It was one thing, they agreed, to be joint victims of hard luck; but it was quite another thing--and a deal harder to endure--to behold the author of their misfortunes jogging about the streets, wholly unpunished for his misdeeds. Step even had a gloomy notion that the dog was plumper than usual, which, if well founded, was higher tribute to the nourishing qualities of the looted chicken than to the prevalence of even-handed justice, to Step’s way of thinking. This view, confided to Poke, met ready acceptance. “Sure thing! And there ought to be something we could do about it,” observed Poke. “Oh, I’ll find a way to get even,” Step declared. “How?” “Oh, you wait, and you’ll see,” said Step darkly. Poke, as has been related, had leanings toward philosophy. Now he meditated briefly. “See here, Step!” he said. “If you’re going to get at this thing, you’d better get at it right. You ought to teach him a lesson.” “That’s just what I’ll do!” Poke shook his head. “No; you don’t get me. You’re thinking of letting drive a stone at him, or giving him a whipping, but what’d be the use? He wouldn’t know why you did it.” “Huh! Guess he would,” growled Step. “He wouldn’t,” Poke insisted. “That is, he wouldn’t unless you schemed out a way to remind him of the stolen rooster. There’s got to be something to make him see there’s a connection--get me?” Step sniffed contemptuously. “What you want me to do? Make him a speech or send him a letter about it?” “Neither,” quoth Poke calmly. “But unless you make him understand that he’s being punished for stealing, he’ll think you’re thrashing him out of pure meanness.” Step rubbed his chin. “I suppose that’s so,” he admitted. “But how can you work it? How can you make him understand? I’m weak on dog-lingo, myself.” Poke smiled, a little pityingly. “Listen, and I’ll tell you something I read the other day. There was a chap who owned a dog, and he was a bully dog, except that he would steal chickens. So the man tied a dead hen to his collar, and left it there till--well, till that dog didn’t want ever to see another one or get anywhere near it. And that’s my idea--something like it, anyway--for teaching the hound a lesson.” Step began to take interest. “Gee, but you have got an idea there! Only, if there’s anything left of the chicken he stole, we don’t know where to find it. And----” “Don’t need to!” Poke broke in. “Look here now! Say you’re dealing with chickens. What do you come to first?” “Hen-house,” said Step promptly. Poke frowned. “No, no! Wake up! You come first to the feathers.” “Oh, that way? Yes!” The frown vanished. “Exactly!” said Poke. “So, if we teach that dog to let feathers alone, he won’t bother many chickens--see?” Step’s manner was slightly skeptical. “Oh, that’s easy to talk about, but, practically, how are you going----”