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Rufus Applesnack had been listening to the talk, and now he gave Crabtree a jab in the ribs. "He's gut ye, deacon he's gut ye!" chuckled the grocery man. "He's gut ye right where the wool is short!" "I fail to see it! I fail to see it!" rasped Crabtree. "There ain't no similarity in the two cases. My mind is made up on the point, and I don't propose to change it."
"Which sorter reminds me of the mule Mr. Merriwell mentioned a few minutes ago," declared Applesnack, as he turned away. Frank secured his mail and was leaving the post office, when outside the door he came face to face with Owen Clearpath, the new parson of the village church. "I'd like to have a word with you, Mr. Merriwell," said the parson; "just a word."
'Twixt you and me, I'm going to tell Rufe Applesnack what I think of him. That cider was the most violent stuff I ever put down my woozle. It had an awful kick. I s'pose me and Eben and Elnathan are disgraced in Bloomfield for the rest of our lives. I don't think I'll show my head outside of the house for a month."
Applesnack and a few of the boys tried to keep 'em away, but 'twan't no use. Ten minutes arter they went down the road Mis's Given come lookin' for Eli, and some one told her where he'd gone. She hit the trail, and next we saw she was marchin' him back through town, with Uncle Eb and the deacon peggin' along behind, lookin' as meek and meechin' as wet cats.
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