e ever and anon the neighing of a nervous horse.

Andy Mitchell had been detailing with tireless minuteness the virtues of
his magnificent team of stallions, Tom and Jerry, and had described (as
was his wont on all possible occasions) the manner in which they had
once saved his life when he was attacked by a tremendous Indian Devil.
This Indian Devil (as the Northern Panther is called in Canada) had been
literally pounded to pieces under the hoofs of the angry stallions. As
Mitchell concluded, there came a voice from the other side of the stove,
and a tall Woodstocker spoke up. This was a chopper very popular in the
camp, and known by the name of Jabe. His real name, seldom used except
on Sundays, was Jabez Ephraim Batterpole.

"_I'll_ tell yez a leetle yarn, boys," said Jabe, "about a chap ez
warn't _eg_zackly an Injun Devil, but he was half Injun, an' I'm
a-thinkin t' other half must 'a' been a devil. I run agin him las' June,
three year gone, an' he come blame near a-doin' fur me. I haint sot
eyes on him sence, fur which the same I ain't a-goin' to complain.

"I'd been up to the Falls, an' was a-takin' a raft down the river fur
Gibson. Sandy Beale was along o' me, an' I dunno ez ever I enjoyed
raftin' more 'n on the first o' thet trip. Doubtless yez all knows what
purty raftin' it is in them parts. By gum, it kinder makes a chap lick
his lips when he rickolecks it, a-slidin' along there in the sun, not
too hot an' not too cold, a-smokin' very comfortable, with one's back
braced agin a saft spruce log, an' smellin' the leetle catspaws what
comes blowin' off the shores jest ez sweet an' saft ez a gal's currls
a-brushin' of a feller's face."

"_What_ gal's currls be you referrin' to Jabe?" interrupted Andy
Mitchell.

"Suthin' finer 'n horse-hair, anyways!" was the prompt retort; and a
laugh went round the camp at Andy's expense. Then Batterpole
continued:--

"When we come to Hardscrabble it was sundown, so we tied up the raft an'
teetered up the hill to Old Man Peters's fur the night. Yez all knows
Old Man Peters's gal Nellie, ez there ain't no tidier an honester slip
on the hull river. Nellie was purty glad to see Sandy an' me, ef I does
say it that shouldn't; an' she chinned with us so ez she didn't hev no
time to talk to some other chaps ez was puttin' up there that night. An'
this, ez I mighty soon ketched onter, didn't seem nohow to suit one of
the fellers. He was a likely-lookin' chap enough, but very
dark-