"Suppose you tell us about it then," suggested Arthur, a little wickedly,
for he had, in truth, a pretty fair idea concerning its nature.

"Why," proceeded Billy, hastily, "it seems they discovered a flock of
goats in a cave, and the donkey suggested that he disguise himself
with an old lion skin they found, and go in to scare the goats out,
when the lion standing by the exit could kill the game. When he had
hee-hawed and kicked up such a rumpus that the poor goats dashed out,
to meet their fate at the exit, the donkey finally came along and
proudly asked the lion what he thought of his antics. 'Splendid,'
said the lion, or something like that, and I guess you'd have frightened
me, too, if I hadn't known you were only a donkey!"

Monkey Stallings hardly knew whether that, was intended for a compliment
or not, but he laughed because the others did.

"All the same I had the longest pole that knocked down the persimmons,"
he asserted. "I gave that bunch the biggest scare of their lives.
The way is clear for us now, and, thank goodness, we won't have to
sleep under the same roof with that greasy pair of rascals, and, after
all; that was the end in view."

"Monkey," said Arthur, "you've put us all under heavy obligations by
what you did, and for one I'm not going to forget it, or twit you about
the funny noises you manage to coax out of that bone goose-call you
made. The end justifies the means, is what I say every time. Now,
what's next on the programme, Hugh?"

"Well, since we've met the enemy and won the fight," laughed the other,
"I should say our best move would be to occupy the abandoned works.