"That's what I say, too!" cried Bull.
"Curious coincidence!" laughed Dewey. "Reminds me of a story I once heard, b'gee—I guess it's most too long a story to tell through. Remind me of it, Mark, and I'll tell it to you some day. One of the most remarkable tales I ever heard, that! Told me by a fellow that used to run a sausage factory. It was right next door to a "Home for Homeless Cats," though, b'gee, I couldn't ever see how the cats were homeless if they had a home there. They didn't stay very long, though. That was the funniest part of it. They used to sit on the fence near the sausage factory, b'gee——"
Dewey could have prattled on that way till doomsday with unfailing good humor. It made the yearlings mad and that was all he cared about. But by this time Bull had perceived that he was being guyed, and he turned away with an angry exclamation.
"You fellows may stay if you choose;" he said, "I'm going back to camp. And those plebes shall pay for this!"
"Cash on demand!" laughed Mark, as the discomfited crowd turned and slunk off.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE ALLIANCE IS COMPLETED.
Having been thus easily rid of their unpleasant enemies, the plebes set out in high feather for home.
"I must get back in time to dress for dinner, don't ye know," said the dude.
"I'm 'bliged to yew fellows," put in the farmer, getting up from his seat with a lazy groan. "My name's Methusalem Zebediah Chilvers, and I'll shake hands all raound."