say. What's dyed in the wool can't be washed out, as took as Bumpus here
with his carroty hair."

"You leave my hair alone, Davy Jones, and pay attention to your own
business," complained the stout scout, aggressively. "You just know
you're a going to get it when Thad makes his report, and you're trying
to draw attention somewhere else. Make me think of what I read about
the pearl divers when they see an old hungry man-eating shark waiting
above 'em; they stir up the sand with the sharp-pointed stick they
carry; and when the water gets foggy they swim away without the fish
being able to see 'em. And you're atrying right now to befog the real
case, which is, did you really see anything, or get scared at your own
shadow."

"Hear! Hear!" crowed Giraffe, who always liked to see Bumpus aroused,
and when this occurred he often made out to back him up with approval,
just as some boys would sick one dog on another, or tempt rival roosters
to come to a "scrap."

"You fellow's let up, and watch what Thad's agoin' to do," Step Hen
advised them at that juncture; and so for the time being Davy and Bumpus
forgot their complaint and riveted their eyes on the boy who was up in
the tree.

"I can't hardly see him any more, the branches are so thick," complained
Bumpus ducking his head this way and that.

"That's because he's gone on again," argued Giraffe; "seems like he
didn't find any signs of a real panther when he took that survey."