On hearing my report, Uncle Jim phlegmatically thrust the flexible whip down the hole.
"'Coon," he pronounced, after listening to the resultant remarks from within.
And then the same bright idea struck us both.
"Mrs. Kitty here makes good with those angleworms," Uncle Jim voiced the inspiration.
We blocked up the hole securely; and made rapid time back to the ranch.
CHAPTER X
THE MEDIUM-SIZE GAME
Against many attacks and accusations of uselessness cast at her dachshunds, Mrs. Kitty had always stoutly opposed the legend of "medium-size game." The dachshunds may look like bologna sausages on legs, ran the gist of her argument; and they may progress like rather lively measuring worms; and the usefulness of their structure may seem to limit itself to a facility for getting under furniture without stooping, but—Mrs. Kitty's eloquence always ended by convincing herself, and she became very serious—but that is not the dogs' fault. Rather it is the fault of their environment to which they have been transplanted. Back in their own native vaterland they were always used for medium-sized game. And what is more they are good at it! Come here, Pete, they shan't abuse you!