“You danged hog!” wails Doleful. “I know when I’ve had a plenty. Where is my boots?”

Ajax feels of his ear like he half-expected to find the boot in there, but when he don’t find it he shakes his head.

“I don’t know, I’m sure.”

“I’m going,” states Doleful. “My gosh, it’s dark today! I can just see enough to miss hittin’ trees, and that’s about all. Where are you?”

“T fear I’m not able to give you concise information on the subject,” says Ajax painful-like, “because I am not aware of my exact position. If it will enlighten you to any extent I will say this much; I am on the ground.”

“Then you stay there,” advises Doleful. “If I step on you don’t get sore, ’cause I don’t mean nothing but good-by. Sabe?”

Doleful stumbles across Ajax’s feet and goes weaving off through the mesquite, hanging on to his pants and picking up cactus in his feet. Then Ajax gets to his feet and peers around. His specs are still hanging around his neck, and he tries to put ’em on. He’s been booted across the bridge of his nose, the same of which makes his specs feel like his nose was in a vise.

He yanks ’em off, and then begins to search his pockets. After a while he finds what he’s looking for. Then he feels his way over to a rock, where he gets interested in looking at something—or trying to. We sneaked over and took a look. He’s got a compass on the rock, and is talking to himself.

“Unless I am greatly mistaken I traveled due south. Due north would take me—uh— Now would it? Which way did I pursue the Ovius? Well, no matter, as I can not see the compass, therefore I am lost. Perhaps my shadow will inform me of the position of the sun, and by taking the time of day——”

He turns and peers at the ground.

“Futile,” he mutters. “There is no shadow. No matter, as my watch is not running. Still I am lost. Not knowing the proper procedure in such a case, I will endeavor to remain stationary until such a time as I may regain the use of my optic nerves. I will think of a remedy.”

“Raw beefsteak is hyiu stuff,” suggests Magpie. “Ever try it?”

Ajax almost hopped out of his shoes. He peers at us, and then:

“Ah! Raw steak? I greatly prefer mine medium, en casserole.”

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