quiet there, with his ears open for trouble; he wasn't much afraid of
two boys, but he knows there are men and guns not far off."

I was really very tired and after hearing this view of the case was not
much sorry to rest and have my supper. We learned next day that Thomas
and his father, and Ned and the Murches went over to the pasture with
their guns, but they failed to find the bear. The Murches set a trap at
the place where the sheep had been killed, and kept it there for ten
days. A hound was caught in it, but no bear.

I remember that my sleep that night was somewhat disturbed by exciting
dreams of hunting. At the breakfast table next morning I told the story
of our adventure over again, and described the ugly demonstrations of
the bear at such length, that I presently saw grandfather smiling, and
detected Addison giving a sly wink to Theodora. This confused me so much
that I stopped in haste and was more cautious about my realistic
descriptions in future. Halstead began hectoring me that forenoon
concerning my adventure, and nicknamed me "the great bear hunter." Much
incensed, I retorted by asking him whether he had paid for that
seed-corn. Hearing that, Addison, who was near us, cast an inquiring
look at Halstead, and the latter hurriedly changed the subject; he was
unusually polite to me for several days afterwards.

CHAPTER IX

HOMESICK AGAIN. BLUE, OH, SO BLUE!

The jaunt with Edgar and the excitement about old "Three-Legs" had
distracted my thoughts for the time being, but had not cured me of
homesickness. Two days later my mother sent me by mail my book of
arithmetic, the one I had recently used at school; she thought that I
might attend the district school in Maine and need it.

Now there is not usually much in a text-book of arithmetic that excites
fond memories in a boy of thirteen. Often the reverse. But I had no
sooner taken that well-thumbed book from its wrapping of brown paper,
than another pang of homesickness went through me; and this time it was
nostalgia in earnest.

If, at this moment, there is anywhere in the United States, or in the
whole world, a boy or girl who is homesick, I know how to pity each and
all of them. I do not suppose that my pity will do them much good.
Nothing does much good. But I know exactly how they feel, and they have
my heartiest sympathy.

Whoever ridicules and laughs at any one who is truly homesick must have
a hard heart and a shallow mind. It is no