“Mebbe Mr. Harvey hurt him some time—­do bad with him,” added the Indian, betraying an evident interest in the subject.

“Begorrah, if yees can’t talk better sinse nor that, ye’d bist put a stopper on yer blab.  The idaa of me master harming any one is too imposterous to be intertained by a fraa and inlightened people—­a fraa and inlightened people, as I used to spell out in the newspapers at home.  But whisht!  Ye are a savage, as don’t know anything about Fourth of July, an’ all the other affections of the people.”

“You dunno what mebbe he done.”

“Do ye know?” asked Teddy, indignantly.

“Nebber know what he do—­how me know?”

“Thin what does ye mane by talking in that shtyle?  I warns ye, there’s some things that can’t be passed atween us and that is one of ’em.  If ye wants to fight, jist you say that again.  I’m aching for a shindy anyhow:  so now s’pose ye jist say that again.”  And Teddy began to show unmistakable signs of getting ready.

“Sorry—­didn’t mean—­feel bad.”  “Oh blarney!  Why didn’t ye stick to it, and jist give me a chance to express meself?  But all’s right; only, be careful and don’t say anything like it again, that’s all.  Pass along the jug, to wash me timper down, ye know.”

By this time Teddy’s ideas were beginning to be confused, and his manner maudlin.  He had imbibed freely, and was paying the consequences.  The savage, however, had scarcely taken a swallow, although he had made as if to do so several times.  His actions would have led an inexperienced person to think that he was under the influence of liquor; but he was sober, and his conduct was feigned, evidently, for some purpose of his own.  Teddy grew boisterous, and insisted on constantly shaking hands and renewing his pledges of eternal friendship to the savage, who received and responded to them in turn.  Finally, he squinted toward the westering sun.

“I told Mr. Harvey, when I left, I was going to hunt, and if I expects to return to-day, I thinks, Mr. Black Walnut, we should be on our way.  The jug is intirely impty, so there is no occasion for us to remain longer.”

“Dat so—­me leave him here.”

“Now let’s shake hands agin afore we rise.”

The shaking of hands was all an excuse for Teddy to receive assistance in rising to his feet.  He balanced himself a moment, and stared around him, with that aimless, blinking stare peculiar to a drunken man.

“Me honey, isn’t there an airthquake agitatin’ this solitude?” he asked, steadying himself against a sapling, “or am I standing on a jug?”

“Dunno—­mebbe woods shake—­feel him a little—­earth must be sick,” said the savage, feigning an unsteadiness of the head.

“Begorrah, but it’s ourselves that’s the sickest,” laughed Teddy, fully sensible of his sad condition.  “It’ll niver do to return to Master Harvey in this shtyle.  There’d be a committee of investigation appointed on the spot, an’ I shouldn’t pass muster excipt for a whisky-barrel, och hone!”