the surface.

“Well, of all the slick man-traps!” he gasped. “I never heard of anything
more clever. Nor was there ever a bigger idiot than I, to walk stupidly
into this same trap! What’s the game, I wonder? Robbery, it must be. And I
have a watch, some other little valuables and nearly a hundred and fifty
dollars in money on me. Oh, I’m the sleek, fat goose for plucking!”

Lying there, in enforced stillness, Jack Benson, after an hour or so,
actually fell asleep. A good, healthy sleeper at all times, he slumbered
on through the night. Once he awoke, just a trifle chilled. He heard one
of the dogs snoring overhead. Crawling under one of the blankets, Benson
went to sleep again.

“Hey, yo’, Marse Benson. It am mawnin’. Time yo’ was wakin’ up an’ movin’
erlong!”

It was the voice of the same mulatto, calling down into the pit. Again the
rays of the lantern illumined the darkness. Both bull-dogs displayed their
ferocious muzzles over the edge of the pit. Jack sat up cautiously, not
caring to attract unfriendly interest from the dogs.

“Ah want yo’ to take off all yo’ clothes ’cept yo’ undahclothes, an’ den
Ah’ll let down a string fo’ yo’ to tie ’em to,” declared the mulatto,
grinning. “Yo’ needn’t try ter slip yo’ wallet, nor nuffin’ outer mah
sight, cause Ah’ll be watchin’. Now, git a hurry on, Marse Benson, or
Ah’ll done push dem dawgs ober de aidge ob dis flooring.”

Jack hesitated only a moment. Then, with a grunt of rage, he began
removing his outer garments. Down came a twine, to the lower end of which