The Cowboy threw a rope to the Dunce and the rest of the Teenie Weenies soon pulled him to safety.
“S-S-S-Say,” gasped the Dunce, rubbing the juice out of his eyes, “don’t t-t-t-tell the General. He’d give me an awful scolding for getting into this mess.”
“Well, you know that it’s not right to go meddling into things,” said the Cowboy, “but if you promise not to try anything like this again, we’ll not tell on you.”
“I’ll promise,” answered the Dunce, “bu-bu-bu-but look at my clothes, they are spoiled.”
“Me fix that all right,” cried Zip. “Me take you to laundry and wash clothes for you.”
Taking a roundabout way so they would not be seen, the Dunce and Zip soon reached the laundry, where the Dunce stripped to the skin and crawled into the Chinaman’s bed, while Zip washed and dried the soiled clothes.
“They still smell a little of the pickled peaches,” said the Dunce, as he put on his clothes.
“Your clothes not smell much like peach,” said Zip, sniffing at the Dunce. “Nobody notice him.”
As it was nearly supper time, the Dunce hurried over to the shoe house, and when he drew his chair up to the tiny dinner table the Lady of Fashion looked suspiciously at him.