"You're confounded cross to-night, Doc," said Flag, as he seated himself on the bench beside Squire.
"Cross! Wasn't you cross. I wonder, while you was cook? To be sure, you said it was because you had such a terrible cold from the wind blowing on your bed during the storm; and that you had liked to have blown your brains out-the only witty thing you were ever guilty of saying, to my knowledge."
"Plague take the mice!" ejaculated Doc, vehemently, as he viewed the wreck of his only bit of butter; "they get into every thing. I believe they would go through a Dutchman's money-chest after a greasy coin; and as to keeping them out of things in this shanty, it isn't to be done."
"We'll have to have a rat-tail supper," remarked Flag.
"A what?" asked Squire.
"A rat-tail supper."
"That's a new delicacy! Pray how should they be served?" asked Doc, with great interest.
"In soup, I should say," suggested Squire.
"Oh, you unsuspecting innocents," laughed Flag, "would you, really now, desire some rat-tail soup?"
"Why, of course, if it's good,"
Flag indulged in an uproarous burst of merriment, which nearly upset the table.
"Explain yourself," said Squire.
After beginning several times and stopping to laugh, Flag managed at last to explain.
"Why, fellows, all there is about it is just this. Where I was raised, down in Southern Ohio, there was lots of rats-in fact the varmints caused very serious losses to the farmers and others. One winter, when I was a boy, we took to forming companies of rat-catchers. Two of these companies would contend together for catching the largest number in a given time; and when the time came for counting: tails, the party that was beaten had to give the other party a supper."
"Oho!" said Doc.
"Very patriotic," said Squire.
Flag humanely forbore to laugh any longer at the expense of his fellows, being under a wholesome fear of retaliation at the earliest opportunity.
After supper was dismissed, the dishes were tumbled together into a pan, to be left for Ed to wash when he came home. " As for doing Ed's work, I am not going to do it an hour longer. Three days is the rule; and Ed has shirked a whole day of his time as usual; "saying which Doc stretched himself on the bed which Flag had considerately given up because the cook complained of an ache in his back.
"Yes, Ed is a shirk, that's a fact," Squire remarked, as the Doctor became silent.
