clearly as words,
"There, where would you be without me?" Another defiant crow floated in
at the window.

The next moment the rushing and beating of wings began again, and down
the aisle went Uncle Bentley, the long tails of that coat fairly
floating like a cloud behind him. There was further uproar outside, and
Uncle Bentley was back in his place, this time turning around and
whispering hoarsely, "I fixed 'em!" But such was not the case, for twice
more the very same thing was repeated. The last time Uncle Bentley came
back he wore a calm, snug expression, as who should say, "Now I _have_
fixed 'em!" We should have liked it better if the roosters had fixed
Uncle Bentley. But nobody paid much attention except Deacon Plummer. The
thought occurred to him that perhaps Uncle Bentley had killed the fowls.
But he hadn't.

However, there was no more disturbance without, and after a time the
sermon closed. There was some sort of a special collection to be taken
up. Of course, Uncle Bentley always insisted on taking up all the
collections. He hopped up on this occasion and seized the plate with
more than usual vigor. His struggles with the roosters had evidently
stimulated him. He soon made the rounds and approached the table in
front of the pulpit to deposit his harvest. As he did so we saw to our
horror that the long tails of that ridiculous coat were violently
agitated. A sickening suspicion came over us. The next moment one of
those belligerent young roosters thrust a head out of either of those
coat-tail pockets. One uttered a raucous crow, the other made a vicious
dab. Uncle Bentley dropped the plate with a scattering of coin, seized a
coat skirt in each hand, and drew it front. This dumped both fowls out
on the floor, where they went at it hammer and tongs. What happened
after this is a blur in most of our memories. All that is certain is
that there was an uproar in the congregation, especially the younger
portion; that the Deacon began making unsuccessful dives for his
poultry; that the organist struck up "Onward, Christian Soldiers," and
that the minister waved us away without a benediction amid loud shouts
of, "Shoo!" "I swanny!" and, "Drat the pesky critters!" from your Uncle
Bentley.

Did it serve to subdue Uncle Bentley? Not in the least; he survived to
do worse things.

A SHINING MARK

BY IRONQUILL

A man came here from Idaho,
With lots of mining stock.
He brought along as specimens
A