114 SIMPSON, MYSELF AND THE PERSONAGE. 



" Hi there, boy ! You in there, you rascal ? 

 Come, turn to ! None o' your sogering ! Do 

 you hear the news ? Tumble up, lively ! " It 

 was the old man ! 



I shouted back, " Spanish folks in here. Don't 

 known English. Can't tell 'em to open the 

 door ! " 



" Open it yourself, then, you leatherhead ! " 

 That was unmistakably the mate's voice. 



Now my preservers, hearing English spoken 

 and realizing that the men on the doorstep must 

 be acquaintances of mine, or at all events no 

 enemies, else I should have been afraid to answer, 

 opened the door. 



In strode the two burly men. The captain 

 never looked so big, the mate was never so surly. 



" Well," the old man observed in a tone of 

 infinite disgust, " here you are with your head 

 broke ! " 



My head was not exactly " broke," though it 

 was by no means attractively embellished by my 

 recent battle with the Personage. I had a gash 

 about an inch long over my left eye, and that 

 luckless optic was completely closed by the black- 

 ened swelling. 



The old man roared at me with such thunderous 

 ferocity that Inez was frightened. She seemed to 



