"Oh, they are about the size of a horse, that is, when they are young. As they grow older they get smaller, so that an old Pluibuscus is about the size of a dog. But it's the horns you have to look out for. They are pointed like daggers and very poisonous."
"Du meine zeit! Den I ton't vont to meet none of dose Pluricustibusters, or vot you call dem," and Hans shook his head, decidedly.
"If you see one I advise you to run," put in Sam, who was enjoying the fun.
"Run? You bet my life I run!" cried Hans.
"The best way to get away is to run into the water," went on Tom. "They hate the water. Just run into the lake and duck down and keep hidden for five or ten minutes and the Pluibuscus will walk away in disgust."
"How vos I going to keep mine head under der vater fife oder den minutes?" questioned Hans, in perplexity.
"Oh, take a deep breath," suggested Fred.
"I can't do him so long as dot."
"Poke a hole in the water to breathe through," suggested Dick.
"Say, I guess you vos making fun!" cried Hans, suspiciously. "Maybe dare ain't no Pluicusisduster at all. Dot's—vot you call him?—Yah! He is a fish story!"
