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And this one cure the Master applied. He tied the slain rooster firmly around Bruce's furry throat, and made the puppy wear it, as a heavy and increasingly malodorous pendant, for three warm days and nights. Before the end of this seventy-two-hour period, Bruce had grown to loathe the sight and scent of chicken.
So saying, she ran out into the field, but too late; the little turkeys were all in the very middle of a bramble bush, which had tangled in their feathers, until it was impossible to get them out; beside which, a fox had entered the barn yard in the goose girl's absence, by the gate, which she had carelessly left swinging open, and carried off the biggest and handsomest Poland rooster, that Wise Peter valued even more than the turkeys.
Then the Mexican drove him into the stable. But not even now did he abandon his vigil. He entered his box-stall, with its tiny square window, and fixed his troubled gaze again upon the house. The sky was bright with coming day. From somewhere arose the crow of a rooster. Out on the river trail a team plodded slowly to market. But the light in the room was still burning.
Mamma and Papa Wibblewobble were sitting in front of the duck pen, talking with Grandfather Goosey-Gander and the big rooster. They were so busily engaged in conversation about the best way to serve cold corn meal mixed with water, that when Lulu asked her parents if she and Jimmie and Alice could go for a swim, Mrs. Wibblewobble said: "Yes, my dear, but be careful you don't get wet."
The Father pulled the red streamer and rang the bell. Then he threw a piece of money into the box. It fell with a great noise. "Cock-a-doodle-doo," crowed the rooster! He seemed very much pleased about the money, though it was meant for the priests and not for him. "The rooster is saying thank you," cried Take. "Hush," said her Mother.
One spirit takes the rooster, and with its wings cleans up the rubbish in the balaua and in the yard, empties it in a tray, and orders it taken from the village. In the same way all sickness and misfortune will be removed from the settlement. Several spirits follow, and as the morning wears on, the medium becomes more and more intense.
"Two evenings later I got a chance to speak a word with Miss Jessie alone on the porch while the colonel was thinking up another story. "'It's going to be a fine evening, says I. "'He's coming, says she. 'He's going to tell you, this time, the story about the old negro and the green watermelons. It always comes after the one about the Yankees and the game rooster.
The boys waved back, and John thought he could tell Ellen from her sister, and the night and its joy came back to him, and he was silent. They had ridden half an hour without speaking when Bob Hendricks said, "Awful fine girls aren't they?" "That's what I've always told you," returned John. After another quarter of a mile Bob tried it again. "The colonel's a funny old rooster isn't he?"
At times, I must admit, the strain has been very great. I have lost many a rooster, but those I have not lost are many, many more. Browned to a turn, and garnished with parsley, a rooster is almost a poem.
Sorry-looking rooster seems like he's lost all his friends on earth, and wa'n't jest sure where to find 'em in the next world." "I can't imagine who it would be. Let's see 'Lige Clark, he's dead; Dick Bellinger, Hank Baldwin, Jim Karr, Dave Keller, Bill Parr can't be none of them. What's his name?"
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