the rest on the floor, and frequently cried "Tell
a worl'!" which he had learned from Bud and
could say with the uncanny pertinency of a par-
rot.

He had signified a desire to have Bud carry him
along the wall, where some lovely lumps of dirt pro-
truded temptingly over a bulging log. Then he
leaned and grabbed with his two fat hands at a
particularly big, hard lump. It came away in his
hands and fell plump on the blankets of the bunk,
half blinding Bud with the dust that came with
it.

"Hey! You'll have all the chinkin' out of the
dang shack, if you let him keep that lick up, Bud,"
Cash grumbled, lifting his eyebrows at the mess.

"Tell a worl'!" Lovin Child retorted over his
shoulder, and made another grab.

This time the thing he held resisted his baby
strength. He pulled and he grunted, he kicked Bud
in the chest and grabbed again. Bud was patient,
and let him fuss -- though in self-defense he kept
his head down and his eyes away from the expected
dust bath.

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