"Hair professor? Barber, eh? Why, I thought you
was a traveler. But hurry up over here--do you hear me?"
"My good man," began the German, stiffly, drawing himself up to his full
six-foot-one, "it is not often I am affronted by being addressed so--"
"There! He'll be outer sight in another minute, while you are arguin'
about your dignity!" muttered Holt. "And that's the feller you said you
wanted to see--Jack Benson."
"Benson?" cried the German, forgetting his outraged dignity and springing
forward. "Benson?"
"That's him--almost up to the corner," nodded Landlord Jabez Holt.
"Run out and bring him back with you," directed Herr Professor Radberg.
"Be quick!"
"Waal, I guess you're spryer'n I be," returned old Jabez, with a shrewd
look at his guest. "Besides, it's you that wants the boy."
Running back and snatching up his hat, Professor Radberg made for the
street without further argument.
Moving along hastily, the German soon came in sight of young Captain Jack
Benson, of the Pollard Submarine Torpedo Boat Company.
"Ach, there! Herr Benson!" shouted the Professor.
Hearing the hail, Jack Benson turned, then halted.
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