"Why, I was only shooting at the drake," replied Jimson; "and I hit
it, too, for there it is in the water.
"That 's my wig, sir!" said Johnny Sprigg, "and you shall pay for it,
or I 'll have the law on you. Are you the man who shot the duck here
yesterday morning?"
"I am, sir," answered the little man, proud that he had shot something
besides a wig.
"Well, you shall pay for that also," said Mr. Sprigg; "for it belonged
to me, and I 'll have the money or I 'll put you in jail!"
The little man did not want to go to jail, so with a heavy heart he
paid for the wig and the duck, and then took his way sorrowfully
homeward.
He did not tell Joan of his meeting with Mr. Sprigg; he only said he
could not find a drake. But she knew all about it when the paper came
out, for this is what it said on the front page:
There was a little man and he had a little gun,
And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.
He shot Johnny Sprigg through the middle of his wig,
And knocked it right off from his head, head, head.
The little man was so angry at this, and at the laughter of all the
men he met, that he traded his gun off for a lawn-mower, and resolved
never to go hunting again.
He had the little duck he had shot made into a pie, and he and Joan
ate it; but he did not enjoy it very much.
"This duck cost me twelve dollars," he said to his loving wife, "for
that is the sum Johnny Sprigg made me pay; and it 's a very high price
for one little duck--do n't you think so, Joan?"
Hickory, Dickory, Dock
Hickory, Dickory, Dock
Hickory, Dickory, Dock!
The mouse ran up the clock.
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