en to the
gin. The boy had climbed up on a pile of boxes to make himself higher,
and in this position had seen a fly on the mule's back. Or at least that
is what Jim said.

At any rate, whether he tried to do the mule a kindness, or whether he
really intended to use the boxes as a stepping block to get up and take
a ride, Jim got on the animal's back, and this so alarmed the mule that
it started off, causing much excitement.

But no real harm had resulted, and no one was hurt, for the fluffy
cotton was even softer to fall on than a pile of hay. Jim was taken in
charge by his mother and made to help pick cotton the rest of the day.

Bunny and Sue liked it so much on the plantation, watching the
cotton-pickers and occasionally pulling up a few peanuts for themselves,
that I think they would have been willing to spend the rest of the
winter in that part of the sunny South.

"But my business here is almost finished," said Mr. Brown to his family
one evening as they sat in Mr. Morton's pleasant home. "We will soon go
on to Florida."

"And eat oranges!" added Sue, for she had often been thinking of that
juicy fruit.

"And catch alligators!" exclaimed Bunny. The chance of at least seeing
some of these scaly creatures seemed to give Bunny pleasure.

"Oh, my!" exclaimed his mother. "Now look here!" she went on, as she
thought of what might happen. "I don't want you two tots going off by
yourselves trying to catch alligators! Mind that!" and she shook a
warning finger at them.

In the evening, while the older folks were talking in the sitting room
and the children were playing games, Bunny heard his father say:

"There's the oil stock certificate Bunny found, Mr. Morton."

"Oh, yes, your wife was telling us about that," remarked the cotton
planter. "Let me see it."

Bunny looked up in time to see his father show Mr. Morton a stiff,
crinkly green and gold paper, which the little boy well remembered.

"Didn't you yet find out to whom that oil stock belongs?" asked Mrs.
Brown of her husband, while Bunny entertained Sam and Grace by telling
them in a low voice how, while they were in the sleigh that day with
Uncle Tad, the porter of the Pullman car had tossed the valuable paper
out in a pan of dirt.

"No, so far I haven't found the owner," Mr. Brown answered. "I brought
the certificate with me, for I thought perhaps the oil company might
have been notified by the loser. But they write me that no one has yet
notified