“Or that beautiful lullaby entitled, ‘You Never Miss Your Purse Until You Have to Walk Home.’ Give us that in nine flats, will you?”
“I tell you I can’t make a speech and I can’t sing!” shouted out the driver for the school, desperately.
“How sad! Can’t speechify and can’t sing! All right, then, let it go, and give us a dance.”
“That’s the talk! A real Japanese jig in five-quarter time.”
There was a rush, and in a twinkling poor Horsehair was boosted to the top of a big packing-case, that had been hauled to the spot as fuel for one of the bonfires. 107
“The stage!” announced one of the students, with a wave of his hand. “The World-Renowned Horsehairsky will perform his celebrated Dance of the Hop Scotch. Get your opera glasses ready.”
“What’s the admission fee?”
“Two pins and a big green apple.”
“I can’t dance—I ain’t never danced in my life!” pleaded the victim. “You let me go. I’ve got to take care o’ my hosses.”
While he was speaking Buster Beggs had come up behind Horsehair and placed something attached to a dark string on the box, between the driver’s feet. It was an imitation snake, made of rubber and colored up to look very natural.