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Dey vill preak dare little necks. Joost see how dey run! But de tog is de pest runner of dem poys, egsept de vootchuck." Mr. Hamburger did not run. Nobody had ever seen him do any such thing as that. But he walked on across the pasture-lot, toward the deep ravine that cut through the side of the hill to the valley.
Bow-wow-yow-yelp! and Mart shouted: "There he goes!" "Hi! We'll get him!" screamed Abe. "Take him, Quib! Take him!" Quib had started a woodchuck. There was never a stone-heap piled up that had room in it for both a dog and a woodchuck. Mr. Hamburger took the pipe out of his mouth, which was a thing nobody could remember ever having seen him do. "Dose poys! Dat vootchuck! De tog is a goot von.
"Vootchuck! Dat's it! Ant so you puts a tog into mein stone-heap, and you steps onto mein grass, ant you knock ober all mein beautiful mullein-stalks and mein thistles and mein scoke-veeds!" Puff! puff! came the great clouds of smoke from the grim lips of the old German, but it struck Cole Thomas that Mr. Hamburger himself was on the watch for that woodchuck.
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