"Vos is los mit Bismark?" yelled the German from his retreat at the boys and Cal, who were almost convulsed with laughter at the creature's comical antics.
"I guess his brains is loose," hailed back Cal, whose knowledge of the German language was limited.
"He's mad!" shouted Joe by way of imparting some useful information.
"Mad? Voss iss he madt about?"
"Oh, what's the use?" sighed Joe. Then placing his hands funnelwise to his mouth he bawled out:—
"He's locoed!"
"Low toed?" exclaimed the amazed German. "Then I take him mit der blacksmith."
"Say, you simian-faced subject of Hoch the Kaiser, can't you understand English?" howled Cal, in a voice that might have dislodged a mountain. "Bismark is crazy, locoed, mad, off his trolley, got rats in his garret, bats in his belfry, bug-house, screw-loose, daft, looney—now do you understand?"
"Yah!" came the response, "now I know. Bismark is aufergerspeil."
"All right, call it that if you want to," muttered Cal. Then, as Bismark, with a final flourish of his heels and a loud shrill whinny, galloped off, the Westerner turned to the boys.