“Ike,” orates Magpie, “this is uh cinch. That badger resembles uh li’l bear uh heap, don’t yuh know it? Also, Abie is so shy on hair that nobody could prove whether he’s black, brown or gray. Let’s be glad.”
“Lets be glad uh li’l later on,” I suggests. “I’m strong on this here gladsome stuff, Magpie, but this here idea uh countin’ yore scientific experiments before they’re done experimentin’ is uh heap like lightin’ yore last match to see if it’s uh good one before yuh goes to th’ trouble uh makin’ uh cigaret.”
Th’ perfessor is sunnin’ hisself by th’ cabin when we gits back, and th’ doc is fussin’ with uh pho-tygraft apparatus. They welcomes us real heartily, and th’ perfessor is uh heap excited and pleased to know that we’re ready fer th’ experiment.
“I hope I can get some good action in a bear picture,” states th’ doc. “It will help in provin’ th’ perfessor’s experiments.”
That was some pilgrimage. We strings out in single file, with Magpie in th’ lead and th’ perfessor next. We places th’ fe-male next in line, allowin’ considerable space between her and th’ doc, in case she should rear up and fall over backwards on some of th’ steep pitches. Also, fer safety sake I packs th’ doc’s shotgun. When we reaches the alleged bear den we finds Mighty settin’ at th’ door.
“Abe’s ailin’ ag’in,” sez he, solemn like, lookin’ th’ outfit over.
“Who is Abe?” asks th’ doc.
“His pardner,” states Magpie, winkin’ hard at Mighty. “He seems to have pains in his stummick most of th’ time.”
“Appendicitis,” pronounces th’ doc. “May need an operation.”
“Doctor,” sez th’ perfessor, “this is no time to talk of operations. Prepare your camera and try and picture the proceedings.” And then he asks Magpie—