“Sure it ain’t!” shouted Left Ear, outside, and the five rushed for the open door on the other side of the shack.
Poodle arose, in huge horror, and faced five large, happy grins.
“We thought we’d call on you and read you some of our poetry,” said Left Ear. “It’s so nice (ain’t it? Yes, no? sure it is, little Poodle; now don’t you answer me back) to have a fellow-goat—excuse me, fellow-poet, I meant—sympathize with you, in this crool world. Say, will you fellows just sit on Poodle,” he suggested to the other four, “and I’ll read you some of the beau-ti-ful things he has on that mahogany kitchen-table there. Oh, Poodle, how could you be so crool and keep them gems from us?”
There is an unwritten law of Santa Benicia that when a man is about to be subjected to a “jolly,” he may, if he have reasonable excuse, state it, and not receive the “jolly,” yet not be regarded as “begging off.” However, if he attempt to do this very often, it will take an excuse that would shake the world to be accepted as good. Poodle had never tried to get out of being “jollied” before, but this time he pleaded.
“Aw don’t Left Eared.... Reason’ble ’Scuse! This stuff I’m writing is for the school paper—it’s verse, all righto, but you’ll spoil it for me if you read it.”
“It don’t go—bum excuse,” growled Left Ear, furious at the prospect of losing this chance of being in the lime-light.
“It does go—first time I ever made Reason’ble ’Scuse; and it is reasonable, and it’s going to go.”
“Nix,” chortled the others, hypnotized by Left Ear. But they were suddenly surprised and shocked to see Poodle, with one quick motion, upset the table and chair, in a corner, and spring behind it, where he doubled up his fists and got into an attitude of defense. They edged toward him.
Left Ear stooped to pick up a paper fallen from the table in front of the barricade. But he caught, instead of the paper, Poodle’s fist under his chin. He was slightly lifted up, and dropped hard, on the floor.
Just then, the five saw Poodle violently shake his head and remark “I’ll handle ’em,” as if to some one behind them. They turned, to see Hike standing at the door, leaning against the door-jambs carelessly, and smiling very sweetly. Said Hike: