"There!" he said. "That'll do to put
it in. It won't get out o' that, I bet you."
"Well, I'd like to know what you want to keep it for," Sam said
peevishly, and, with the suggestion of a sneer, he added, "I
s'pose you think somebody'll pay about a hunderd dollars reward
or something, on account of a cat!"
"I don't, either!" Penrod protested hotly. "I know what I'm
doin', I tell you."
"Well, what on earth--"
"I'll tell you some day, won't I?" Penrod cried. "I got my
reasons for wantin' to keep this cat, and I'm goin' to keep it.
YOU don't haf to ke--"
"Well, all right," Sam said shortly. "Anyways, it'll be dead if
you don't hurry."
"It won't, either," Penrod returned, kneeling and peering down
upon the dark water. "Listen to him! He's growlin' and spittin'
away like anything! It takes a mighty fine-blooded cat to be as
fierce as that. I bet you most cats would 'a' given up and
drowned long ago. The water's awful cold, and I expect he was
perty supprised when he lit in it."
"Herman's makin' a fuss again," Sam said. "We better get the ole
cat out o' there if we're goin' to.
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