“Well, we’re holdin’ a indignation meetin’ tomorrow night,” says Magpie. “We aims to protest openly against such practise. It ain’t ethical. You and Ike be there, will yuh? Up in the Mint Hall. The ladies auxiliary will be there, et cettery. We don’t wish for blood to be spilled. It’s ag’in our principles and regulations; but, by grab, they’ll go too far pretty soon--and have to get helped back.” The next day is kinda quiet in Piperock; but when Piperock is quiet she’s dangerous. Wick Smith ain’t at the store, and Mrs. Smith ain’t got much use for me and Dirty; so we keep away. After samplin’ some wobble water we pilgrims down to the livery-stable to see how Hassayampa is comin’. But we don’t find Hassayampa in charge. Wick Smith meets us at the door, and he looks as wise as a owl. “Whatcha want?” he asks. “Whatcha got?” asks Dirty. Wick clears his throat kinda hoarse-like. “I’ve got civic pride, by ----!” “You’ve showed it, Wick,” says I. “Uh-huh. If I had more sense and less pride I’d be better off. Hassayampa Harris hands me a bill for thirty-six dollars’ worth of feed--and I got so ---- full of pride that I kicked him out and took charge. “My ----, that elephant is jist like a hay-baler. Yuh can’t fill it up, I tell yuh. And he was feedin’ Cleo-patree meat! Can yuh beat that? Cleo-patree is the tiger. That son of a gun has cost me one hundred dollars per stripe.” “Wick,” says I, “wouldst be rid of ’em?” Wick looks at me for quite a while, spits painful-like and nods slowly. “Wouldst.” “I can get yuh a thousand dollars for the layout.” “Ike, I hope yuh ain’t lyin’ to me.” “C. O. D.,” says I. “That’s the joker,” says he kinda wailin’. “C. O. D., eh? How in ---- can yuh deliver a thing like these, I’d ask you? Half of Piperock is guardin’ this here stable. Over across the street is Pete Gonyer. Farther down the street is Mighty Jones, and up the other way is Olaf Hansen. One of them three has his eye on this place. They’re watchin’ to see that Paradise don’t come and take them things away. “And at night they’re guardin’ this place with sawed-off shotguns. They heard that Paradise was goin’ to take away the menagerie; that’s what they heard.” “It’s kinda easy to see why Paradise wants to shift the job to me and Dirty Shirt Jones,” says I. “Can’t yuh do as yuh want to with yore own animals?” “I can’t,” wails Wick. “Magpie got me drunk, Judge Steele wrote out a option--and I signed it. I can’t sell until thirty days after Labor Day. By that time I’ll be in the poor house.” “What do these here animals look like?” asks Dirty. Wick leads up back in the stable and makes us used to the dangdest lookin’ trio of animals I ever seen. Cleopatra is in a cage on wheels, and if there ever was a meaner-lookin’ tiger I’ve never seen it. She’s jist skin and bones and a big mouth full of teeth.