stopped packing only long enough to wire back, "Can't stop," and kept on
sending them. On the next train up from Franklin came one of the company's
inspectors. He had instructions to stop the stream of guinea-pigs at all
hazards. As his train drew up at Westcote station he saw a cattle car
standing on the express company's siding. When he reached the express
office he saw the express wagon backed up to the door. Six boys were
carrying bushel baskets full of guinea- pigs from the office and dumping
them into the wagon. Inside the room Flannery, with' his coat and vest
off, was shoveling guinea-pigs into bushel baskets with a coal scoop. He
was winding up the guinea-pig episode.

He looked up at the inspector with a snort of anger.

"Wan wagonload more an, I'll be quit of thim, an' niver will ye catch
Flannery wid no more foreign pigs on his hands. No, sur! They near was the
death o' me. Nixt toime I'll know that pigs of whaiver nationality is
domistic pets--an' go at the lowest rate. "

He began shoveling again rapidly, speaking quickly between breaths.

"Rules may be rules, but you can't fool Mike Flannery twice wid the same
thrick--whin ut comes to live stock, dang the rules. So long as Flannery
runs this expriss office--pigs is pets--an' cows is pets--an' horses is
pets--an' lions an' tigers an' Rocky Mountain goats is pets--an' the rate
on thim is twinty-foive cints."

He paused long enough to let one of the boys put an empty basket in the
place of the one he had just filled. There were only a few guinea-pigs
left. As he noted their limited number his natural habit of looking on the
bright side returned.