“I’m cotched! He’s got me in de net! I’m a gone coon! Leggo! I ain’t done nuffin! It were Sam Johnson as done it! Please, good Mr. Man let me go!”
He struggled to get the net off his head, and the professor endeavored to assist him, but their efforts only seemed to make the mosquito-fabric cling the tighter, until the yells of the colored man brought several guests out into the corridor on the run, thinking the hotel might be afire.
“Help ’em, Ned!” called Jerry, who was laughing so he could not go to the aid of the two.
“Help ’em yourself,” responded Ned, almost doubled up with mirth at the sight of the struggling figures.
At length the two managed to extricate themselves, and the professor, taking his net from the colored man’s head, carefully examined it for possible rents.
“Did I hurt you?” asked the scientist.
“No, I cain’t ’zactly say as how ’yo hurted me,” the colored man replied with a grin, “but yo’ done mos’ scaired me t’ def!”
“I’m very sorry,” went on Mr. Snodgrass. “I was after a bug!”
“I thought yo’ were after me!” and the bearer of the ice water gazed at the broken pitcher.