from the barge. Four nearly naked Arabs dragged Zack up the slippery bank, dripping, muddy, hatless and enraged. The Colonel grabbed him, "Zack, what the devil are you doing?"
Old Reliable took his helmet from the proud boy and carefully smoothed out its ribbons. "Lordee, Cunnel, I come putty nigh tumblin' in dat water. You oughter seed what a big catfish dat wuz! An' he got away—right yonder."
"What is that? What is that?" Lyttleton questioned breathlesly.
"How was it, Zack? All this row?"
"Cunnel, I warn't meddlin' wid nobody—warn't payin' 'em no min'. Jes' settin' dar watchin' dat boy tryin' to ketch a fish. D'rec'ly he made a big holler, an' I seen him raslin' wid a fish longer'n what he wuz. Co'se I couldn't set still. I jumped down de bank an' made one grab at dat fish; an' bein' he was so slippery an' de bank so slippery, I nacherly went right on in. Dese niggers ain't got no sense; dey oughter lemme 'lone—I kin swim; but dey hopped in an' hopped in an' hopped in, an' kep' a hoppin' in. Dey grabbed holt o' my arms an' laigs till I couldn't swim nowhar. Dat's what made de humbug. But, Cunnel, dat sho' was a whoppin' big ole catfish."
Lyttleton said nothing, nothing whatever. He watched those Arab faces and sensed the relaxing
