"I think," said Jericho Bob, "we'd better ketch 'im; to-morrow's Thanksgiving. Yum!"
And he looked with great joy at the innocent, the unsuspecting fowl.
"Butcher Tham 'th goin' to kill 'im for uth," Julius Caesar hastened to say, "an' I kin cook 'im."
"No, you ain't. I'm going to cook 'im," Jericho Bob cried, resentfully. "He's mine."
"He ain'th; he'th mine."
"He was my egg," and Jericho Bob danced defiance at his friend.
The turkey looked on with some surprise, and he became alarmed when he saw his foster-fathers clasped in an embrace more of anger than of love.
"I'll eat 'im all alone!" Jericho Bob cried.
"No, yes sha'n't!" the other shouted.
The turkey shrieked in terror, and fled in a circle about the yard.
"Now, look yere," said Julius Caesar, who had conquered. "We're goin' to be squar'. He wath your egg, but who brought 'im up? Me! Who'th got a friend to kill
