"Do I?" cried Tom. "Well, I guess. I don't do anything else." CHAPTER X. Home Again "And now," said the Lefthandiron as the Flamingo flew off and left them to themselves, "it strikes me that it is time we set about having some supper. I'm getting hungry, what with the excitement of that ride, and the fact I haven't eaten anything but a bowlful of kindling wood since yesterday morning." "I'm with you there," said Tom. "I've been hungry ever since we started and that snow on the moon whetted my appetite." "Never knew a boy who wasn't hungry on all occasions," puffed the Bellows. "Fact is, a boy wouldn't be a real boy unless he was hungry. Did you ever know a boy that would confess he'd had enough to eat, Pokey?" "Once," said Poker, "I wrote a poem about him, but I never could get it published. Want to hear it?" "Very much," said Tom. "Well, here goes," said the Poker anxiously, and he recited the following lines: THE WONDROUS STRIKE OF SAMMY DIKE. Young Sammy Dike was a likely boy Who lived somewhere in Illinois, His father was a blacksmith, and His Ma made pies for all the land. The pies were all so very fine That folks who sought them stood in line Before the shop of Dike & Co., 'Mid passing rain, in drifting snow, For fear they'd lose the tasty prize Of "Dike's new patent home-made pies." One day, alas, poor Mrs. Dike, Who with her pies had made the strike, By overwork fell very ill, And all her orders could not fill. So ill was she she could not bake One-half the pastry folks would take; And so her loving husband said He'd take her place and cook, instead Of making horse-shoes. Kindly Joe, To help his wife in time of woe! He worked by night, he worked by day-- Yet worked, alas, in his own way And made such pies, I've understood, As but a simple blacksmith could. He made them hard as iron bars; He made them tough as trolley cars. He seemed to think a pie's estate Was to be used as armor plate. And not a pie would he let go That had not stood the sledge's blow Upon the anvil in his sanctum, Whence naught went out until he'd spanked 'em. Result? With many alas and 'lack The pies Joe made they all came back. From folks who claimed they could not go The latest pies of Dike & Co. And here it was that Sammy came To help his parents in the game. "Can't eat 'em?" cried indignant Joe. "Can't eat 'em? Well, I want to know! Here, Sammy, show these people here How most unjust their plaint, my dear. Come, lad, and eat the luscious pies That I have made and they despise." Poor loyal Sammy then began Upon those stodgy pies--the plan Was very pleasing in his eyes, For Sammy loved his mother's pies. He nibbled one, he bit another, And then began to think of mother. He chewed and gnawed, he munched and bit,