"
"I hope we do meet at another time!" Jack Benson flared back, wrathily.
The cool insolence of the fellow cut him to the marrow, yet where was the
use of disobeying a rascal flanked by two such willing and capable dogs?
"Now, yo' jes' put dese t'ings on, Marse Benson, ef yo' please, sah,"
mocked the mulatto, tossing down some woefully tattered, nondescript
garments, and, after them, a battered, rimless Derby hat and a pair of
brogans out at the toes.
"I'll be hanged if I'll put on such duds!" quivered Jack.
"Jes' as yo' please, ob co'se, Marse Benson," came the answer, from above.
"But, ef yo' don' put dem t'ings on, yo'll sho'ly hab ter gwine back ter
'Napolis in yo' undahclo's. An' yo's gwine back right away, too, so, ef
yo' wants ter gwine back weahin' ernuff clo'es--"
"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.
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