You got to squat when we tell you to." Verman was agreeable. He squatted, and then began to laugh uproariously. "Stop that noise!" Penrod commanded. "You want to betray us? What you laughin' at?" "Ep mack im mimmup," Verman giggled. "What's he mean?" Sam asked. Penrod was more familiar with Verman's utterance, and he interpreted. "He says they'll get him back in a minute." "No, they won't.

I got sumpthing just SPLENDUD for you to do!" Verman's expression hardened; he shook his head decisively. "Mo," he said. "Oh, COME on, Verman?" Penrod pleaded. "It isn't anything goin' to HURT you, is it? I tell you it's sumpthing you'd give a good deal to GET to do, if you knew what it is." "Mo!" said Verman firmly. "I mome maw woo!" Penrod offered arguments. "Look, Verman!" he said.

Herman sided against his brother in this controversy, perhaps because a certain loneliness, of which he was censcious, might be assuaged by the company of another trouserless person or it may be that his motive was more sombre. Possibly he remembered that Verman's trousers were his own former property and might fit him in case the promise for five o'clock turned out badly.

The result produced by the glare of Rupe's unfamiliar eyes, and by the dreadfully suggestive proximity of Rupe's unfamiliar nose, was altogether different. Herman's and Verman's Bangala great-grandfathers never considered people of their own jungle neighbourhood proper material for a meal, but they looked upon strangers especially truculent strangers as distinctly edible.

But if they had understood him, Penrod and Sam might have considered his inquiry of instant importance, for Herman's last shout was to ask if either of them had noticed "where Verman went." Verman and Verman's whereabouts were, at this hour, of no more concern to Sam and Penrod than was the other side of the moon.

You don't expeck me to go round here all day workin' like a dog to make a good ole snake for you and then give you a bag o' peanuts to hire you to play with it, do you, Verman? My goodness!" Verman's hand fell, with a little disappointment. "Aw wi," he said, consenting to accept the snake without the bonus. "That's the boy!

Further than this point, the processes of Verman's mind become mysterious to the observer. These footsteps were Margaret's. Just as Mr. Schofield's coffee was brought, and just after Penrod had been baffled in another attempt to leave the table, Margaret rose and patted her father impertinently upon the head. "You can't bully ME that way!" she said.

On account of a previous experience not unconnected with cats, and likely to prejudice Verman, Penrod decided to postpone mentioning Mrs. Williams's pet until he should have secured Verman's cooperation in the enterprise irretrievably. "All you got to do," he went on, "is to chase this good ole snake around, and sort o' laugh and keep pokin' it with the handle o' that rake yonder.

In her hand was a lath, and, even as Herman turned, it was again wielded, this time upon Verman. "Yes; you bettuh holler, 'Mammy!" she panted. "My goo'ness, if yo' pappy don' lam you to-night! Ain' you got no mo' sense 'an to let white boys 'suede you play you Affikin heathums? Whah you britches?" "Yonnuh Verman's," quavered Herman. "Whah y'own?"

Another curiosity, however, claimed Verman's attention. His eyes opened wide, and he pointed at Herman's legs. "Wha' ma' oo? Mammy hay oo hip ap hoe-woob." "Mammy tell ME git 'at stove-wood?" Herman interpreted resentfully. "How'm I go' git 'at stove-wood when my britches down bottom 'at cistern, I like you answer ME please? You shet 'at do' behime you!"