"Yes, you can! How can you prove it?"
"I'll show you!" cried Biscuit as he started for home. "You wait right here till I get back!"
"He won't be back," predicted Cottontop; "let's get a move on us."
"Aw, we might as well wait around a few minutes," said Sube. "There's some'pm funny about this. He never acted like that before."
They had not long to wait before Biscuit was seen coming towards them on a run. In his hand he carried what looked like a small club, but proved on closer examination to be a mailing-tube. By means of a moistened finger that left Bertillon imprints wherever it touched, Biscuit extracted and unfurled before his skeptical companions the cherished roll of vegetable sheepskin.
"There!" he declared proudly. "I guess that'll prove it!"
"Di-plo-mer—" pronounced Sube.
"Diplomer's right!" boasted the graduate. "This here's my diplomer in plain and fancy swimmin' and divin'! It was rewarded to me by the Inter-State Cor'spon'ence School of Chicago, Ill'noise."
Sube was impressed, deeply impressed; but he was not convinced. "It's a diplomer all right," he admitted; "but can you swim?"
"Can I swim? Can I? Say, you jus' watch me! Watch me!"