Now, Marse Benson, w'at happen to yo' las' night am all in de
co'se ob a lifetime, an' Ah hope you ain't got no bad feelin's. Yo'
suttinly done learn somet'ing new in de way ob tricks. Good-bye, sah, an'
mah compliments to yo', Marse Benson."
With that the guide of the night before swiftly cut the cords at Jack's
wrists, then as swiftly leaped to the seat of the wagon, whipping up the
horse and disappearing in a cloud of dust.
Jack, having now no knife, and the bonds about his ankles being tied with
many hard knots, spent some precious minutes in freeing his feet. At last
he stood up, fire in his eyes.
"Oh, pshaw! There's no sense in trying to run after that rascal and his
wagon," decided the young submarine skipper. "I haven't the slightest idea
what direction he took after he got out of sight, and--oh, gracious! I'm
under orders to be aboard the 'Farnum' at eight this morning. And on Mr.
Farnum's business, at that!"
Clenching his hands vengefully, Jack started along in the direction
pointed out by his late captor. Brisk walking wore some of the edge off
his great wrath. Catching a comprehensive glimpse of himself, Jack could
not keep back a grim laugh.
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