“You forget the hunters of North America,” said Jack, “who entice little antelopes towards them by merely wagging a bit of rag on the end of a ramrod.”
“I forget nothing of the sort,” retorted Peterkin. “Wagging a ramrod is not wagging a tail. Besides, I spoke of beasts doing it; men are not beasts.”
“Then I hold you self-convicted, my boy,” exclaimed Jack; “for you have often called me a beast.”
“By no means, Jack. I am not self-convicted, but quite correct, as I can prove to the satisfaction of any one who isn’t a philosopher. You never can prove anything to a philosopher.”
“Prove it, then.”
“I will. Isn’t a monkey a beast?”
“Certainly.”
“Isn’t a gorilla a monkey?”
“No doubt it is.”
“And aren’t you a gorilla?”