yelling. At first the dogs showed no interest. They thought they merely
saw three men in a buggy--a matter of no consequence; but when they found
out the facts of the case, they altered their opinion pretty radically,
and joined the boys, expressing their minds as they came. Other dogs got
interested; indeed, all the dogs. It was a spirited sight to see them
come leaping fences, tearing around corners, swarming out of every
bystreet and alley. The noise they made was something beyond belief
--or praise. They did not seem to be moved by malice but only by
prejudice, the common human prejudice against lack of conformity. If the
twins turned their heads, they broke and fled in every direction, but
stopped at a safe distance and faced about; and then formed and came on
again as soon as the strangers showed them their back. Negroes and
farmers' wives took to the woods when the buggy came upon them suddenly,
and altogether the drive was pleasant and animated, and a refreshment all
around.

[It was a long and lively drive. Angelo was a Methodist, Luigi was
a Free-thinker. The judge was very proud of his Freethinkers'
Society, which was flourishing along in a most prosperous way and
already had two members--himself and the obscure and neglected
Pudd'nhead Wilson. It was to meet that evening, and he invited
Luigi to join; a thing which Luigi was glad to do, partly because it
would please himself, and partly because it would gravel Angelo.]

They had now arrived at the widow's gate, and the excursion was ended.
The twins politely expressed their obligations for the pleasant outing
which had been afforded them; to which the judge bowed his thanks,
and then said he would now go and arrange for the Free-thinkers' meeting,
and would call for Count Luigi in the evening.