“Reckon we’ll have to drink bug juice.” He drew a flask from his pocket and took a long draught, smacking his lips with evident enjoyment.

Here Jagg did his Skootaway stunt, and Ab blinked. There was not even a glimmer of white in the air—one merely had the impression that something had gone by.

“Say, pardner,” said Ab, brokenly, “tell me the truth. Have I got ’em, or was there a Goat with a plug hat on settin’ here a minute ago?”

“The Goat and the hat were both here,” I assured him, and he sighed in relief. “I suppose,” he continued, meditatively, “that we both orter take the pledge.”

Jagg returned in time for breakfast and sat opposite us. The dislike between him and Ab speedily ripened into hate, and I could see that a catastrophe was due before long, but I made no allusion to it.

“What be you goin’ to call the beast?” asked Ab.

“Haven’t thought about it,” I returned, shortly.

“I suppose he wouldn’t need to be called,” remarked Ab. “He seems to be here most of the time.”

I smiled as pleasantly as could be expected under the circumstances, and Ab went on with his part of the sketch. “Too bad he ain’t a Sheep.”

“Why?” I asked, seeing that he was waiting for the question.

“Had a fool friend once,” observed Ab, “with one of them high-toned stock farms. He had one cussed old Sheep of some fancy breed that he paid five thousand dollars for. The boys used to call him Hi-ram.”

I made no answer, being busy with the dishes, and Ab retreated into the shrubbery. “Say,” he yelled, from a respectful distance, “be you English?”

My blood burned to be at him, but I did not wish to quarrel with the only human being for miles around, nor to lower myself to the level of my kindred of the wild, who fight it out with claw and tooth and fang. Jagg, who was sitting near me, snorted loudly with anger and the hair on the back of his neck bristled.

He came to me, and by repeated significant gestures made me understand that he wished me to remove his hat. I did so, but with difficulty.

When Ab appeared at dinner time, Jagg took no apparent notice of him. The kettle was singing cheerily and the delicious scent of the frying bacon was 

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