ealthy sleeper at all times, he
slumbered on through the night. Once he awoke, just a trifle chilled.
He heard one of the dogs snoring overhead. Crawling under one of
the blankets, Benson went to sleep again.

"Hey, yo', Marse Benson. It am mawnin'. Time yo' was wakin' up an'
movin' erlong!"

It was the voice of the same mulatto, calling down into the pit. Again
the rays of the lantern illumined the darkness. Both bull-dogs displayed
their ferocious muzzles over the edge of the pit. Jack sat up
cautiously, not caring to attract unfriendly interest from the dogs.

"Ah want yo' to take off all yo' clothes 'cept yo' undahclothes, an'
den Ah'll let down a string fo' yo' to tie 'em to," declared the mulatto,
grinning. "Yo' needn't try ter slip yo' wallet, nor nuffin' outer
mah sight, cause Ah'll be watchin'. Now, git a hurry on, Marse Benson,
or Ah'll done push dem dawgs ober de aidge oh dis flooring."

Jack hesitated only a moment. Then, with a grunt of rage, he began
removing his outer garments. Down came a twine, to the lower end of
which the boy made fast his garments, one after another. His money
and valuables went up in the pockets, for the sharp eyes of the mulatto
could not have been eluded by any amateur slight-of-hand.

"Now, yo' cap an' yo' shoes," directed the grinning monster above.

These, too, Benson passed up at the end of the cord. The mulatto
disappeared, leaving the two dogs still on guard. At last, back came
the light and the yellowish man with it.

"Yo' 'sho' is good picking, Marse Benson," grinned the guide of the
night before. "Yo' has good pin feathers. Ah hope Ah'll suttinly
meet yo' again."

"I hope we do meet at another time!" Jack Benson flared back, wrathily.
The cool insolence of the fellow cut him to the marrow, yet where was
the use of disobeying a rascal flanked by two such willing and
capable dogs?

"Now, yo' jes' put dese t'ings on, Marse Benson, ef yo' please, sah,"
mocked the mulatto, tossing down some woefully tattered, nondescript
garments, and, after them, a battered, rimless Derby hat and a pair
of brogans out at the toes.

"I'll be hanged if I'll put on such duds!" quivered Jack.

"Jes' as yo' please, ob co'se, Marse Benson," came the answer, from
above. "But, ef yo' don' put dem t'ings on, yo'll sho'ly hab ter
gwine back ter 'Napolis in yo' undahelo's. An' yo's gwine back right
away, too, so, ef yo' wants tr gwine back weahin' ernuff clo'es--"

"Oh,