Mass' George Part 43

I caught a word here and there, words full of threats of what he would do to the "ugly 'gator, nex' time." But I was too much upset to shout till I had scrambled into my clothes, when I went sharply along the edge of the pool to where the boy was still shaking his fists, and abusing the reptile which had nearly scared him to death.

But there was another scare ready for Pomp. Indignation was hot within me, and I made my presence known by a smart kick with my bare foot which nearly sent him into the pool again, and a cuff on the side of the head which knocked him back.

"Oh--oh--oh! Don't, Ma.s.s' George," he bellowed, as he dropped on his knees and held up his hands; "don't flog um, Ma.s.s' George. I nebber, nebber do so no more."

"You rascal!" I cried, catching him by the ear. "How came you to play me that trick?"

"On'y for bit ob fun, Ma.s.s' George; on'y for bit ob fun."

"You dog!" I cried, shaking him.

"On'y lil bit o' fun, Ma.s.s' George; got de 'gator's head on to frighten um. Nebber tink no 'gator dah, or not nebber done it."

"No, I suppose not," I cried. "How dare you try to frighten me like that!"

"Say, Ma.s.s' George, you pull dat ear right off."

"Serve you right too, sir. You insolent rascal. But I'll tell my father, and you shall be flogged."

"Oh no, don't do dat ah, Ma.s.s' George. Kick um again and pull um oder ear. Pomp won't holler much. Don't tell de ma.s.sa."

"A blackguardly, cowardly trick with that nasty old alligator's head."

"But, Ma.s.s' George," cried Pomp, suddenly jumping up, "you no business beat kick a boy."

"What, sir!"

"Why, if I no do dat, an de ole 'gator get hold ob de head, he get hold ob you, an where you be now?"

My hand dropped to my side, and I stared in a puzzled way at Pomp, who began to show his white teeth, as it seemed to me that what he said was true, and that if the reptile had not dashed at the boy, and seized the old head thrown at him, he might have seized me and dragged me down.

"Tink I sabe you, Ma.s.s' George, and you hab berry narrow sc.r.a.pe; and den you say you tell de ma.s.sa, and hab me flog."

"Yes," I said, half aloud, "he might have seized me."

"Oh, he hab you, sure 'nuff, Ma.s.s' George, and um be pickin' you bone now down in de mud--iyah--iyah--iyah!" he roared, in a great burst of laughter as he turned round to the water, rested his hands on his knees, and shouted--

"How you like big 'gator head, eh? You find um berry hard? Hope you like um, sah."

He faced round to me again, showing his teeth, and with his eyes twinkling with merriment.

"Don't tell a ma.s.sa," he said, pleadingly.

I was conquered, for it was clear enough to me now that the boy's prank had in all probability saved my life. But I still hesitated as I seized him by both ears now, and gently swayed his head to and fro.

"Dat's right, Ma.s.s' George, pull um hard. I no mine a bit."

"You rascal!" I cried; "will you promise never to do it again?"

"Can't do it again, Ma.s.s' George; ugly great 'gator got de head."

"But will you play me such a trick again?"

"Dunno, Ma.s.s' George. You pull hard bofe ears togedder, and kick um."

"Where are your clothes?" I said, quite disarmed now.

"In de tree, Ma.s.s' George. Hab noder pull."

"No," I said. "Put on your clothes."

Pomp threw himself on the ground and began to howl.

"What's that for, sir?"

"You go tell de capen, and hab poor n.i.g.g.e.r flog. Ah, Ma.s.s' George, you bery cruel young ma.s.sa."

"Get up, Pomp. I'm not going to tell father, but you shouldn't have played me such a trick."

The boy seemed as if made of india-rubber, for he sprang up, ducked down, stood on his head, and then went over and over head over heels three or four times before leaping up with a loud shout.

"Oh, Ma.s.s' George, pull um out; got big forn in um back."

It was quite true, and after I had relieved him of the spine, he ran to the biggest tree near, climbed up into the fork, and descended directly with his clothes, into which he slipped--not a long job, for he was by this time dry, and his garments consisted only of a short-sleeved s.h.i.+rt and a pair of cotton drawers, which came down to mid thigh.

"Now, look here, Ma.s.s' George," he cried, excitedly; "you'n me got to kill dat 'gator."

"Yes," I said, "I must lie in wait and shoot him."

"I tink so. What did he come in young ma.s.s' bath for? I go fetch um gun now."

"No, no," I said. "It would be no use."

"No," said Pomp, thoughtfully, and then showing his teeth; "too busy fryin' um dinner. Oh, Ma.s.s' George, what a bit ob fun!"

Pompey threw himself down, and laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I ten times--hund times more frightum than you, Ma.s.s' George. I tought um catch dis n.i.g.g.e.r for sartum, an' I felt so sorry for you, Ma.s.s'

George, dat I holler out loud."

"Sorry for me?"

"Yes, sah. What you do widout Pomp?"

"Come along," I said, half surlily, half amused at the easy-going, light-hearted way in which the boy could forget the horrible peril in which he had placed himself.

"You berry sorry too, Ma.s.s' George.--I know."