"Will you be quiet, you cackling old hens?" roared Mr. Rooster, giving them a swift glance from one eye, while furtively watching me with the other. "What business is it of yours what the intentions of this intrusive person may be? I am the one to decide that question. What do females know about war, anyway, especially hens? If she means fight, why----" "You'll run, no doubt, and hide behind your wives," I interrupted, feeling the old fellow to be a boaster. "I've a notion to scale the fence and see," I added mischievously. He stepped back a pace or two in evident alarm. "Never fear," I hastened to say. "Only cowardly hearts find pleasure in giving pain to innocent and defenseless creatures. My only object in stopping was to view your happy family and--and--in fact, Mr. Rooster, to interview yourself." "Interview me?" he exclaimed. "Well, I never!" and filled with a sense of his importance the old fellow set up such a crowing that even a Jersey cow, munching grass by the wayside, paused to ruminate over what it might mean. "A reporter," sneered the ill-natured young hen. "A woman reporter! How unnatural!" "Louisa Mercedes," sharply cried the rooster, "how many times have I told you to bridle your tongue?" "I'm not a horse," sulkily replied Louisa, "and what's more, I think if you would bridle your vanity it would be much more to your advantage. You want to do all the talking--and eating, too," she added in an undertone. "She's but a young thing," loftily said Mr. Rooster, "and I have to overlook much of her insolence, you know. Another year will find her less spirited, like Georgiana and Marthena and Sukey over there. But let us resume our conversation. About what do you want to interview me?" "First, I should like to know--why, do you intend to come out?" I interrupted as he moved nearer the fence. "Oh, no; but it's just as well that the women folks don't hear all we have to say. They have such a disagreeable fashion of contradicting, you know, and such good memories, that when you're least expecting it up they'll drag some remark made months ago to clinch an argument against you. Females are such queer creatures--but I beg your pardon," he added apologetically, remembering my sex. "I forgot." "How many wives have you?" I queried, beginning the interview. "Well," marking with his claws in the sand as he named over Louisa Mercedes, Cassie, Maud, and a number of others. "I have, as near as I can figure it, about nine now." "Now?" I repeated.