hus caressed, and then said: "Ye must be
mighty keerful, and do just as I bid ye. If I stay to the poor-house
to-night, I shall want to see ye in the mornin', and I shall want to see
ye alone. Now ye know there's a big stump by the side of the road,
half-way up to the old school-house."

Harry gave his assent.

"Well, I want ye to be thar, ahead o' me, and then I'll tell ye jest
what I'm a goin' to do, and jest what I want to have ye do."

"Yes, sir."

"Now mind, ye mustn't know me when I'm about the house, and mustn't tell
anybody you've seed me, and I mustn't know you. Now ye leave all the
rest to Jim Fenton, yer pa's old friend. Don't ye begin to feel a little
better now?"

"Yes, sir."

"You can kiss me again, if ye want to. I didn't mean to choke ye off.
That was all in fun, ye know."

Harry kissed him, and then Jim said: "Now make tracks for yer old
boardin'-house. I'll be along bimeby."

The boy started upon a brisk run, and Jim still sat upon the stone
watching him until he disappeared somewhere among the angles of the
tumble-down buildings that constituted the establishment.

"Well, Jim Fenton," he said to himself, "ye've been spilin' fur
somethin' to do fur somebody. I guess ye've got it, and not a very small
job neither."

Then he shouldered his pack, took up his rifle, looked up at the cloudy
and blustering sky, and pushed up the hill, still talking to himself,
and saying: "A little boy of about his haighth and bigness ain't a bad
thing to take."

CHAPTER IV.

IN WHICH JIM FENTON APPLIES FOR LODGINGS AT TOM BUFFUM'S BOARDING-HOUSE,
AND FINDS HIS OLD FRIEND.

As Jim walked up to the door of the building occupied by Tom Buffum's
family, he met the head of the family coming out; and as, hitherto, that
personage has escaped description, it will be well for the reader to
make his acquaintance. The first suggestion conveyed by his rotund
figure was, that however scantily he furnished his boarders, he never
stinted himself in the matter of food. He had the sluggish, clumsy look
of a heavy eater. His face was large, his almost colorless eyes were
small, and, if one might judge by the general expression of his
features, his favorite viand was pork. Indeed, if the swine into which
the devils once entered had left any descendants, it would be legitimate
to suppose that the breed still thrived in the most respectable sty
connected with his establishment. He was always hoarse, and spoke either
i