"Trick?"
"Yes, trick, you stupid! Couldn't you see the pretense I made of running away from the cat, just to get a chance of flying over the fence to get at that impudent Shanghai rooster?"
"But," I gasped, "you didn't whip him, you know."
"Didn't whip him!" he mimicked with brazen effrontery. "Why, how else, I'd like to know, could I have been torn up so? All I want now is a chance at that sneaking cat, and I'll make the fur fly, I warrant you."
Here the old deceiver, overcome with weakness and loss of blood, staggered, and would have fallen but for the Support of the faithful Jennie and Sukey.
"Go away," hoarsely muttered the rooster, "go away; what do females know about war. They can't crow! Go away!"
I bethought me here of one very important question.
"I hesitate," I said, "to disturb a suffering creature, but—"
"Call to-morrow, Miss Reporter," he muttered wearily, "call to-morrow."
"But," I persisted, "you may not be alive to-morrow, and I only desire to know why you roosters invariably crow at midnight?"