An Agreeable Disappointment.
"Sing a song of moccasins,
Pockets full of rye.
Four and twenty black bears.
Sniff! I smell a lie!"
So said the bear, in a nursery, sing-song tone of voice; then fetching a quick sniff at the air, began peering about him—first this way, then that way, then another way—every way, indeed, but straight at Sprigg.
"First behead the headsman,
Then we'll fry the friar;
Next we'll hang the hangman.
Snuff! I smell a liar!"