[Illustration: "I wisht somebody'd telegraph that son-of-a-gun for me.">[
"Well, then he'd be chilly and reckon he'd climb under the stove. But Thomas 'ud be there.
"'H-h-h-h-hhhh!' says Tom, in a whisper.
"'Er-raow-pht!" says Robert. 'Mmmmm-mm—errrrr—pht!' And so on for some time, the talk growing louder, then, with a yell that would stand up every hair on your head, Bob 'ud hop him. Over goes the cook-stove. Away rolls the hot coals on the floor. Down comes the stove-pipe and the frying-pans and the rest of the truck, whilst the old Judge in the corner hollered decisions, heart-broke because he was tied by the leg and could not get a claw into the dispute.
[Illustration: Bob 'ud hop him.]
"By the time we had 'em separated—Bob headed up in his barrel and Tom tied up in his sack—put the fire out, and fixed things generally, there wasn't a great deal left of that night's rest.
"But children will be children. We swore awful, still we wouldn't have missed their company for a fair-sized farm.