"'What's wrong with 'em?' says I, me not seein' anything de-formed about 'em.
"'Hell' ses he, 'can't you see they's all de-formed?'
"'Search me,' ses I, lookin' 'em all over carefully.
"The kid picked up two of 'em. 'Lookit them tails then.' He turned one of 'em around. Now Beauty ain't got no great shakes of a tail herself, but what she has is straight. 'By Heck!' ses I, seein' a chanst to have some fun with him, 'sure enough, they is sort of de-formed in their little ole colas. Reckon they's no use botherin' to raise 'em, is they—what with their tails all as crooked as a gimlet. Too bad, too bad,' ses I, 'fer the missus will be monstrously disapp'inted over it.'
"'They's every dad burned one of 'em got a watch eye too, jist like that there ole Pinto hoss I rides.' The kid's sure worried.
"'Wuss an' more of it,' I comes back at him.
"'What we goin' to do with 'em?' droppin' the animiles back into the blankets.
"'Nothin', I reckon,' lookin' straight down my nose, 'less'n we drownds 'em—said job not bein' one I'm actually hankerin' fer.'"
