“You’s gone an everlastin’ while.  S’pose you hardly know the place, it’s changed so.”

“It has changed some,” he answered to this; “its bar-room loafers are a good deal more unendurable, and its fools, always large, have increased in size.”

A good-natured laugh welcomed this reply.

“There, uncle Cal, it ’pears to me you’ve got it,” said one.

“’Pears to me we’ve all got it,” was the response of that worthy.

“Come in, Bart,” said the landlord, “and take something on the strength o’ that.”

“Thank you, I will be excused; I have a horror of a sudden death;” and, taking up his valise, he started across the fields to the near woods.

“Bully!” “Good!” “You’ve got that!” cried several to the discomfited seller of drinks.  “It is your treat; we’ll risk the stuff!” and the party turned in to the bar to realize their expectations.

“There is one thing ’bout it,” said Bi, “Bart hain’t changed much, anyway.”

“And there’s another thing ’bout it,” said uncle Bill, “a chap that carries such a sassy tongue should be sassy able.  He’ll answer some chap, some day, that wun’t stan’ it.”

“The man that picks him up’ll find an ugly customer; he’d be licked afore he begun.  I tell you what, them Ridgeley boys is no fighters, but the stuff’s in ’em, and Bart’s filled jest full.  I’d as liv tackle a young painter.”  This was Neaze’s view.

“That’s so,” said Jo.  “Do you remember the time he had here last fall, with that braggin’ hunter chap, Mc-Something, who came along with his rifle, darin’ all hands about here to shute with him?  He had one of them new peck-lock rifles, and nobody dared shute with him; and Bart came along, and asked to look at the feller’s gun, and said something ’bout it, and Mc-Somebody dared him to shute, and Bart sent over to Haw’s and got ‘old Potleg,’ that Steve Patterson shot himself with, and loaded ’er up, and then the hunter feller wouldn’t shute except on a bet, and Bart hadn’t but fifty cents, and they shot twenty rods off-hand, and Bart beat him; and they doubled the bet, and Bart beat agin, and they went on till Bart won more’n sixty dollars.  Sometimes the feller shot wild, and Bart told him he’d have to get a dog to hunt where he hit, and he got mad, and Bart picked up his first half-dollar and pitched it to Jotham, who put up the mark, and left the rest on the ground.”

“There come mighty near bein’ trouble then, an’ there would ha’ ben ef the Major hadn’t took Bart off,” said Bi.

And while these rough, good-natured men talked him over, Barton walked off southerly, across the newly-shorn meadow, to the woods.  Twilight was in their depths, and shadows were stealing mysteriously out, and already the faint and subtle aroma which the gathering dew releases from foliage, came out like an incense to bathe the quick and healthy senses of the wearied youth.  He removed his hat, opened his bosom,