, you say I couldn't make anything of him--see if
I don't! You have provoked me into the thing--defied me--and I accept
the challenge."

"What! you will capture Verty, that roving bird?"

"Yes; and make of this roving swallow another bird called a secretary.
I suppose you've read some natural history, and know there's such a
feathered thing."

"Yes."

"Very well," said Mr. Rushton, kicking his horse, and cramming his
cocked hat down on his forehead. "I'll show you how little you know of
human nature and character. I'll take this wild Indian boy, brought up
in the woods, and as free and careless as a deer, and in six months
I'll change him into a canting, crop-eared, whining pen-machine, with
quills behind his ears, and a back always bending humbly. I'll take
this honest barbarian and make a civilized and enlightened individual
out of him--that is to say, I'll change him into a rascal and a
hypocrite."

With which misanthropic words Mr. Rushton nodded in a surly way to the
smiling Squire, and took his way down the road toward Winchester.

"Well, well," said the old gentleman, looking after him, "Rushton
seems to be growing rougher than ever;--what a pity that so noble
a heart should have such a husk. His was a hard trial, however--we
should not be surprised. Rough-headed fellow! he thinks he can do
everything with that resolute will of his;--but the idea of chaining
to a writing-desk that wild boy, Verty!"

And the old gentleman re-entered the house smiling cheerfully, as was
his wont.

CHAPTER IV.

HOW VERTY THOUGHT, AND PLAYED, AND DREAMED.

Verty took his weary way westward through the splendid autumn woods,
gazing with his dreamy Indian expression on the variegated leaves,
listening to the far cries of birds, and speaking at times to Longears
and Wolf, his two deer hounds.

Then his head would droop--a dim smile would glimmer upon his lips,
and his long, curling hair would fall in disordered masses around
his burnt face, almost hiding it from view. At such moments Verty
dreamed--the real world had disappeared--perforce of that imagination
given him by heaven, he entered calm and happy into the boundless
universe of reverie and fancy.

For a time he would go along thus, his arms hanging down, his head
bent upon his breast, his body swinging from side to side with every
movement of his shaggy little horse. Then he would rouse himself, and
perhaps fit an arrow to his bow, and aim at some bird, o