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Larry let his hands unclench and fall to his sides. "You've got the drop on me, Barney but you're a liar." "You bet I got the drop on you! And not only with my gun. I've got it on you about being a stool. Everybody knows you are a stool. And what's more, they know you are a squealer!" "A squealer!" Larry stiffened again. "A stool and a squealer!"

"Once upon a time, away up in an attic, so high that it made their fat old uncle puff to climb up to their dwelling, there lived a widow and her six children. Their father met a sad death a short time ago and so her children had to be very brave and work hard to help their dear mother." "Sniff! Sniff!" went Mother Graymouse behind her handkerchief. "Boo-hoo!" cried Baby Squealer.

"They'll have to send Wuff-Wuff, or Squealer. And maybe they'll get lost, the same as I did. Oh dear, I guess I won't squeal any more. It's bad enough for me to be lost, without any of my brothers or sisters getting lost, too." So Squinty stopped squealing, and walked on and on between the rows of corn, trying to find his way home to the pen all by himself.

At the same instant two feeble shrieks came from within the house. "Squealer and Squawker both went into the heap that time, I guess," said Rudolf. "I'm glad of it!" Ann cried. "I'd never help either of the horrid little things out again. Would you, sir?" she asked, turning politely to the Hare. "I dare say not," he answered, yawning. "That is, of course, unless I had particularly promised not to.

When Mother Graymouse, with Squealer and the twins, returned from making Granny Whiskers an afternoon call, she found Silver Ears and Buster setting the tea-table. "Where is Limpy-toes?" she asked. "He was here only a few minutes ago," said Silver Ears. Supper was ready and still Limpy-toes was missing. Mother Graymouse grew uneasy.

"Just as man to man," said Farwell, "let me ask you if you expected to run a dynamite monopoly?" "I'm not kicking," said Casey. "I'm merely stating facts. I can take my medicine." "You're a good deal of a man," Farwell acknowledged grudgingly. "I hate a squealer. Anyway, it was no part of their job to break into your house.

The sun was low down in the west now, and Mr. and Mrs. Pig knew it must be nearly time for their evening meal. "Come, Wuff-Wuff. Come, Squealer. Come, Squinty, and all the rest of you!" called Mrs. Pig in her grunting voice. "Come, get ready for supper. I think I hear the farmer coming with the nice sour milk!" "Squee! Squee! Squee!" squealed all the little pigs, for they were very hungry indeed.

There are some things I've learned never mind how that I wanted to slip you for your own good." "Go to it, Casey." "First, I've got a hunch that it was Barney Palmer who tipped off the police about Red Hannigan and Jack Rosenfeldt, and then spread it among all the crooks that you were the stool and squealer." "Yes, I'd guessed that much."

When the farmer picked him up, and dropped him down among his brothers and sisters, in the clean straw, Wuff-Wuff, Squealer, and Curly Tail, and the others, were so glad to see Squinty that they grunted, and squealed and walked all over one another, to be the first to get close to him. "Oh, Squinty, where were you?" "Where did you go?" "What did you do?" "Weren't you awfully scared?"

"I wonder how those young Giants manage to make such a racket?" grumbled Mother Graymouse. "I've been trying for an hour to rock Baby Squealer to sleep and the poor dear is wide awake now. Such a din, I've seldom heard." "It's their Christmas presents, Mammy," replied Silver Ears. "Ruth has a toy piano." "And Robert blows his new cornet and beats his drum," finished Limpy-toes.