J. Archibald McKackney
lost the number of his mess for keeps. The next highest chief or prime minister was the Johnny with the second finest whiskers, and so on down the line until you come to the Comb and Whisker Bearer to His Royal Nibs.
"It might ha' been one year, and it might ha' been a hundred and forty-seven years for all I know, when I found by measurin' my whiskers every morning that they had reached their limit. They had sprouted every last blankety blank sprout there was in 'em. Then with fear and trembling I signified my intention of entering the next competition for office, which was held every six months. It was something like Civil Service examinations. I played in hard luck that trip, for this here competition brought out the finest collection of prize whiskers ever seen on Lemuel Wilkins Island. It had been fine growin' weather, lots of showers and sunshine, and them native-bred tropical varieties took to it kindlier than my brand, which was reared in the temperate zone.
