So, with difficulty, restraining their laughter, the two lads proceeded to cover the old sailor with great bunches of the strong, long, Spanish moss, tying it securely to him with pieces of the raveled-out rope.
When they had finished, he was a queer and wonderful creature.
The sight was too much for Chris. The little darkey lay on the grass and rolled with laughter.
"Massa Cap, Massa Cap," he gasped, "you look jes' like a great big Teddy Bear."
The old sailor grinned feebly at the three, mirth-convulsed boys.
"I reckon I do look some funny," he admitted, "but I don't care. It's comfortable, and a heap sight decenter than nothing."
A look of anxiety came to his face and he winced visibly.
"What's the matter?" asked Charley. "No pins sticking in you?"
The captain scratched vigorously. "Thar's ants in that pesky moss," he declared, at which announcement the three boys let out a roar of laughter that made the woods ring.