“Oh, well, then—!” ground out the submarine boy, savagely enough.

He attired himself in these tattered ends of raiment. Had he not been so
angry he must have roared at sight of his comical self when the dressing
was completed.





CHAPTER VIII: A YOUNG CAPTAIN IN TATTERS


“Now, yo’ll do, Ah reckons.”

With that, the mulatto guide of the night before threw down one end of an
inch rope.

“Ah reckon yo’s sailor ernuff to clim’ dat. Come right erlong, ’less yo’
wants de dawgs ter jump down dar.”

“But they’ll tackle me if I come up,” objected Jack Benson.

“No, dey won’t. Dem dawgs is train’ to dis wo’k. Ah done tole yo’ dat.
Come right erlong. Ah’ll keep my two eyes on dem dawgs.”

It looked like a highly risky bit of business, but Jack told himself that,
now he had been deprived of his valuables, this yellow worthy must be
genuinely anxious to be rid of the victim. So he took hold of the rope and
began to climb. The mulatto and the dogs disappeared from the upper edge