deck in the other worl'--don't mention that fool to me!--to
stay there an' git blowed up after the ship was afire an' his dad
didn't sho' up." He spat on a mark: "_Venture pee-wee under the
bridge--bam--bam--bam._"

"There was William Tell's son," ventured his brother again.

"Another gol-darn id'jut, Ozzie B., like his dad that put him up to
it. Why, if the ole man had missed, the two would'er gone down in
history as the champion ass an' his colt. The risk was too big for
the odds. Why, he didn't have one chance in a hundred. Besides, them
fellers actin' the fool don't hurt nobody but theyselves. Now you--"

"How's that, Archie B.?"

Archie B. lowered his voice to a gentle persuasive whisper: "Don't do
it, ole man--come now--be reasonable. If we stay here in the woods,
Triggers'll think we're at home. Dad will think we're in school.
They'll never know no better. It's wrong, but we'll have plenty o'
time to make it right--we've got six months mo' of school this year.
Now, if you do go--you'll be licked twice an'--an', Ozzie B., I'll
git licked when paw hears of it to-night."

"Oh," said Ozzie B., "that's it, is it?"

"Yes, of course; if a man don't look out for his own hide, whose
goin' to do it for him? Come now, ole man."

Ozzie B. was silent. His brother saw the narrow forehead wrinkling in
indecision. He knew the different habits--not principles--of his
nature were at work for mastery. Finally the hypocrite habit
prevailed, when he said piously: "We have sowed the wind, Archie
B.--we'll hafter reap the whirlwind, like paw says."

"Go!" shouted his brother. "Go!" and he helped him along with a
kick--"Go, since I can't save you. You'll reap the whirlwind, but I
won't if my brains can save me."

He sat down on a log and watched his brother go down the path,
sobbing as usual, when he felt that he was a martyr. He sat long and
thought.

"It's bad," he sighed--"a man cu'd do so much mo' in life if he
didn't hafter waste so much time arguin' with fools. Well, I'm here
fur the day an' I'll learn somethin'. Now, I wanter know if one
squirrel er two squirrels stays in the same hole in winter. Then
there's the wild-duck. I wanter kno' when the mallards go south."

In a few minutes he had hid himself behind a tree in a clump of
brush. He was silent for ten minutes, so silent that only the falling
leaves could be heard. Then very cautiously he imitated the call of
the gray squirrel--once, twice, and still again. H