It ran right toward me, and I naturally jumped, as anybody would,
but I am not afraid of mice, and when the horrid thing ran up inside the
leg of my pantaloons, I yelled to Maria because I was afraid it would gnaw
a hole in my garment. There is something real disagreeable about having a
mouse inside the leg of one's pantaloons, especially if there is nothing
between you and the mouse. Its toes are cold, and its nails are scratchy,
and its fur tickles, and its tail feels crawly, and there is nothing
pleasant about it, and you are all the time afraid it will try to gnaw out,
and begin on you instead of on the cloth. That mouse was next to me. I
could feel its every motion with startling and suggestive distinctness. For
these reasons I yelled to Maria, and as the case seemed urgent to me I may
have yelled with a certain degree of vigour; but I deny that I yelled fire,
and if I catch the boy who thought that I did, I shall inflict punishment
on his person.
I did not lose my presence of mind for an instant. I caught the mouse just
as it was clambering over my knee, and by pressing firmly on the outside of
the cloth, I kept the animal a prisoner on the inside.
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