“Grab hold uh this door! How do I know where I got it? When you and Oscar paraded off down th’ hill I sees uh pair uh eyes shinin’ in there and I jist slams th’ door in time to catch his neck. Gosh, ain’t he a sassy-lookin’ animule, Ren? Where’s Oscar?”
“Hog-tied to uh log,” mumbled Ren. “At least I got uh cougar tied to th’ log—I didn’t ask his name. I wonder how two of ’em got in at oncet, and which is Oscar?”
“This ain’t Oscar,” stated Sig with conviction. “No house variety of cougar would have uh face and uh disposition like this one, Ren.”
“Hang onto th’ door, Sig, while I takes uh board off th’ wall and attacks him from behind. You jist keep on squeezin’ him and I’ll tie him up.”
Ren got the hammer and removed a board. The cougar objected at the top of its voice, but in a few minutes Ren had it trussed up and tied off to a rafter.
They went into the cabin, boiled a pot of coffee and had a smoke.
“Well, we don’t know which is Oscar, but I reckon Miss Reynolds can pick him out,” remarked Ren.
“Said she’d love me if I got him,” grinned Sid, “and I’ve got him.”
“Yore hearin’ is on uh par with yore brains,” drawled Ren. “She said ‘us,’ and what’s more, Siggie, you ain’t got him—I’ve got him. Sabe? I risked my whole danged life to git her that cougar. You can put yore location notice on that one in th’ shed, but not on Oscar. He’s mine, located, filed and patented.”
“Is that so!” exploded Sig. “I’m here to orate that it was my scheme which caught it! All you did was to hang on to th’ rope and, not bein’ overly strong nor active, you permits that li’l cat to haul yuh around, regardless. And now yuh opines that yuh owns Oscar. Not any yuh don’t!