ally tickling his own nose with a feathery timothy-head, and said that of course he had seen it, and that he had hardened mud marbles in it, many a time.
"But I thought it took years and years to petrify a thing!" protested the doubting Lionel Clarence.
"Not in the Catfish Spring," said Lonely, with much decision. "Why, Bart Connelly went in swimmin' in that spring three or four times, and he got so stiff in the knees you could hear him creak when he walked—from gettin' petrified in the joints, folks said!"
Had the excellent Lonely heard of any other prodigious thing effected by the Catfish Spring? And the circle drew closer about him once more.
"Yes, folks was always gettin' in trouble about that spring," went on Lonely, with that meditative half drawl which was apt to mark his purely creative moments. "An Uncle Si of mine, who got his ankle sprained jumpin' off a load o' barley, thought the spring would be a good place to take down the swellin'. None o' this hanged petrifyin' talk was ever goin' to keep him from soakin' his foot in the
