“I must have a look at this monster,” Mr. Crow remarked. “When would be a good time for me to see him?”
“At milking-time,” Jolly Robin told him. “If you’ll meet me on the bridge down the road when you see Johnnie Green and old dog Spot driving the cows home from the pasture this afternoon, I’ll be glad to show you the four-armed man. And then you’ll admit that I’m not joking.”
“I’ll certainly be there—” Mr. Crow promised—“but on one condition. You must tell me now whether you have ever 99 known this queer being to fire a gun. If a two-armed man can shoot one gun, I see no reason why a four-armed man could not fire at least two guns at the same time. And if there’s any chance of such a thing happening, I would not care to be present.”
Jolly Robin had hard work to keep from laughing again. The very idea of the four-armed man aiming two guns at old Mr. Crow struck him as being very funny. He couldn’t speak at all for a few moments. But he shook his head violently.
“You think there’s no danger, then?” said Mr. Crow, anxiously.
“None at all!” Jolly Robin answered him. “He carries nothing more dangerous than milk-pails.”
“Then I’ll meet you on the bridge,” Mr. Crow promised.