your hat with my sword, and your hat's just the same as you."

"Imm mop!" Verman insisted.

"Yes, it is," said Sam, already warmly convinced (by his own
statement) that he was in the right. "Listen here! If I hit you
on the shoe, it would be the same as hitting YOU, wouldn't it? I
guess it'd count if I hit you on the shoe, wouldn't it? Well, a
hat's just the same as shoes. Honest, that's the rule, Verman,
and you're a pris'ner."

Now, in the arguing part of the game, Verman's impediment
cooperated with a native amiability to render him far less
effective than in the actual combat. He chuckled, and ceded the
point.

"Aw wi," he said, and cheerfully followed his captor to a hidden
place among some bushes in the front yard, where Penrod lurked.

"Looky what _I_ got!" Sam said importantly, pushing his captive
into this retreat. "NOW, I guess you won't say I'm not so much
use any more! Squat down, Verman, so's they can't see you if
they're huntin' for us. That's one o' the rules--honest. You got
to squat when we tell you to."

Verman was agreeable. He squatted, and then began to laugh
uproariously.

"Stop that noise!" Penrod commanded. "You want to bekray us? What
you laughin' at?"