'
"You seem to know all about it," I said as I pulled slowly down
stream.
"Oh, yes, I read it all in Scarlet Sam, the Scourge of the South
Seas. Scarlet Sam was fine. He used to stride up and down the
quarterdeck an' flourish his cutlass, an' his eyes would roll,
an' he'd foam at the mouth, an - "
"Knock everybody into 'the lee scuppers,'" I put in.
"Yes," cried the Imp in a tone of unfeigned surprise. "How did
you know that, Uncle Dick?"
"Once upon a time," I said, as I swung lazily at the sculls, "I was
a boy myself, and read a lot about a gentleman named 'Beetle-browed
Ben.' I tell you. Imp, he was a terror for foaming and stamping,
if you like, and used to kill three or four people every morning,
just to get an appetite for breakfast." The Imp regarded me with
round eyes.
"How fine!" he breathed, hugging himself in an ecstasy.
"It was," I nodded: "and then he was a very wonderful man in other
ways. You see, he was always getting himse1f shot through the head,
or run through the body, but it never hurt Beetle-browed Ben - not
a bit of it.
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