going to turn myself into a mob and make him talk something we can sabe.

“What in —— is a Ovius? As far as I can remember there ain’t never been one seen here. None of the old-timers has ever spoke of any such a thing, Ike. There ain’t nothing in the Injun language that sounds like it.”

“Well,” says I, “what is astragalas splendens?”

“There you are!”

Magpie waves his arms and walks in a circle.

“There you are, Ike. Both of us holds a blank hand, so we just splits the pot. I reckon I’ll likely kill Ajax tomorrow.”

“And never find out what he’s after?”

“There are things better left unknown, Ike. Let’s go to bed before we mention something that we can’t explain.”

Ajax is writing in his little book by the light of a candle, and when we come in he stops.

“Pardon me,” says he to Magpie. “Has anything ever been written regarding the hipwiggler?”

“Nun-not that I knows about. It ain’t what you’d call popular.”

He thinks it over for a while, and then he sort of says to himself:

“It could be named after me. What an honor!”

“Yes’m,” admits Magpie. “You can be a father to it if you want to.”

“If I could only secure a specimen!” he wails. “I must! I will!”

He hops off his seat and walks up and down the cabin.

“You spoke of something about securing one by making a noise like a—a——”

“Loofmad?” asks Magpie.

“Exactly. A loofmad. Is it a—er—difficult sound to make?”

“Nope. Easy for lots of folks.”

 Prev. P 20/27 next