Penrod sighed, as if the task of reaching Roddy's mind with reason were too heavy for him. "Well, if you don't want to prove it, and rather let us have the right to call you anything we want to--well, all right, then," he said.
"You look out what you call me!" Roddy cried, only the more incensed, in spite of the pains Penrod was taking with him. "I don't haf to prove it. It's MINE!"
"What kind o' proof is that?" Sam Williams demanded severely.
"You GOT to prove it and you can't do it!"
Roddy began a reply, but his agitation was so great that what he said had not attained coherency when Penrod again intervened. He had just remembered something important.
"Oh, _I_ know, Roddy!" he exclaimed. "If you sell it, that'd prove it was yours almost as good as givin' it away. What'll you take for it?"
"I don't want to sell it," said Roddy sulkily.
"Yay! Yay! YAY!" shouted the taunting Sam Williams, whose every word and sound had now become almost unbearable to Master Bitts.
Sam was usually so good-natured that the only explanation of his conduct must lie in the fact that Roddy constitutionally got on his nerves. "He KNOWS he can't prove it! He's a goner, and now we can begin callin' him anything we can think of! I choose to call him one first, Penrod. Roddy, you're a--"
"Wait!" shouted Penrod, for he really believed Roddy's claims to be both moral and legal. When an uncle who does not even play upon an old second-hand horn wishes to get rid of that horn, and even complains of having it on his hands, it seems reasonable to consider that the horn becomes the property of a nephew who has gone to the trouble of carrying the undesired thing out of the house.
Penrod determined to deal fairly. The difference between this horn and the one in the "music-store" window seemed to him just about the difference between two and eighty-five. He drew forth the green bill from his pocket.
"Roddy," he said, "I'll give you two dollars for that horn."
Sam Williams's mouth fell open; he was silenced indeed. But for a moment, the confused and badgered Roddy was incredulous; he had not dreamed that Penrod possessed such a sum.
"Lemme take a look at that money!" he said.
If at first there had been in Roddy's mind a little doubt about his present rights of ownership, he had talked himself out of it.
Also, his financial supplies for the month were cut off, on account of the careless dog. Finally, he thought that the horn was worth about fifty cents.
"I'll do it, Penrod!" he said with decision.
Thereupon Penrod shouted aloud, prancing up and down the carriage-house with the horn. Roddy was happy, too, land mingled his voice with Penrod's.
"Hi! Hi! Hi!" shouted Roddy Bitts. "I'm goin' to buy me an air-gun down at Fox's hardware store!"
And he departed, galloping.
. . . He returned the following afternoon. School was over, and Penrod and Sam were again in the stable; Penrod "was practising" upon the horn, with Sam for an unenthusiastic spectator and auditor. Master Bitts' brow was heavy; he looked uneasy.
"Penrod," he began, "I got to--"
Penrod removed the horn briefly from his lips.
"Don't come bangin' around here and interrup' me all the time," he said severely. "I got to practice."
And he again pressed the mouthpiece to his lips. He was not of those whom importance makes gracious.
"Look here, Penrod," said Roddy, "I got to have that horn back."
Penrod lowered the horn quickly enough at this.
"What you talkin' about?" he demanded. "What you want to come bangin' around here for and--"
"I came around here for that horn," Master Bitts returned, and his manner was both dogged and apprehensive, the apprehension being more prevalent when he looked at Sam. "I got to have that horn," he said.
Sam, who had been sitting in the wheelbarrow, jumped up and began to dance triumphantly.
"Yay! It WASN'T his, after all! Roddy Bitts told a big l--"
"I never, either!" Roddy almost wailed.
"Well, what you want the horn back for?" the terrible Sam demanded.
"Well, 'cause I want it. I got a right to want it if I want to, haven't I?"
Penrod's face had flushed with indignation.
"You look here, Sam," he began hotly. "Didn't you hear Roddy say this was his horn?"
"He said it!" Sam declared. "He said it a million times!"
"Well, and didn't he sell this horn to me?"
"Yes, SIR!"
"Didn't I pay him money cash down for it?"
"Two dollars!"
"Well, and ain't it my horn now, Sam?"
"You bet you!"
"YES, sir!" Penrod went on with vigour. "It's my horn now whether it belonged to you or not, Roddy, because you SOLD it to me and I paid my good ole money for it. I guess a thing belongs to th`, person that paid their own money for it, doesn't it? _I_ don't haf to give up my own propaty, even if you did come on over here and told us a big l--"
"_I_ NEVER!" shouted Roddy. "It was my horn, too, and I didn't tell any such a thing!" He paused; then, reverting to his former manner, said stubbornly, "I got to have that horn back. I GOT to!"
"Why'n't you tell us what FOR, then?" Sam insisted.
Roddy's glance at this persecutor was one of anguish.
"I know my own biz'nuss!" he muttered.
And while Sam jeered, Roddy turned to Penrod desperately.
"You gimme that horn back! I got to have it."
But Penrod followed Sam's lead.
"Well, why can't you tell us what FOR?" he asked.
Perhaps if Sam had not been there, Roddy could have unbosomed himself. He had no doubt of his own virtue in this affair, and he was conscious that he had acted in good faith throughout--though, perhaps, a little impulsively. But he was in a predicament, and he knew that if he became more explicit, Sam could establish with undeniable logic those rights about which he had been so odious the day before. Such triumph for Sam was not within Roddy's power to contemplate; he felt that he would rather die, or sumpthing.
"I got to have that horn!" he reiterated woodenly.
Penrod had no intention to humour this preposterous boy, and it was only out of curiosity that he asked, "Well, if you want the horn back, where's the two dollars?"
