After Eugene had marched off to his boardin’ house, we all gathered around ol’ man Dort, an’ complimented him on his improved appearance, though to be strictly honest, the’ was considerable doubts about it. He had two teeth out in front, an’ the tobacco habit; and now, with no shrubbery to catch the spray, he spluttered terrible when he tried to talk fast. He said, though, that as long as he had started in he intended to take the full course, an’ was comin’ back, as soon as he’d had a bite to eat, to get his hair laundried an’ trimmed up some around the edges; an’ then he was goin’ to make that bet about the squirrels. It was some amusin’ to see the ol’ man get his hair sluiced out, but not near as much fun as seein’ him shaved. Whenever Eugene found any stray product, he’d call us all over an’ show it to us, an’ this riled the ol’ man up considerable; but the best joke was when Eugene found a woman’s hairpin. The ol’ man vowed an’ declared an’ carried on somethin’ fierce; but there was the hairpin, an’ we made him pay for three rounds on the strength of it. As soon as Eugene was all through, the ol’ man settled the bill, payin’ for a full day’s work like a regular sport, an’ not tryin’ to beg off at the ordinary retail price; and then he hardened his face an’ sez: “Now I bet you ten dollars, that you can’t bring forward a squirrel as big as my Ben Butler.” “I’ll take that bet,” sez Eugene, “but you got to give me time to locate a short-tailed grizzly. It’s the scarcest breed the’ is, an’ it’ll probably cost me twice the sum to get one, but I don’t care about that. What I want is to vindicate myself. I’d like to see that squirrel o’ yours.” “You come right along,” sez ol’ man Dort, glowin’ with pride. “I reckon when you see him, you’ll just hand over the money at once—That is, if you know anything at all about squirrels.” We all marched around to the general store, an’ ol’ man Dort pounded on the cage. When Ben Butler sat up an’ looked around to see what was up, the ol’ man waved his hand at him, looked down at Eugene, an’ sez: “Well?” He said it just like that: “Wu-el?” Ben Butler was rollin’ fat, an’ he certainly did look like some squirrel to us; but Eugene merely glanced at him, an’ sez: “Hum, what we call a dwarf red squirrel, up in Nova Scotia. They have tails, though, up there.” The ol’ man spluttered till we had to pound him on the back. “Dwarf?” he chokes out. “Dwarf! You produce a squirrel to match him, will ya, or else you pack up your truck an’ move on. I don’t intend to have no—” “See here, ol’ man,” sez Eugene, pointin’ a finger at him the same as if he’d been a naughty child. “A short-tailed grizzly ground-squirrel is from two to four times as big as this one, so if you want to sidestep the bet, you can do it; but if you want to have some show for your money, I bet you fifty to ten that I can get a squirrel three times as big as this one. I own up that for its kind, this squirrel is of fair, average growth; but—”