“Think of what?” asked Sammy, his mind immediately becoming a perfect blank, as Wendell could feel.
“Oh, say a verse,” suggested Wendell. “That’s right:—‘Listen, my children, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.’”
“Gee, Wendell! How do you do it?” asked Sammy in bewilderment.
“Try it again,” said Wendell. “I get you. ‘The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rockbound coast.’”
“I know something,” said Sammy. “You hold on a minute. I got you stung this time.”
Sure enough! Though Wendell could get the sounds perfectly, they were too unfamiliar for him to repeat.
“I can’t say it,” he explained, “but I can hear it all right. It’s some foreign language. I’ll bet it’s Yiddish.”
“Yes, it is,” said Sammy. “Now let me try.”
So Wendell put the Cap on Sammy’s head and thought, “Sammy Davis, you’re a nut!” and Sammy grinned and enjoyed the joke on himself.
“Gee, Wendell!” said Sammy. “You certainly are in luck. You can go anywhere and find out anything. You are a lucky dog!”