“Well?”
“I’ve got an idea about that gander.”
“You with an idea! Be good to it, kid, for it’s in a strange place.”
“The old man was sent to the Pardyville depot to get the granddaughter. See? But he knew it was dangerous for the girl to come here. Old Chew was liable to cut her throat, or something. And so—”
“For the love of mud!” squeaked the listener. “What have you been reading?—a dime novel?”
“Anyway,” says I, “old Chew was liable to do something to her. So Ivory Dome tells her to hide in Pardyville. See? And then she gives him her pet gander. And she says: ‘You take the gander home with you. And as soon as it’s safe for me to come tie a note to its tail—’”
“It’s tail!” whooped Poppy.
“I mean its hind foot,” I corrected. “She tells him that. See? And the scheme is for the gander to take to the air and carrier-pigeon the note to her.”
Bang! Something under the hood sneezed its shirt off. And jumping for my life, I landed on my snoot in the middle of the sandy road.
“That’s what you get for your crazy talk,” the driver laughed at me, when I got up, rubbing my skinned nose.