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tongue hung far out from his open mouth. The little boy looked at it.

"Old Boze," said he, "what a long tongue you have. Why is it that dogs
have such long tongues?"

Old Boze shifted his eves uneasily and looked the other way, but said
nothing.

"Come, now," said the little boy, "I am sure there is a story about that
long, red tongue of yours."

"To be sure there is," said a voice that came from just behind the boy's
ear. He looked around and there was Old Klaws the House Cat.

"What do you know about it?" asked the little boy.

"Oh, I know all about it," answered the old cat. "But ask Old Boze," he
went on with a grin, "perhaps he'll tell you."

Old Boze got up slowly and with dignity. "I am too tired to tell
stories," said he, "but I'm not too tired to shake the foolishness out
of a cat."

"Here now," said the little boy, "no quarreling and fighting. I won't
have it. And Klaws shall tell me that story about your long, red tongue,
if he will."

"To be sure I will," said Old Klaws, delighted to be able to tease Old
Boze safely. Of course there was another time coming when little Luke
might not be at hand, but then the old cat trusted to speed and sharp
claws to put himself up a tree and out of the reach of the old hound.

"All right," said Old Boze, "if you're fond of the company of a
sneaking, mouse-eating, old tabby. I'm not. I'll take myself off. But
my memory is good," he added, glancing at Old Klaws with a snarl that
showed all his sharp, white teeth.

"Well, now for the story," said the little boy, when Old Boze was out of
sight around the corner.

"Long, long ago," began Old Klaws, "when all the animal kindreds could
talk the man-talk, the dogs were the greatest telltales in the world.
They told everything they knew, and sometimes a great deal more. Their
masters often flogged them for tattling, but it did little or no good.

"In those days there was a great hunter whose name was Man-e-do. He
wanted a dog to help him hunt, but he did not want a tattletale. So he
took a fine, young pup, and tried to bring him up to be a good hunter
and to keep his tongue. He took good care of him. He often told him how
foolish it was to tell everything he knew. The pup would promise not to
tattle, but he was only a dog, and blood will tell after all.

"When the pup was big enough, his master took him with him when he went
hunting for small game. The dog was a good trailer by this time, and
together they kille