"The thing that hit does," Archie B. explained to his timid and pious twin brother, Ozzie B., "is ter make anything it touches that wears hair git up and git." Coons, possums, dogs, cats--with now and then a country horse or mule, hitched to the town rack--with these, and a small vial of Gypsy Juice, Archie B., as he expressed it, "had mo' fun to the square inch than ole Barnum's show ever hilt in all its tents." Jud stood a moment watching the boy. It was easy to see what Archie B. was after. In the body of the dead tree a wood-pecker had chiseled out a round hole. "Hello, yo'se'f"--finally drawled Jud--"whatcher doin' up thar?" "Why, I am goin' to see if this is a wood-pecker's nes' or a fly-ketcher's." Bonaparte caught his cue at once and ran to the foot of the tree barking viciously, daring the tree-climber to come down. His vicious eyes danced gleefully. He looked at his master between his snarls as much as to say: "Well, this is great, to tree the real live son of the all-conquering man!" It maddened him, too, to see the supreme indifference with which the all-conqueror's son treated his presence. Jud grunted. He prided himself on his bird-lore. Finally he said: "Wal, any fool could tell you--it's a wood-pecker's nest." "Yes, that's so and jus' exacly what a fool 'ud say," came back from the tree. "But it 'ud be because he is a fool, tho', an' don't see things as they be. It's a fly-ketcher's nest, for all that--" he added. "Teach yo' gran'-mammy how to milk the house cat," sneered Jud, while Bonaparte grew furious again with this added insult. "Don't you know a wood-pecker's nest when you see it?" "Yes," said Archie B., "an' I also know a fly-ketcher will whip a wood-pecker and take his nes' from him, an' I've come up here to see if it's so with this one." "Oh," said Jud, surprised, "an' what is it?" "Jus' as I said--he's whipped the wood-pecker an' tuck his nes'." "What's a fly-ketcher, Mister Know-It-All?" said Jud. Then he grinned derisively. Bonaparte, watching his master, ran around the tree again and squatting on his stump of a tail grinned likewise. "A fly-ketcher," said Archie B. calmly, "is a sneaking sort of a bird, that ketches flies an' little helpless insects for a--mill, maybe. Do you know any two-legged fly-ketchers a-doin' that?" Jud glared at him, and Bonaparte grew so angry that he snapped viciously at the bark of the tree as if he would tear it down. "What do you mean, you little imp?--what mill?" "Why his stomach," drawled Archie B., "it's a little differunt from a cotton-mill, but it grinds 'em to death all the same." Jud looked up again. He glared at Archie B. "How do you know that's a fly-ketcher's nest and not a wood-pecker's, then?" he asked, to change the subject. "That's what I'd like to know, too," said Bonaparte as plainly as his growls and two mean eyes could say it.