“Now listen here, Herman,” he said: “if you'll quit talkin' so much, and kind of get settled down or sumpthing, and help us fix a good cage for our panther, well, when mamma comes home about five o'clock, I'll go and tell her there's a poor boy got his britches burned up in a fire, and how he's waitin' out in the stable for some, and I'll tell her I promised him. Well, she'll give me a pair I wore for summer; honest she will, and you can put 'em on as quick as anything.” “There, Herman,” said Sam; “now you're all right again!” “WHO all right?” Herman complained. “I like feel sump'm' roun' my laigs befo' no five o'clock!” “Well, you're sure to get 'em by then,” Penrod promised. “It ain't winter yet, Herman. Come on and help saw these laths for the bars, Herman, and Sam and I'll nail 'em on. It ain't long till five o'clock, Herman, and then you'll just feel fine!” Herman was not convinced; but he found himself at a disadvantage in the argument. The question at issue seemed a vital one to him--and yet his two opponents evidently considered it of minor importance. Obviously, they felt that the promise for five o'clock had settled the whole matter conclusively; but to Herman this did not appear to be the fact. However, he helplessly suffered himself to be cajoled back into carpentry, though he was extremely ill at ease and talked a great deal of his misfortune. He shivered and grumbled, and, by his passionate urgings, compelled Penrod to go into the house so many times to see what time it was by the kitchen clock that both his companions almost lost patience with him. “There!” said Penrod, returning from performing this errand for the fourth time. “It's twenty minutes after three, and I'm not goin' in to look at that ole clock again if I haf to die for it! I never heard anybody make such a fuss in my life, and I'm gettin' tired of it. Must think we want to be all night fixin' this cage for our panther! If you ask me to go and see what time it is again, Herman, I'm a-goin' to take back about askin' mamma at five o'clock, and THEN where'll you be?” “Well, it seem like mighty long aft'noon to me,” Herman sighed. “I jes' like to know what time it is gettin' to be now!” “Look out!” Penrod warned him. “You heard what I was just tellin' you about how I'd take back--” “Nemmine,” Herman said hurriedly. “I wasn' astin' you. I jes' sayin' sump'm' kind o' to myse'f like.” CHAPTER XIV. CAMERA WORK IN THE JUNGLE The completed cage, with Gipsy behind the bars, framed a spectacle sufficiently thrilling and panther-like. Gipsy raved, “spat”, struck virulently at taunting fingers, turned on his wailing siren for minutes at a time, and he gave his imitation of a dromedary almost continuously. These phenomena could be intensified in picturesqueness, the boys discovered, by rocking the cage a little, tapping it with a hammer, or raking the bars with a stick. Altogether, Gipsy was having a lively afternoon.