“Got you some games yesterday?” he inquired.

“Yes.  And I’m going again to-day.”

“Plenty games over yonder is, but it is very fatiguing to get them.  To-day I go along for showing you the way.”

“Not a bit like it.  I’m going alone.”

“Oh no, boss!”

“Oh yes, boss!  I accidentally shot the last man I hunted with—­ killed him.”  Kirk stared tragically at his companion, but Allan was not to be so easily deterred.

“I shall pahss behind you, boss.”

“I’d love to have you, of course—­but I’m too careless.”

“Praise God, you must not go h’alone in that case, or something will befall you!  I shall h’imitate the birds and call them out before you to fire at.”

“Fire at!  I don’t fire at things, I hit ’em.”

“Yes, sar.  In that case we shall procure plenty of games.”

“See here!  I’m going alone, understand?  I have an engagement with a Naiad.”

“’Ow much a month will you be getting for such h’engagements?”

“Naiads don’t pay in money, they give you smiles and kind words.”

“Better you continue then as train collector.  There is great h’opportunity for stealing.”

“My job won’t be ready for a few days, and meanwhile I have become a huntsman.  I intend to go out every afternoon.”

“H’afternoons is no good for wild h’animals; they are sleeping.  Walk they in the h’early morning, for the most part, very quietly.”

“That’s true of some wood creatures, but the kind I hunt dance along the edges of pools in the afternoon.  Say, did you ever feel like dancing?”

“No, sar.”

“Come around on the back porch and I’ll teach you a buck-step.  I feel too good to sit still.”

But Allan refused this proffer firmly.  Such frivolous conduct was beneath his dignity.

“I ’ave h’important things to disclose,” he said, mysteriously.

“Indeed.”

“Yes, sar.  Last night I dreamed.”

“You’ve got nothing on me; so did I.”

“I am walking on the h’edge of the h’ocean when I h’encountered a whale—­a ’uge whale.”

“Swam ashore to rest, I suppose?”

“No, sar; he was dead.  It was very vivid.”

“Well, what has a vivid dead whale to do with me?”

“This!” Allan brought forth a sheet of paper, which he unfolded carefully.  “There is the number—­the ‘fish number,’ sar.”

“Why, this is a Chinese lottery advertisement.”

“I got it for the very purpose.  It would pay us to h’invest some money on the ‘fish number.’”

“Nonsense!  I don’t believe in dreams.  You say yourself they are false.”

“Never such a dream as this, boss.  It was very vivid.”

“I’ve got no money.”

Allan folded the paper disconsolately and thrust it into his pocket.  “It is fartunate h’indeed,” said he, “that you will be working soon, Master h’Auntony.  And those P. R. R. was very fartunate also for getting you to h’accept a position, very fartunate h’indeed.”