“You didn’t break your resolution,” said Dewey.
“Why not?” inquired Stanard.
“Because, b’gee, you vowed you wouldn’t fly. And you haven’t flown since, that I see. What you did was to flee, b’gee. If you flyed you wouldn’t have fleed, but since you fleed you didn’t fly. Some day, b’gee, when you’ve been bitten, you’ll understand the difference between a fly and a flea. You’ll find that a flea can fly a great deal faster than a fly can flee, b’gee, and that——”
Somebody jumped on Dewey and smothered him again just then, but it wasn’t a yearling. He bobbed up serenely a minute later, to find that the Parson’s grammatical old ribs had been tickled by the distinction so carefully made.
“People are very grammatical in Boston, aren’t they, Parson?” inquired Dewey. “Reminds me of a story I once heard, b’gee—you fellows needn’t groan so, because this is the first story I’ve told to-day. Fellow popped the question to his best girl. She said, ‘No, b’gee.’ ‘Say it again,’ says he. ‘No!’ says she. ‘Thanks,’ says he. ‘Two negatives make an affirmative. You’ve promised. Where shall we go for our honeymoon?’ B’gee, Parson, there’s a way for you to fool your best girl. She’s sure to say no, and I don’t blame her either.”
The lively Dewey subsided for a moment after that. But he couldn’t keep quiet very long, especially since no one took up the conversation.
“Speaking of oranges,” said he, “reminds me of a story I once heard, b’gee——”
“Who was speaking of oranges?” cried Texas.
“I was,” said Dewey solemnly, and then fled for his life.
The other three members of the Banded Seven arrived upon the scene just then and put an end to hostilities. Chauncey, Sleepy and Indian had not had the luck to meet with the yearlings yet, and they listened in amazement and indignation while Mark told the story of Bull Harris and his latest tactics.