“Well, once,” said Sam, “once when a kitten fell down OUR cistern, Papa took a pair of his trousers, and he held 'em by the end of one leg, and let 'em hang down through the hole till the end of the other leg was in the water, and the kitten went and clawed hold of it, and he pulled it right up, easy as anything. Well, that's the way to do now, 'cause if a kitten could keep hold of a pair of trousers, I guess this ole cat could. It's the biggest cat _I_ ever saw! All you got to do is to go and ast your mother for a pair of your father's trousers, and we'll have this ole cat out o' there in no time.” Penrod glanced toward the house perplexedly. “She ain't home, and I'd be afraid to--” “Well, take your own, then,” Sam suggested briskly. “You take 'em off in the stable, and wait in there, and I and Herman'll get the cat out.” Penrod had no enthusiasm for this plan; but he affected to consider it. “Well, I don't know 'bout that,” he said, and then, after gazing attentively into the cistern and making some eye measurements of his knickerbockers, he shook his head. “They'd be too short. They wouldn't be NEAR long enough!” “Then neither would mine,” said Sam promptly. “Herman's would,” said Penrod. “No, suh!” Herman had recently been promoted to long trousers, and he expressed a strong disinclination to fall in with Penrod's idea. “My Mammy sit up late nights sewin' on 'ese britches fer me, makin' 'em outen of a pair o' pappy's, an' they mighty good britches. Ain' goin' have no wet cat climbin' up 'em! No, suh!” Both boys began to walk toward him argumentatively, while he moved slowly backward, shaking his head and denying them. “I don't keer how much you talk!” he said. “Mammy gave my OLE britches to Verman, an' 'ese here ones on'y britches I got now, an' I'm go' to keep 'em on me--not take 'em off an' let ole wet cat splosh all over 'em. My Mammy, she sewed 'em fer ME, I reckon--d'in' sew 'em fer no cat!” “Oh, PLEASE, come on, Herman!” Penrod begged pathetically. “You don't want to see the poor cat drown, do you?” “Mighty mean cat!” Herman said. “Bet' let 'at ole pussy-cat 'lone whur it is.” “Why, it'll only take a minute,” Sam urged. “You just wait inside the stable and you'll have 'em back on again before you could say 'Jack Robinson.'” “I ain' got no use to say no Jack Robason,” said Herman. “An' I ain' go' to han' over my britches fer NO cat!” “Listen here, Herman,” Penrod began pleadingly. “You can watch us every minute through the crack in the stable door, can't you? We ain't goin' to HURT 'em any, are we? You can see everything we do, can't you? Look at here, Herman: you know that little saw you said you wished it was yours, in the carpenter shop? Well, honest, if you'll just let us take your trousers till we get this poor ole cat out the cistern, I'll give you that little saw.” Herman was shaken; he yearned for the little saw. “You gimme her to keep?” he asked cautiously. “You gimme her befo' I han' over my britches?”