Ajax said
gravely--
"We foreigners mustn't spit at free-born American citizens. What
spitting is done here, they do themselves."
"You have right. Ze _canaille_ say to me, to _me_, 'Come,'
he say, 'come, Baron, I have one six-shooter, one shot-gun, two
pitchfork, three spade, and one mowing-machine. Take your choice,' he
say, 'and we can fight till ze cows come home!' He use zose words,
_mes amis_, 'till ze cows come home!' _Tiens!_ Ze Frisian-
Holstein cows, who go dry when zey do come home--_hein?_"
He was so furiously angry that we dared not laugh, but we were
consumed with curiosity to know what secret Dumble had stolen. The
Baron did not inform us.
Fortunately for our peace of mind, Dumble came to us early next
morning. He went to the marrow of the matter at once.
"Boys," said he, "I want you to fix up things between me an' that
crazy Frenchman. How's that? Your friend. Wal, he _is_ a Frenchy,
an' he's crazy, as I'm prepared to prove. But I don't want no trouble
with him. He's my neighbour, and there ought to be nothin' between me
an' him."
"There'll always be a barbed wire fence," said Ajax.
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