"Plainly, a d——d Philistine," said Battersleigh again, striking a match for his pipe. "But I'm not sure but he had you there, Ned, me boy."
"I'll show you," said Franklin eagerly. "Here it is on the hide. The hump came to here. Here was the knee joint—you can see by the whirl in the muscles as plainly as you could by the curl in the hair there—you can see it under a wolf's leg, the same way; the hair follows the lines of the muscles, you know. Wait, I could almost make you a dummy out of the clay. Now, look here—"
"You're a funny sort o' a feller, Cap," said Curly, "but if you're goin' to tan that hide you'd better finish peggin' it out, an' git to work on it."
CHAPTER XIII
PIE AND ETHICS
One morning Battersleigh was at work at his little table, engaged, as he later explained, upon the composition of a letter to the London Times, descriptive of the Agrarian Situation in the United States of America, when he was interrupted by a knock at his door.
"Come in, come in, Ned, me boy," he exclaimed, as he threw open the door and recognised his visitor. "What's the news this mornin'?"
"News?" said Franklin gaily, holding his hands behind his back. "I've news that you can't guess—good news."
"You don't mean to tell me they've moved the land office into Ellisville, do you, Ned?"
"Oh, no, better than that."