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"My, but yew kin git 'em, can't yew?" spoke Miss Abigail admiringly. "Them tew be the very ones I tried ter ketch all day yiste'day; I kin see as a fly-ketcher yew be a-goin' ter be wuth a farm ter me. Set deown an' try some o' this here strawberry presarve."
Then I hollered out: 'Go it ole, fly-ketcher you're as good for tad-poles as you is for bird-eggs' an' I lit out through the wood." Ozzie B. burst out crying: "Oh, Archie B., do you reckin the po' man got hurt?" Archie B. replied by kicking him in the ribs until he ceased crying. "Say yo' prayers now and go to sleep. I'll kick you m'se'f, but I'll lick anybody else that does it."
Bonaparte, watching his master, ran around the tree again and squatting on his stump of a tail grinned likewise. "A fly-ketcher," said Archie B. calmly, "is a sneaking sort of a bird, that ketches flies an' little helpless insects for a mill, maybe. Do you know any two-legged fly-ketchers a-doin' that?"
"Yes," said Archie B., "an' I also know a fly-ketcher will whip a wood-pecker and take his nes' from him, an' I've come up here to see if it's so with this one." "Oh," said Jud, surprised, "an' what is it?" "Jus' as I said he's whipped the wood-pecker an' tuck his nes'." "What's a fly-ketcher, Mister Know-It-All?" said Jud. Then he grinned derisively.
Then he saw Archie B. up the road toward home, rolling in the sand with shouts of laughter. "If I git my hands on you," yelled Jud, shaking his fist at the boy, "I'll swaller you alive." "That's what the fly-ketcher said to the butterfly," shouted back Archie B. It was a half hour before Jud got all the fine eggshell out of his eyes.
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