"What's the matter, old fellow?" he asked.
"Matter enough," answered Jack, from the depths of the briar patch in which he was completely hidden; "I'm torn to pieces by the briars, and by the time I get to you I shan't have enough skin left on me to serve for patches."
"Nonsense!" said Ned; "shield your face with your arm and break right through. Your clothes are thick and stout."
"Yes," answered Jack, "so they are; but I haven't got them on."
Ned leaped to his feet, for he had been kneeling to arrange the grass for threshing. He remembered how rapidly he and his companions had been reduced in their possessions, until now they were boatless, bootless, hatless, and without regular supplies of food; and so when Jack declared that he had no clothes on, Ned at once imagined that some new calamity had befallen him.
"What!" he exclaimed. "No clothes! Why, we'll be naked savages before another week is out."
"I didn't say I had no clothes," answered Jack, still picking his way carefully through the briars. "I only said I had no clothes on, or at least none to speak of."
"Well, then, you must be out of your head," answered Ned. "Why don't you put them on?"
"Because I can't till we get to camp," and with that Jack made a final leap into the open space and stood before his astonished companion. He presented a queer appearance. For clothing he had on only his drawers and a thin undershirt. These were torn and stained with blood from many scratches. Jack's face, too, was a good deal scratched, but there was a triumphant look in his eyes which made Ned forget to look at the briar wounds. Jack's trowsers, tied at bottom and stuffed full of some heavy material, sat astride his neck, looking for all the world like the lower half of a very fat boy. His shirt, also well filled, was carried in one hand, while his coat, made into a bundle and likewise filled, was held in the other.
"What in the name of common-sense have you been stuffing your clothes with, Jack?" asked Ned in astonishment.