“No stones on them ,” Ernie gestures to the lane, “Hope the Judge don’t find out or i know what we’ll be doing.”
“Won’t say a thing,” Gregg reassures us.
“That’s a releif,” I say, “But this is sure in the Outback.”
“To find the elusive Snippee, you have to look in obscure places,” the Weenerman says mysterously.
The Buck Truck jars its way thru the high country.
On one especially notorious jolt, Gregg is heard to comment, “Didn’t spend too many dollars much on the shocks did you,”
I shrug, ‘That’s why I call it the Buck Truck.”
Then any different animal trails seem to converge at one point just under the crest of a hill.
“Aha, just where I knew it would be,” the Weener-man announces. “Saw it from the top of the tree, er, on the topographic maps.”
“Ah-Ha! We are here!” the Wiley-man announces, then kicks open the door and hops out, “Gregg, Ernie,” he points tothe convergance of trails, “I want the Population Survey Apparatus, there.”
“Poopulation surrey app?” Enie wonders from where he rides in the bed of the Buck Truck.
“He says to put the crate there,” Gregg McIntyre translates, then Gregg grunts, “Get over here, this here Crate weighs a ton.”
I sloide out of the Buck Truck and grab a side.
“Where’s the Weener?” Ernie puffs from the end.
“I think he’s out scouting for Snippee’s making sure we don’t scare any of them off,” I grind out.
Once we get the crate out, the Weenerman shows up carryuing a stick, “Try shifting the box over there,” the Weener pointse to aspot three foot away, “With the Wiley Snippee’s, you have to be precise.”