sick-looking goat.

Ajax has got the sack over his shoulder, and when he sees us he swings it to the ground.

Above him on the hill is Scenery with a rifle in his hands, and about sixty feet behind Ajax is Mighty, hanging on to his nose. Below Ajax, standing on the side of the hill with a rock in each hand, is Doleful.

“Stand still, dog-gone you!” squeaks Scenery. “You’re under arrest!”

“It is all very peculiar,” says Ajax sick-like. “I don’t know what it all means, and I——”

Ajax picks up his sack and starts for us.

“Stop him, Magpie!” yelps Scenery. “Shoot the darn fool!”

Ajax stops and looks foolish.

“Will somebody explain things?” asks Magpie, holding his nose.

“He’s a thief,” says Scenery. “Caught with the goods, too. He stole thet goat from Mighty Jones.”

“Well,” says I, “why don’t you arrest him, Scenery? He ain’t heeled.”

“Not me! I don’t want him.”

“I demand his arrest!” yelps Mighty.

“Shut up, Mighty!” squeaks Scenery. “He’s been arrested five minutes; ain’t you, feller?”

“You mentioned such a proceeding,” admits Ajax.

“The law is satisfied.”

“What you got in the sack, Ajax?” I yells.

“I am not sure, but I think it is a hipwiggler.”

“He tried to steal my sheep,” stated Doleful. “He assaulted me and——”

“Hipwiggler ——!” snorts Mighty. “He’s got a polecat in that sack. Him and that goat are inoculated against any smell from now on and forever. Amen.”

 Prev. P 23/27 next