“Where are you—why you're in the mud to be sure—and for aught I know, Dashall and all the rest may be in the clouds; what business have you dashing here—we have enough of the Dandies above, without having them below—what have you lost your way, or have you been nibbling in the light, and want to hide yourself—eh?”
“Neither, neither, I can assure you; but I have been led here, and my friend is on before.”
“Oh, well, if that's the case, get up, and I'll hail him, —ey-ya-ap”—cried he, in a voice, which seemed like thunder to our fallen hero, and which was as quickly answered by the well known voice of his Cousin, who in a few minutes was at his elbow.
“What now,” vociferated Tom, “I thought I gave you instructions how to follow, and expected you was just behind me.”
“Why for the matter of that,” cried the unknown, “he was not before you, that's sartin; and he knocked himself down in the mud before ever I spoke to him, that's all I know about it—but he don't seem to understand the navigation of our parts.”
“I don't wonder at that,” replied Tom; “for he was never here before in his life—but there is no harm done, is there?”
“None,” replied Bob; “all's right again now—so proceed.”
“Nay,” replied the unknown, “all's not right yet; for if as how this is your first appearance in the shades below, it is but fair you should come down.”
“Down,” said Bob, “why I have been down—you knock'd me down.”
“Well, never mind, my master, I have set you on your pins again; and besides that, I likes you very well, for you're down as a hammer, and up again like a watch-box—but to my thinking a drap o'somut good would revive you a little bit; and I should like to drink with you—for you ought to pay your footing.”