t old heron-legged Alcander right in his family. Now this
thing is gittin' onto your sperits, and I can see it!"

"It is heiferin' me bad," admitted the Cap'n. "It ain't so much the
hens--though Gawd knows I hate a hen bad enough--but it's Bat Reeves
standin' up there grinnin' and watchin' me play tag-you're-it with
Old Scuff-and-kick and them female friends of his. For a man that's
dreamed of garden-truck jest as he wants it, and never had veg'tables
enough in twenty years of sloshin' round the world on shipboard, it's
about the most cussed, aggravatin' thing I ever got against. And
there I am! Swear and chase--and northin' comin' of it!"

Hiram clenched his cigar more firmly in his teeth, leaned over
carefully, and picked up the recumbent P.T.

He tucked the rooster under his arm and started off.

"Let's go 'crost back lots," he advised. "What people don't see and
don't know about won't hurt 'em, and that includes your wife and mine.

"It won't be no kind of a hen-fight, you understand," Hiram chatted
as they walked, "'cause that compost-heap scratcher won't last so
long as old Brown stayed in heaven. For P.T., here, it will be jest
bristle, shuffle, one, two--brad through each eye,
and--'Cock-a-doodle-doo!' All over! But it will give you a chance
to see some of his leg-work, and a touch or two of his fancy
spurrin'--and then you can take old Sculch-scratcher by the legs and
hold him up and inform Bat Reeves that he can come and claim property.
It's his own game--and we're playin' it! There ain't any chance for
law where one rooster comes over into another rooster's yard and gets
done up. Moral: Keep roosters in where the lightnin' won't strike
'em."

When they topped Hickory Hill they had a survey of Cap'n Sproul's
acres. Here and there on the brown mould of his garden behind the
big barn were scattered yellow and gray specks.

"There they be, blast 'em to fury!" growled the Cap'n.

His eyes then wandered farther, as though seeking something familiar,
and he clutched the showman's arm as they walked along.

"And there's Bat Reeves's gray hoss hitched in the widder's
dooryard."

"Mebbe he'll wait and have fricasseed rooster for dinner," suggested
Hiram, grimly. "That's all his rooster'll be good for in fifteen
minutes."

"It would be the devil and repeat for us if the widder's rooster
should lick--and Bat Reeves standin' and lookin' on," suggested the
Cap'n, bodingly.

Hiram stopped short, looked this