Sure enough, there was the Tough Customer, hobbling along in a great hurry, trying to keep out of sight and going toward the old Murrell place. “Let him get in the house,” Jibby said, and then he opened the lid of his market-basket again and took out a green felt bag. He loosened the strings and a cat stuck its black-and-white head out of the bag. “Good old Orlando!” Jibby said, and stroked the cat’s head. He handed the bag to Wampus. “You carry the cat, Wampus,” he said, “and when I ask for it you hand it to me. Now, come on, and let’s hurry.” We did. We started up the road at a good clip, and when we reached the old Murrell place the Tough Customer was not in sight, but when we had stolen up to the house we heard a clatter of old boards and a yell, and we all piled into the cellar. The Tough Customer had stepped on the boards that covered Jibby’s elephant trap and they had tipped and fallen into the dry well and the Tough Customer had gone with them. He was swearing and jumping and trying to get out of the well, but it was too deep for him to get out without some one to pull him out or boost him out. When he saw us, he let loose all the language he could think of, and he told us all the things he would do to us if he ever got out of that hole. Jibby stood and looked down at him. “Wampus,” Jibby said, in his slow, drawling way, “hand me Orlando.” Wampus handed Jibby Jones the green felt bag. “Now, you boys had better get out of the cellar and, maybe, out of the house,” Jibby said, “because it may not be very pleasant when I put Orlando down the well. Orlando is hostile to men with wooden legs. Orlando don’t like wooden legs.” “Look here!” the Tough Customer begged, changing his tone in an instant. “You’re not going to dump that cussed animal down here, are you? Please don’t. Don’t you be so cruel to a feller that never did anybody any harm. Please! I’d rather be licked a dozen times than have that animal--” “Hurry, boys!” Jibby said. “There’s going to be a grand time here. I shouldn’t wonder if Orlando bit this man, too, besides other happenings.” Jibby opened the neck of the bag. “Wooden legs, Orlando!” he said, when the cat put its head out. “Look here!” the Tough Customer whined from down in the well. “Don’t do it! Don’t let that animal loose on me. I’ll give you-- I’ll give you anything you say.” [Illustration: SKIPPY AND I THREW AN END OF THE ROPE INTO THE WELL AND PULLED THE TOUGH CUSTOMER OUT] “Well, I don’t know,” Jibby said. “I sort of hate to miss the fun. But, I don’t know. I might be willing to dicker. How about a dollar? How about an 1804 dollar?” “I haven’t got--” the man began. “Scoot, boys!” Jibby shouted. “Here she goes! Sic him, Orlando!” “I’ll give it! I’ll give it!” the Tough Customer yelled, and--plunk!--on the hard dirt at Jibby’s feet the 1804 dollar fell. Jibby picked it up and looked at it. It was our dollar, right enough.