"Why not, my Imp?" "'Cause they're 'fraid I should upset the boat. So I thought I'd come ask you to be a pirate, you know. I'll lend you my best dagger an' one of my pistols. Will you, Uncle Dick?" "Come aboard, shipmate, if you are for Hispaniola, the Tortugas, and the Spanish Main," said I, whereupon he scrambled in, losing a boot overboard in his haste, which necessitated much intricate angling with the boat-hook ere it was recovered. "They're Peter's, you know," he explained as he emptied out the water. "I took them out of the harness-room; a pirate must have boots, you know, but I'm afraid Peter'll swear." "Not a doubt of it when he sees them," I said as we pushed off. "I wish," he began, looking round thoughtfully after a minute or so, "I wish we could get a plank or a yardarm from somewhere." "What for, my Imp?" "Why, don't you remember, pirates always had a plank for people to 'walk,' you know, an' used to 'swing them up to the yard-arm.' "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 himself 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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