'See here, Dick,' he continued smartly, 'the Cow Flat chaps made a raid last night, an' took Butts an' three others--mine among 'em.' This was an important matter.

Butts was Dick's big grey billygoat, the best goat in harness the boys had ever known or ever heard of; and the 'Cow Flat chaps' were the boys of a small centre about two miles and a half further down the creek, between whom and the boys of Waddy there existed an interminable feud that led them to fight on sight, and steal such of each other's possessions as could be easily and expeditiously removed.

Dick's excitement soon evaporated; evidently root smoking was conducive to a philosophical frame of mind.
'We'll get them back all right--after,' he said.
'They'll work Butts to a shadder,' Jacker remarked insinuatingly.
'Then we'll go down some night, an' strip Amson's garden.' Amson was a prominent resident of Cow Flat, and had nothing whatever to do with the goat raid, but the boyish sense of justice does not stoop to find distinctions.
Jacker Mack had another string to his bow.

'They say Harry Hardy's comin' home this week,' he said.
'No!' cried Dick, much moved.

'Who says ?' 'Gable says.' 'Pooh! Gable's a kid.' 'No matter, it's true.