The old man kept on gettin’ barbered, so as to have the chance o’ clashin’ with Eugene about every subject which came up; but finally he got so he could be shaved in a decent, orderly manner without havin’ his head tied down to the rest. Him an’ Eugene was the most antagonistic fellers I ever met up with; but it was a long time before me an’ Spider could think up a way to get ’em fairly at it again.
One day Spider came ridin’ in from Danders, bubblin’ over with excitement, and yells out—“Pete Peabody’s got a freak guinea-pig.”
“That’s glorious news,” sez I. “Let’s get all the boys together an’ hold a celebration.”
“I guess a freak guinea-pig’s as worthy o’ bein’ commented on as airy other kind of freak,” sez Spider, stridin’ off to the corral, purty well pouted up.
He hadn’t more ’n reached it before an idee reached me, an’ I ran after him. “What is the’ freakish about this guinea-pig, Spider?” sez I.
“He’s got a tail,” snapped Spider.
“Ain’t they all got tails?” sez I.
“You know they ain’t,” he sez. “You remember what that feller from the East said last spring—if you hold up a guinea-pig by the tail, his eyes fall out, an’ then when we didn’t believe it, he told us they didn’t have no tails. Pete sez that this guinea-pig is the only one in the world what has a tail.”
“Do you reckon he’d sell it?”
“He’d sell the hair off his head,” sez Spider.