CHAPTER VII: JACK FINDS SOMETHING “NEW,” ALL RIGHT
Jack Benson was on his feet in an instant. An angrier boy it would have been hard to find.
From overhead came the sound of a loud guffaw.
“Oh, you infernal scoundrel!” raged the submarine boy, shaking his fist in the dark.
“W'at am de matter wid yo', w'ite trash?” came the jeering query.
“Let me get my hands on you, and I'll show you!” quivered Benson.
“Yah! 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. This match-end was carried to the wick of the [pg 084] lantern that the yellowish guide had been carrying, and now the light illumined the place into which Jack Benson had fallen.
That place was a square-shaped pit, with boarded sides. Up above, on a shelf of flooring, knelt the late guide, grinning down with a look of infernal glee. On either side of the mulatto stood a heavy-jowled bull-dog. Both brutes peered down, showing their teeth in a way to make a timid man's blood run cold.
“Put those dogs back and come down here,” challenged Jack, shaking his fist. “Come down, and I'll teach you a few things, you rascal!”