Jack Wright and His Electric Stage | Page 9

a rope; then I jumped
overboard right in ther midst o' them crocodiles. Afore yer could count
ten I made a slipnoose fast about ther necks o' forty o' them animiles,
got back aboard the frigate an' tied ther other and o' ther line ter the
capstan. Then I took a spear an' cllmbin' out on ther bowsprit I began
ter jab 'em an' away they went, pullin' ther frigate along like greased
lightning---"
"Say, Tim---"
"I ain't done yet---"
"But I tell you---"
"Awarst thar! As I wuz asayin' along we went like fury, ther simoon
chasing arter us. It wuz a terrible race an' I yelled and poked at them ere
crocodiles like mad.
"In a few moments we wuz makin' eighty knots an hour, an' I noticed as
we wuz pullin' away from that ere storm werry stiddy, ontil at last we
lef it astarn, an' ther ship wuz saved. You'd oughter seed how glad my
poor messmates wuz when I finally cut ther crocodiles loose an' we
sailed in clear water---"
"It must have been great," dryly said Timberlake.
"Ay now," proudly replied Tim. "That it wuz, sir."
"Say, Tim, that would be a splendid yarn only for one thing."
"An' wot might that be, Mr. Timberlake?"
"Crocodiles can't live in salt water, and as the Red Sea is exceedingly

briny, I don't understand how the ones you captured could have been
there and submitted to being harnessed as you did it, without offering
to make a meal of you."
A rather startled look crossed Tim's face.
He thoughtfully rubbed his big red nose and gasped:
"Gee whiz!"
The fact was Tim was an awful liar.
He seldom spun a yarn without being tripped up.
That is the trouble with most liars; they generally make an error in their
stories which won't stand analysis.
"Will you be kind enough to explain how those saurians happened to be
in that sea in such a docile frame of mind, Tim?" asked Timberlake,
with a provoking smile of derision.
"No, sir," flatly answered the old sailor, who was utterly at a loss how
to clear himself. "The fact are, sir, as I never gives explanations e' my
yarns, an'---"
But here he was interrupted.
By the wild shriek of an accordeon.
In the hands of Fritz.
The Dutchmen hated Tim's yarns.
And Tim hated Fritz's music with equal fervor.
Consequently, while the yarn caused the fat fellow to strike up his
frantic melody, the music grated on Tim's ears so that a wild desire
entered his soul to pulverize the Dutchman.

"Hey!" he howled, shaking his fist at Fritz. "Belay thar!"
"Shiminey Christmas, vos yer tink I vould listen ter some more ohf
dem lies mitoud dot I trownd it oud alretty?" fiercely bellowed Fritz,
working away at the wheezy box.
"Ye kin dash my toplights if I don't wipe up ther floor wi' yer then!"
yelled Tim, and he made a rush for Fritz.
"Shtood beck!" roared the Dutchman. "Stob a leedle, or py yiminey I
soak yer in der chaw mit dot moosic!"
He brandished his accordeon in the air by the strap as he spoke, and as
it opened out and his fingers were pressing on several of the keys, it let
out a shrieking groan horrible to hear.
Tim did not pause.
His spunk was up.
As soon as he reached Fritz be gave a whoop and jumped on him.
The next moment they were tangled up in a heap on the floor, and a
terrific struggle began between them, the sailor trying to put his
wooden leg through the accordeon, and the Dutchmen industriously
striving to gouge Tim's glass eye out.
In the midst of the scuffle, a monkey and parrot came flying in from the
next room, howling like fiends.
The parrot was named Bismarck.
Whiskers was the name of the monkey.
Fritz owned the bird, and Tim claimed the animal.
They had once been captured in Africa by their masters.
Since then the sailor and Dutchman invariably took their pets off on the

expeditions they made in Jack's inventions.
Between Bismarck and Whiskers there existed a deep rooted enemity,
which always culminated in pitched battles.
The monkey had been chasing the parrot when Tim and Fritz got
fighting, and as these two creatures possessed more than ordinary
intelligence, they at once determined to take sides with their respective
owners.
"Whee!" bowled Whiskers, and he hopped on top of Fritz's head,
grabbed him by the hair, and tried to pull it out by the roots.
"Mild up, Boilvar!" yelled the slangy bird, as he fastened his beak in
Tim's ear. "Waow! Whoop her up, boys! Cracker! Crack---"
Biff! went Tim's hand against Bismarck's head, interrupting him.
Bang! went Fritz fist against the monkey's neck sending him