took
leave, saying he hoped to call again soon.

The children's hearts were taken captive by their clerical visitor.
And well it might be so, for he was their true friend. And it
mattered little to him that their dwelling was rude and comfortless,
their clothing old and worn, and their manners uncultured. He loved
them for his Master's sake, and for their souls' sake: for this he had
left the elegances of his eastern home, and come out into the
wilderness. He was a true man, and a true minister of Jesus
Christ--seeking not a name, wealth, luxury, the favor of the rich and
great, but to bring the straying lambs and sheep into the fold.

"I think we won't wait any longer for your father," said Mrs. Jones,
after the children had got somewhat over the excitement caused by the
missionary's call; and putting her hand into the oven to take from
thence the plate of cakes, she looked in to see why she did not find
them, exclaiming,--

"Why, where are the cakes? I certainly set them in here. Who has taken
them away?"

The children gazed at each other in consternation.

"I'll bet it's some of Bub's doings," said Eliza; and noticing for the
first time that he was not in the room, they hastened out to find
him.

"Bub, Bub!" called the mother.

"Bub, Bub!" echoed the children, as they searched the field over, and
looked into every nook and corner that they could think of. But there
was no answer, and not a trace of him was to be found, until, at last,
Charley called out,--

"Here's his stick!"

"He cannot be far off, then," said his mother, although she began to
grow uneasy about him.

"No," said Robert, "for he rides that stick most all the time:" then
he suddenly added, "Ah, you little rascal! I see you!" Then turning to
the rest, he whispered, "Just look here, but don't make any noise!"

And Mrs. Jones and the children, gathering softly around the pen,
peeping in, saw Bub, comfortably seated by the fawn, the cakes in his
lap, eating them and feeding the gentle creature. Bub had teased the
fawn the most, and Bub was the first to tame it.

[Illustration: BUB AND THE FAWN. Page 64.]

CHAPTER V.

BROTHER SMITH AND QUARTER STAKES.

"Good morning, Mr. Jones. I suppose we may call this Indian
summer--may we not?" and the missionary--for it was he--shook hands
with the hunter.

"Scarcely time for it yet," replied the latter. "But this is fine
weather, though."

"Shall you be busy to-day? I wish to find a