“You skinned him out of his last cent, old Boyle says.”

“An’ whoi not, when he throid to shkin me?  Before that I was helpin’ him, an’ fwhat must he do but be ahfter swappin’ horses.  He might as well ast me to play poker and then squeal when I scooped the pile.  Naybours is wan thing an’ swappin’ horses is another.  All’s fair in a horse trade, an’ friends didn’t orter swap horses widout they kin stand the shkinnin’.  That’s a game by itself.  Oi would ‘a’ helped him jest the same afther that swap an’ moore, fur he wuz good stuff, but he must nades shoot at me that noight as I come home wit the wad, so av coorse—­”

“I wish ye had a Dog now,” said the farmer in the new tone of a new subject; “tramps is a nuisance at all toimes, an’ a Dog is the best med’cine for them.  I don’t believe old Cap’d stay here; but maybe yer near enough to the house so they won’t bother ye.  An’ now I guess the Paleface will go back to the settlement.  I promised ma that I’d see that yer bed wuz all right, an’ if ye sleep warrum an’ dry an’ hev plenty to ate ye’ll take no harrum.”

So he turned away, but as he was quitting the clearing he stopped,—­the curious boyish interest was gone from his face, the geniality from his voice—­then in his usual stern tones of command: 

[Illustration:  “If ye kill any Song-birds, I’ll use the rawhoide on ye.”]

“Now, bhoys, ye kin shoot all the Woodchucks yer a mind ter, fur they are a nuisance in the field.  Yer kin kill Hawks an’ Crows an’ Jays, fur they kill other birds, an’ Rabbits an’ Coons, fur they are fair game; but I don’t want to hear of yer killin’ any Squirrels or Chipmunks or Song-birds, an’ if ye do I’ll stop the hull thing an’ bring ye back to wurruk, an’ use the rawhoide on tap o’ that.”

II

The First Night and Morning

It was a strange new feeling that took possession of the boys as they saw Mr. Raften go, and when his step actually died away on the blazed trail they felt that they were really and truly alone in the woods and camping out.  To Yan it was the realization of many dreams, and the weirdness of it was helped by the remembrance of the tall old man he had seen watching them from behind the trees.  He made an excuse to wander out there, but of course Caleb was gone.

“Fire up,” Sam presently called out.  Yan was the chief expert with the rubbing-sticks, and within a minute or two he had the fire going in the middle of the teepee and Sam set about preparing the evening meal.  This was supposed to be Buffalo meat and Prairie roots (beef and potatoes).  It was eaten rather quietly, and then the boys sat down on the opposite sides of the fire.  The conversation dragged, then died a natural death; each was busy with his thoughts, and there was, moreover, an impressive and repressive something or other all around them.  Not a stillness, for there were many sounds, but beyond those a sort of voiceless background that showed up all the myriad voices.  Some of these were evidently Bird, some Insect, and a few were recognized as Tree-frog notes.  In the near stream were sounds of splashing or a little plunge.