“Yeh, sure,” said George. “You know ’em, don’t you? Little men about so high”—with his hands he indicated a span of four or five inches—“in bright yellow shirts.
“Well, as I said, there they were, two of ’em. I laid still for awhile, pretendin’ I was asleep, an’ watched ’em lookin’ at me and then at each other, and noddin’ their heads an’ sayin’: ‘That’s him. That’s the guy.’ Then all of a sudden I made a spring at them. But they got away . . . one hopped over the transom and one oozed out through the keyhole.
“ ‘Well,’ I said to myself, ‘that settles ’em for to-night.’ An’ I got back in bed.
“D’ye know, I hadn’t been there a minute when I looked around and saw, there in the middle of the floor, seven of those Brooklyn Boys, all lookin’ up at me and noddin’ among themselves and sayin’: ‘That’s the guy there—that’s him.’
“Well, I jumped out of bed like a flash but they were too quick for me. They all scooted—under the door, over the door, through the keyhole an’ everywheres.
“Well, I thought I’d sure finished ’em for a while. But I’d no sooner got back in bed when I heard a sound and I looked around and there was sixty Brooklyn Boys! I knew they was up to something because they’d look up at me and then nod among themselves and whisper: ‘That’s him, all right. Uh-huh, that’s him.’
“All this time, y’understand, the ol’ head was clear as a bell. I knew perfectly well what I was doing.
“So I jumped right at them—because that’s the best way to get rid of the Brooklyn Boys, y’know. But they all got away, every single one, and I got back in bed again, thinkin’ I was safe now for sure. Well, d’ye know what?”
“What?” asked somebody.
“Why, I hadn’t but barely got back in bed when I looked down and there on the floor was thirty-five thousand Brooklyn Boys! And this time each one had a little musket over his shoulder. Well, the leader he lines them all up and waved his sword up toward me in the bed and yelled: ‘That’s him, boys! That’s the guy, up there!’