ve decoyed me—trapped me here with a mess of lies,” flung back
Captain Jack, angrily. “What’s your game?”

“Dis am a free lodgin’ house—ho, ho, ho!” chuckled the late guide. “Ah’s
gwine gib yo’ er place to sleep fo’ de night. Yo’ sho’ly must feel
’bleeged to me—ho, ho, ho!”

“You lied to me about Sam Truax!”

“Yeah! Ah done foun’ dat was de name ob a gemmun in yo’ pahty dat wasn’t
wid yo’. Truax do as well as any odder name—yah! Now, Ah’s gwine leab yo’
heah t’ git a sleep. Ah’ll toss down some blankets. ’Pose yo’se’f and
gwine ter sleep, honey. Don’t try to clim’ up outer dat, or dem dawgs’ll
sho’ly jump down at yo’. Keep quiet, an’ go ter sleep, an’ de dawgs done
lay heah an’ jest watch. But don’ try nuffin’ funny, or de dawgs’ll sho’ly
bring trubble to yo’. Dem is trained dawgs—train’ fo’ dis business ob