COCKLE BURR, THE ROUGH-NECK 125 



I could see, and at last, after many unsuccessful at- 

 tempts, I did land on old Shep's front leg, and hung 

 on for dear life. Say, of all the places I have ever 

 heard of, that was the worst. Shep and I were both 

 choking for air, and it wasn't long until Shep made a 

 dash for the little open ditch that runs through the 

 old field. 



"Well, in the water we went head over heels, and, 

 believe me, it was the most wonderful change that 

 can be imagined. While lying there in the cool 

 water, Shep reached down and got hold of me with 

 his teeth, pulled me off, and sent me adrift down 

 the open ditch into the tile ditch of Farmer John- 

 son's field and here I am now after a few days' soak- 

 ing up which makes a fellow feel good." 



After floating down this dark underground pas- 

 sageway, he emerged one evening from the mouth 

 of the tile ditch and floated out into the little creek 

 in the edge of the woods, lodging against a drift of 

 branches and leaves along the bank. While he was 

 lying there meditating on what would happen next, 

 Bobby Coon came out on the drift looking for cray- 

 fish, and as he reached down in the water for an 

 especially nice one, Cockle Burr grabbed hold of 

 Bobby's fro-nt leg. Bobby had quite an evening of 

 it there on the drift eating crayfish, but decided that 



