it was not put to the test. Eph scrambled out of his
bush, and, taking up the chase once more, soon brought it to an end,
for Fisherman Jones, his nerve completely gone, could only stand and
mumble sadly to himself, "He's eating up my tackle! He's eating up my
tackle!" and the line, wrapping about his motionless form, led Eph and
the turkey in a brief spiral which ended in the conjunction of the
three.

It was not until the turkey was decapitated that Eph remembered the
heaven-born inventor and hastened to his rescue. He was still in the
trap, but he was quite content, for he was figuring out a plan for an
automatic release from the same, something which should hold the
captive so long and then let him go in the interests of humanity. He
found the trap from the captive's point of view very interesting and
instructive.

The tenacity of Miltiades's make-up was further shown by the
difficulty Eph and Fisherman Jones had in separating him from his
feathers that evening; and Aunt Tildy was so interested in the project
of the heaven-born inventor to raise featherless turkeys that she
forgot the yeast cake she had put to soak until it had been boiling
merrily for some time. Everything seemed to go wrong-end-to, and they
all sat up so late that Mrs. Simpkins, across the way, was led to
observe that "Either some one was dead over at Todd's or else they
were having a family party"; and in a certain sense she was right both
ways.

The crowning misadventure came next morning. Eph started for the
village with his mind full of commissions from Aunt Tildy, some of
which he was sure to forget, and in a great hurry lest he forget them
all. He threw the harness hastily upon Dobbin, hitched him into the
wagon which had stood out on the soft ground overnight, and with an
eager "Get up, there!" gave him a slap with the reins.

Next moment there was a ripping sound, and the heaven-born inventor
came to the door just in time to see the horse going out of the yard
on a run, with Eph following, still clinging to the reins, and taking
strides much like those of Baron Munchausen's courier.

"Here, here!" called the inventor, "you've forgot the wagon. Come
back, Eph! You've forgot the wagon!"

"Jeddediah Jodkins!" said Eph, as he swung an eccentric curve about
the gatepost; "do you--whoa!--suppose I'm such a--whoa! whoa!--fool
that I don't know that I'm not riding--whoa! in a--whoa!
whoa!--wagon?" And with this Eph vanished up street in th