"You give that back here, or I'll murder yuh!" a full-throated young
voice cried hoarsely.

"Here, quit yore kickin'!" Bill admonished.

"Go on, Bud; the boys have got to hear it--it's _rich_!"

"Yeh--shut up, Johnny! Po'try is wrote to be read--go on, Bud. Start
'er over again. I never got to hear half of it on account of Johnny's
cussin'. Go on--I got him chewin' on my hat now. Read 'er from the
start-off."

"The best is yet to come," Bill gloated pantingly, while he held the
author's legs much as he would hold down a yearling. "All set, Bud--let
'er go!"

Whereupon Bud cleared his throat and began again, rolling the words out
sonorously, so that Mary V heard every word distinctly:

"'Before I die, I'll ride the sky;
I'll part the clouds like foam.
I'll brand each star with the Rolling R,
And lead the Great Bear home.'"

"Say, that's _swell_!" a little fellow they called Curley interjected.
"By gosh, that's darned good po'try! I never knowed Johnny could--"

He was frowned into silence by the reader, who went on exuberantly, the
lines punctuated by profane gurgles from the author.