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.
There came a vigorous rapping on the alley door of the stable, and Verman was admitted.
"Yay, Verman!" cried Sam Williams. "Come and look at our good ole panther!"
Another curiosity, however, claimed Verman's attention. His eyes opened wide, and he pointed at Herman's legs.
"Wha' ma' oo? Mammy hay oo hip ap hoe-woob."
"Mammy tell ME git 'at stove-wood?" Herman interpreted resentfully. "How'm I go' git 'at stove-wood when my britches down bottom 'at cistern, I like you answer ME please? You shet 'at do' behime you!"
Verman complied, and again pointing to his brother's legs, requested to be enlightened.
"Sin' I tole you once they down bottom 'at cistern," Herman shouted, much exasperated. "You wan' know how come so, you ast Sam Williams. He say thishere cat tuck an' th'owed 'em down there!"
Sam, who was busy rocking the cage, remained cheerfully absorbed in that occupation.
"Come look at our good ole panther, Verman," he called. "I'll get this circus-cage rockin' right good, an' then--"
"Wait a minute," said Penrod; "I got sumpthing I got to think about. Quit rockin' it! I guess I got a right to think about sumpthing without havin' to go deaf, haven't I?"
Having obtained the quiet so plaintively requested, he knit his brow and gazed intently upon Verman, then upon Herman, then upon Gipsy. Evidently his idea was fermenting. He broke the silence with a shout.
"_I_ know, Sam! I know what we'll do NOW! I just thought of it, and it's goin' to be sumpthing I bet there aren't any other boys in this town could do, because where would they get any good ole panther like we got, and Herman and Verman? And they'd haf to have a dog, too--and we got our good ole Dukie, I guess. I bet we have the greatest ole time this afternoon we ever had in our lives!"
His enthusiasm roused the warm interest of Sam--and Verman, though Herman, remaining cold and suspicious, asked for details.
"An' I like to hear if it's sump'm'," he concluded, "what's go' git me my britches back outen 'at cistern!"
"Well, it ain't exackly that," said Penrod. "It's different from that. What I'm thinkin' about, well, for us to have it the way it ought to be, so's you and Verman would look like natives--well, Verman ought to take off his britches, too."
"Mo!" said Verman, shaking his head violently. "Mo!"
"Well, wait a minute, can't you?" Sam Williams said. "Give Penrod a chance to say what he wants to, first, can't you? Go on, Penrod."
"Well, you know, Sam," said Penrod, turning to this sympathetic auditor; "you remember that movin'-pitcher show we went to, 'Fortygraphing Wild Animals in the Jungle'. Well, Herman wouldn't have to do a thing more to look like those natives we saw that the man called the 'beaters'. They were dressed just about like the way he is now, and if Verman--"
"MO!" said Verman.
"Oh, WAIT a minute, Verman!" Sam entreated. "Go on, Penrod."
"Well, we can make a mighty good jungle up in the loft," Penrod continued eagerly. "We can take that ole dead tree that's out in the alley and some branches, and I bet we could have the best jungle you ever saw. And then we'd fix up a kind of place in there for our panther, only, of course, we'd haf to keep him in the cage so's he wouldn't run away; but we'd pretend he was loose. And then you remember how they did with that calf? Well, we'd have Duke for the tied-up calf for the panther to come out and jump on, so they could fortygraph him. Herman can be the chief beater, and we'll let Verman be the other beaters, and I'll--"
"Yay!" shouted Sam Williams. "I'll be the fortygraph man!"
"No," said Penrod; "you be the one with the gun that guards the fortygraph man, because I'm the fortygraph man already. You can fix up a mighty good gun with this carpenter shop, Sam. We'11 make spears for our good ole beaters, too, and I'm goin' to make me a camera out o' that little starch-box and a bakin'-powder can that's goin' to be a mighty good ole camera. We can do lots more things--"
"Yay!" Sam cried. "Let's get started!" He paused. "Wait a minute, Penrod. Verman says he won't--"
"Well, he's got to!" said Penrod.
"I momp!" Verman insisted, almost distinctly.
They began to argue with him; but, for a time, Verman remained firm. They upheld the value of dramatic consistency, declaring that a beater dressed as completely as he was "wouldn't look like anything at all". He would "spoil the whole biznuss", they said, and they praised Herman for the faithful accuracy of his costume.
They also insisted that the garment in question was much too large for Verman, anyway, having been so recently worn by Herman and turned over to Verman with insufficient alteration, and they expressed surprise that "anybody with any sense" should make such a point of clinging to a misfit.
Herman sided against his brother in this controversy, perhaps because a certain loneliness, of which he was censcious, might be assuaged by the company of another trouserless person--or it may be that his motive was more sombre. Possibly he remembered that Verman's trousers were his own former property and might fit him in case the promise for five o'clock turned out badly. At all events, Verman finally yielded under great pressure, and consented to appear in the proper costume of the multitude of beaters it now became his duty to personify.
