style="font-size:15px;"> Percy kept eating pancakes.
When he had eaten twenty plates the boss of the joint began to get interested.
Percy was certainly getting the biggest ten cents' worth I ever saw, when he stepped over and says:
"Don't you think you have had enough?"
"Just one more plate and then – " says Percy.
"Then what?" says the boss.
"Then you can tell the cook to make them a little bit thicker," says Percy.
I tried to chew my chicken, but couldn't get it down. I managed to catch the waiter on his fifteenth lap between the kitchen and Percy's plate, and says:
"Waiter, this chicken is awfully tough."
"Have some pancakes, then," says Percy. "They're good and come cheap."
"Well," says the waiter, "that chicken always was a Jonah. When we tried to kill it, the darned thing flew to the top of the house and we had to shoot it."
"Oh, that accounts for it," says I. "Your aim was bad and you shot the weather cock by mistake."
Percy finally got enough pancakes and paid his ten cents like a man.
We traveled along the road that leads from the hash house, and met a farmer with a gun.
"Say," says I, "have you seen anything worth shooting around here?"
"Not until you came," says he.
I don't blame him though.
Talking of shooting, I don't think I ever told you of the time I went shooting with Teddy.
Teddy is a great shot, but he can't compare with me. I'm going to sing you a song about it, entitled:
"Snap Shot, Half Shot, All Shot; or, It Costs Money To Get Loaded."
On the farms there's consternation,
And there's wide-spread agitation,
For the hunting season's opened up again.
In the paths and in the by-ways,
In the woods and in the highways,
There are packs of dogs and scores of shooting men.
Now and then a pig is squealing,
Or a hen or rooster keeling
Over suddenly in some sequestered spot.
Upon a close examination,
You may glean the information,
That by some lobster of a gunner it was shot.
Now and then a cow is snorting,
And around a field cavorting,
All because a load of shot has come its way.
Now and then a horse is rearing,
And in greatest pain appearing,
For it stopped another charge that went astray.
'Tis no wonder that the granger
Growls each time he sees a stranger,
Prowling through the woods and fooling with a gun;
For the shooting is alarming,
To the man who does the farming,
And he won't rest easy till the season's done.
That's a very fine song, I'll admit. Percy is just dead in love with it. He makes me sing it about ten times a day.
He says he can sympathize with the horses and cows, for he has "stopped many a charge that went astray" and knows how it feels.
We left the farmer with the gun, and Percy began to get woefully dry.
"Great Scott," says he, "I'd give almost anything for a drink of whiskey."
He spied an old gent with a kind face, tottering along the road.
"Just wait a minute," says Percy, "I'll see if that old gent carries a pocket flask."
So he went over and says:
"Kind sir, can you give a poor man who has heart trouble a drop of whiskey?"
"You should not drink that stuff," says the old man, "why do you do it?"
"Because I'm thirsty," says Percy.
"Then why don't you drink milk?" says he. "Milk, you know, makes blood."
"But," says Percy, "I'm not blood-thirsty."
"The doctors," continued the old man, "say that whiskey ruins the coat of the stomach. What would you do if that happened in your case?"
"I'd mighty soon make the darn thing work in its shirt-sleeves," says Percy.
We walked on and saw a farmhouse through the trees.
Percy went up to ask for some cold victuals and actually got the cold shoulder.
Then we struck the town of Freysburg. There's where poor Percy got fried to a rich, golden brown.
It happened this way.
We saw a large tent in which a revival meeting was going on.
"I'm going to take part," says Percy.
I tried to dissuade him, but it wouldn't go.
The deacon looked him over and says:
"Will the brother relate his experiences?"
I judged that Percy would have a very large contract on his hands, but he went at it like a man.
Everybody was shouting something, so every time Percy said anything, I shouted:
"Thank Heaven for that."
"Ladies and gentlemen," says he, "I've been a villain of the deepest dye."
"Thank Heaven for that," says I.
Percy looked at me and continued:
"Often I have felt tempted to commit suicide."
"Thank Heaven for that," says I.
"I'm heart and soul in the noble cause, but I'm penniless."
"Thank Heaven for that," says I.
Percy went on:
"I know that these noble men and women will raise a subscription to enable me to carry out my aims."
"Thank Heaven for that," says I.
Say, the way Percy got money surprised me.
Finally, we got clear of the tent and just sloped for it.
The next town a constable was waiting for us.
He spotted Percy right away.
"You're wanted for obtaining money under false pretenses," says he.
He
