“No, sir,” said Eddie. “Didn’t we have a fight with an eagle?” he appealed to Dee.
“I should say we did!” said Dee.
“Well, show us a feather,” demanded Fatty.
“What do you think we did?” said Eddie scornfully. “Reach over and pull out some of his tail?”
“I’d ’a’ done it,” said Fatty. “I found something dandy up where I was, and I brought it home for a souvenir.”
“Well, trot it out!” said Eddie.
“Not much!” retorted Fatty. “Not on your life! It’s a peach of a thing too, but let’s see your feather, and I will let you see what I found.”
“Aw, I don’t care what you found,” said Eddie. “You have missed the best time you ever had, and the best swim, and I’m sorry for you.”
It turned hot again next day, and Fatty hung his flannel shirt away. The queer cylinder was in the pocket. Mrs. Bascom found that shirt a few days later and put it in the wash. The cylinder, looking nice and bright and brassy, she laid in the drawer beside Fatty’s handkerchiefs.
Fatty found it there on Sunday when he dressed for Sunday School, and thinking that there might be a chance for a dicker between lessons, he rubbed it up on his pocket handkerchief, and putting it in his breast pocket where the end gleamed out enticingly, he started off.