“There’s a la-a-a-nd that is fairer than this----”
Magpie gets to his feet and takes a deep breath.
“Testament,” says he, “what made yuh blat like a sheep?”
But Testament’s mind is not dwelling on sheep--not the kind of sheep
that Magpie meant.
Then the three of us starts limping toward home.
“Mebbe,” says Magpie, kinda painful-like, “mebbe we progressed too fast.
Piperock don’t appreciate it, gents, but this night the old town jumped
ahead at least fifty years.”
“Jumpin’,” says Dirty, reflective-like, “Jumpin’ don’t hurt nobody, but,
holy hen-hawks, it sure does hurt to jump that far and light so hard.”
We pilgrims along, everybody trying hard to make their legs track.
Finally Magpie says--
“Personally, I think that interpretive dancin’ has anythin’ skinned I
ever seen.”
“Me too,” says I, “and parts I never have seen.”
[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the April 30, 1922 issue
of Adventure Magazine.]