on crutches. And how do you explain the pig? It looks like back-sliding to me.’
“‘Now, don’t be too hard on me, Jeff,’ says he. ‘You know how long I’ve been used to stealing shoats. It’s got to be a habit with me. And to-night, when I see such a fine chance, I couldn’t help takin’ it.’
“‘Well,’ says I, ‘maybe you’ve really got kleptopigia. And maybe when we get out of the pig belt you’ll turn your mind to higher and more remunerative misconduct. Why you should want to stain your soul with such a distasteful, feeble-minded, perverted, roaring beast as that I can’t understand.’
“‘Why, Jeff,’ says he, ‘you ain’t in sympathy with shoats. You don’t understand ’em like I do. This here seems to me to be an animal of more than common powers of ration and intelligence. He walked half across the room on his hind legs a while ago.’
“‘Well, I’m going back to bed,’ says I. ‘See if you can impress it upon your friend’s ideas of intelligence that he’s not to make so much noise.’
“‘He was hungry,’ says Rufe. ‘He’ll go to sleep and keep quiet now.’
“I always get up before breakfast and read the morning paper whenever I happen to be within the
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