“That sounds fine, and I sure will be glad to go along.  But is it Robinson Crusoe he means when he calls that poor white dub?” asked Maurice, looking up from the book he was reading after work hours.

“Yes; you see he found the poor chap with a broken leg on an island in the swamp.  He would have starved to death only Mr. Buckley happened along in a canoe.  And so he named him Crusoe.  They make a splendid pair for the business, he says,” went on the excited Thad.

“Who says—­Crusoe?” asked the other.  “Oh, shucks!  You know I mean the major.  Now, there’s his bear dogs, they’re a different proposition, eh; all of ’em big and fierce, just like you’d expect to find when it comes to stopping a black bear in the canebrake.  And he says we might try a chance with him tomorrow after Bruin.  He’s got a rifle to loan us apiece!”

“I suppose you mean the major has, and not the bear.  All right, I’m in anything like that.  Never saw a wild bear in my life, and perhaps I’ll be so scared that I won’t know which end of the gun to aim at him; but I’m game to try, Thad; just let him give me a chance.”

“Here he comes now,” declared Thad.

“Good gracious! the bear?” cried his chum, in pretended alarm.

“Rats!  Major Buckley, of course.”

The planter was never tired of the company of the two boys.  He had no children of his own and enjoyed the coming of these two bright lads so much that he declared it was quite a revelation to him.

“I don’t see how I’m going to stand it after you leave here, boys, he said, as he came up; “I never before realized what it meant to have young blood around.  Tell you what I proposed to the missus last night after you went to bed.  I’ve got some nephews and nieces down in Natchez, children of my younger brother, Larry.  Don’t believe they’re getting along as well as they might since poor Larry lost his life while out duck hunting in a bayou four years back.  I’m thinking seriously of running down to see my kith and kin, and, if I fancy ’em as much as I think I will from the pictures they sent me awhile back, I’m going to bring ’em here, bag and baggage, to make their home with us.  And that’s what comes of knowing you two lads.  They’ll have to thank you for their good fortune.”

“But we never even heard of them, major,” protested Maurice.

“That’s so, my lad, but you’ve made such an impression on my old heart that my eyes are opened, and I see it isn’t right for us to live on in this fine place while poor old Larry’s children and widow are possibly in want.  My mind is quite made up on that score, and if they don’t come it won’t be my fault,” the planter went on.

“Then I’m glad for one that we visited your plantation,” asserted Maurice.

“Here, too,” echoed his chum, immediately.

Then they fell to talking of the anticipated night’s sport with the ’coon pack in the woods.

“It’s late for the best hunting in that line,” remarked the owner of Crusoe and Spider; “you see the ’coons are fattest along about the ripe corn full moon, and that’s when we go after ’em most.  Still, I reckon we can scare up a few, though our way of finding ’em may be off color a bit.  But I thought you wouldn’t mind that, so long as you saw how it was done.”