scampering
off very fast indeed.

The truth flashed upon him. It was some child, passing on an
unimaginable errand through the deep woods, frightened by his sudden
cry.

"Stop, bubby!" he shouted; "stop a minute! It's Ethan Tynes that's
callin' of ye. Stop a minute, bubby!"

The step paused at a safe distance, and the shrill pipe of a little boy
demanded, "Whar is ye, Ethan Tynes?"

"I'm down hyar on the ledge o' the bluff. Who air ye ennyhow?"

"George Birt," promptly replied the little boy. "What air ye doin' down
thar? I thought it was Satan a-callin' of me. I never seen nobody."

"I kem down hyar on vines arter a tur-r-key I shot. The vines bruk, an'
I hev got no way ter git up agin. I want ye ter go ter yer mother's
house, an' tell yer brother Pete ter bring a rope hyar fur me ter climb
up by."

Ethan expected to hear the shambling step going away with a [v]celerity
in keeping with the importance of the errand. On the contrary, the step
was approaching the crag.

A moment of suspense, and there appeared among the jagged ends of the
broken vines a small red head, a deeply freckled face, and a pair of
sharp, eager blue eyes. George Birt had carefully laid himself down on
his stomach, only protruding his head beyond the verge of the crag, that
he might not fling away his life in his curiosity.

"Did ye git it?" he asked, with bated breath.

"Git what?" demanded poor Ethan, surprised and impatient.

"The tur-r-key--what ye hev done been talkin' 'bout," said George Birt.

Ethan had lost all interest in the turkey.

"Yes, yes; but run along, bub. I mought fall off'n this hyar place,--I'm
gittin' stiff sittin' still so long,--or the wind mought blow me off.
The wind is blowing toler'ble brisk."

"Gobbler or hen?" asked George Birt eagerly.

"It air a hen," said Ethan. "But look-a-hyar, George, I'm a-waitin' on
ye an' if I'd fall off'n this hyar place, I'd be ez dead ez a door-nail
in a minute."

"Waal, I'm goin' now," said George Birt, with gratifying alacrity. He
raised himself from his [v]recumbent position, and Ethan heard him
shambling off, kicking every now and then at the fallen leaves as he
went.

Presently, however, he turned and walked back nearly to the brink of the
cliff. Then he prostrated himself once more at full length,--for the
mountain children are very careful of precipices,--snaked along
dexterously to the verge of the crag, and protruding his red head
cautiously, began to [v]parl