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“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.
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.
These, too, Benson passed up at the end of the cord. The mulatto disappeared, leaving the two dogs still on guard. At last, back came the light and the yellowish man with it. “Yo’ sho’ is good picking, Marse Benson,” grinned the guide of the night before. “Yo’ has good pin feathers. Ah hope Ah’ll suttinly meet yo’ again.” “I hope we do meet at another time!” Jack Benson flared back, wrathily.
Listen to yo’! Yo’ wait er minute, an’ Ah’ll show yo’ a light.” Gr-r-r-r! Gr-r-r-r! That sound from overhead was not pleasant. Jack, in the few seconds that were left to him, could only guess as to the cause of the sounds. Then, some fifteen feet over his head, a tiny flame sputtered.
“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.
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