“No. I had it when I arrived.”
“——!” grunts Magpie. “What was it, Ajax?”
“The—er—specimen of the genus Ovius.”
I grabs Magpie just in time. Ajax never did know how close he skidded to the graveyard that time. Magpie was so mad that he wouldn’t come into the cabin while I throws a feed into Ajax.
“There should be a drastic legislation against the careless use of firearms,” states Ajax. “Would you believe it—” he pokes a fork at me like he was trying to see if I was done—“some careless person, evidently shooting at random, nearly struck me? I was a little south of here, returning with my specimen, when I detected a singing noise past my ear. Immediately following came the report of a firearm.
“In endeavoring to ascertain the location of the miscreant I became entangled with my specimen, and luckily we fell into a depression behind an outcropping of granite formation. Luckily the depression was filled with a thick growth of mimosaceous shrub, which screened us from view.
“I feel sure that the target was located upon or near that granite outcropping, because in a few minutes I could hear the marksman carrying on a conversation like this, omitting the vulgarity, of course:
“‘Pshaw! Missed entirely!’
“And then he seemed heartily ashamed of himself, as he said:
“‘Too bad! I should have had higher aspirations.’