Uncle Sam made a desperate effort, opened his mouth, drew in a long breath, put his hand up to form a trumpet, and applying the machinery as near as possible to Billy's head, called out,
'He's a teacher.'
'A preacher?' and Billy nodded and smiled; 'that's good going to stay here?'
'Bless my soul, what shall I do? I shan't try agin', no how.'
'Sally'll be glad to hear that; where is he from?'
Uncle Sam looked first one way and then the other, as though meditating an escape; but he hated to move, and in fact he knew there would be little use in trying it, for Billy would be after him so he finally cast an imploring eye up to his neighbor, who stooping down and looking very inquiringly into his face.
'O dear, dear! I ain't got no breath to do it.'
Billy shook his head.
'Don't hear.'
'No, nor you won't if the sound has got to come out of me; it can't be done.'