"Trouble! Trouble!" cried Aunt Millie. "What are you doing?"
"Playin' cowboy!" was his answer. "I lasso rooster wif my rope, like
Teddy catches post."
"Oh, you mustn't do that!" cried Aunt Millie, as she ran after the
small boy and the dragging rooster.
"Cock-a doodle-do!" crowed the rooster, or, rather, it tried to crow
that way, but it would get only about half of it out and then Trouble
would pull the rope tight about the fowl's neck and the crow would be
shut off suddenly.
"Gid-dap, pony!" cried Baby William, trotting along on his short,
fat legs, making-believe, as he often did, that he was riding
horseback. "Gid-dap! I lasso a rooster, I did!"
"Yes, and you'll kill the poor thing if you're not careful," panted
Aunt Millie, as she raced after the little fellow and caught him.
Then she gently pulled the rooster to her by means of the rope, and
took it off the fowl's neck.
The rooster was bedraggled from having been dragged through the dust
and the dirt, and it was so dizzy from having been whirled around by
Trouble that it could hardly stand up.
Aunt Millie smoothed out its feathers and got it some water. The
rooster drank a little and seemed to feel better. Then it ran off to
join the other roosters and the cackling hens that had been watching
what Trouble did, doubtless wondering what had gotten into the
lassoed rooster to make it run around the way it did on the end of a
rope.
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