"Did you take that chicken out of my poultry-house?"

"Not exactly, but it's the same thing. We knew about it and helped
eat it."

"Was it tender?" asked the farmer.

"No, sir, it was the toughest thing I ever put in my mouth."

"I thought so. Why, that rooster was a regular antique. He must have
been a hundred years old. Next time you want a chicken for a late
supper, better let me choose it for you. Who helped you eat that
rooster?"

"Please don't ask us that. We'll tell you anything about ourselves,
but we can't give him away."

"Wouldn't think much of you if you did. No need of it anyhow. I know
who it was."

"He must have told you then, for we haven't told anybody."

"Do you remember that while you were cooking that rooster out in my
woods, Steve Daly, your companion, said he heard somebody in the
bushes and you said it was only a dog?"

"Yes, I remember it. I did say that."

"Well, I was that dog!"