nipped their tails, when insects preyed upon their eyes, and they dripped
with the sweat of joyful toil; then, presently, the friends stretched out
upon the bank, weary and replete.

"Say, bo," said Ringtail, after a restful pause, "what do yer say to a
nip?"

"A nip?" asked Omar Ben in astonishment. "What kind of a nip?"

"W'y, a catnip, yer bloomin' bladderskite! Wot did yer t'ink I meant--a
cornder of de moon? I'm talkin' 'bout jes' straight catnip. Are you on?"

"Yes, certainly," returned the Persian gravely. "I am on!"

On the homeward way they turned into a lane and came to a clump of
catnip. True, Omar Ben had tasted the herb before, but dry and in
five-cent packages, which was different from the pure article direct from
nature's still and exuding its sharp, intoxicating breath. Pete and Omar
fell upon it greedily, rolled upon it, wallowed among the scattered
leaves, and chewed and chewed till their senses swam in a spirit-dance of
ecstasy. Then, after a nap, the two reeled homeward down the road, Pete
smiling his twisted smile, and Omar Ben Sufi wrapped in the comforting
belief that he was singing tunefully.

"Say, R.T.," the Persian chuckled happily, "what did you say was the name
of your lady friend's other lady friend?"

"Lizzie," answered Ringtail, astounded at the tone of familiarity; "an'
take it from me she's white!"