The mate simply grunted by way of reply and, lying close to the ground, he very gingerly and carefully worked his way under the wire and thus escaped his mentioned former unpleasant detention. He then held the lower wire up as high as he could until his chief had wiggled under.
Pete was the only one of the party who was seriously detained, for Jack Cales had slid under as slick as an eel. But Pete's joints were old and rusty and the venomous wire got a clutch on his coat and his pants.
"What's keeping you back?" inquired the Captain, gruffly, as Cales and his comrade did not put in an immediate appearance.
"Pete has got caught, sir," said Jack.
"What are you doing there, you old barnacle?" inquired the Captain as he came back to the fence.
There was a certain odd comradeship between the skipper and the old salt who had been with him since his African days. Both were New Englanders and had come from neighboring homesteads.
"Just resting, sir," replied the captive.
It certainly did have something of that appearance, for Pete had kept a decisive grip on his old black pipe with his stubby teeth and was puffing at it in apparent peace and resignation.
"Want me to git you a piller?" inquired the skipper, sarcastically.
"Thank ye, sir," replied Pete imperturbably.