A _line_
was all I asked; _but Peter established a regular Pertectorate_--_nobody
can 'get' us now_----"
"You mean Peter adopted both of you?" cried Douglas.
"Sure!" indorsed Mickey with a flourish. "You see it was like this: when
we dosed Junior with Multiopolis, the old threshing machine took a hand
and did some things to him that wasn't on the program; he found out about
it, and it made him mad. When he got his dander up he hit back by turning
old Miss Country loose on me. First I tried a ram and yellow jackets; then
only a little bunch of maple twigs was all the pull I had to keep me from
going to the bottomless pit by the way of the nastiest quicksand on
Atwater Lake. Us fellows went back one day and fed it logs bigger than I
am, and it sucked them down like Peter does a plate of noodles. Then
Junior thought curling a big dead rattler in the path, and shunting me so
I'd step right on it, would be a prime joke; but he didn't figure on the
snake he had fixed for me having a mate as big and ugly as it was, that
would follow and coil zipping mad over the warm twisting body----"
"Mickey!" gasped Douglas.
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