here that meddlesome MacPhairrson
had never permitted him to dig.

III

It was in the green zenith of June when MacPhairrson went away. When
he returned, hobbling up with his tiny bundle, the backwoods world was
rioting in the scarlet and gold of young October. He was quite cured.
He felt singularly well. But a desperate loneliness saddened his
home-coming. He knew his cabin would be just as he had left it, there
on its steep little foam-ringed island; and he knew the Boy would be
there, with the key, to admit him over the bridge and welcome him
home. But what would the island be without the Family? The Boy,
doubtless, had done what he could. He had probably taken care of
Stumpy, and perhaps of Ananias-and-Sapphira. But the rest of the
Family must inevitably be scattered to the four winds. Tears came into
his eyes as he thought of himself and Stumpy and the parrot, the poor
lonely three, there amid the sleepless clamour of the rapids,
lamenting their vanished comrades. A chill that was more than the
approaching autumn twilight could account for settled upon his heart.

Arriving at the little bridge, however, his heart warmed again, for
there was the Boy waving at him, and hurrying down to the gate to let
him in. And there at the Boy's heels was Stumpy, sure enough.
MacPhairrson shouted, and Stumpy, at the sound of the loud voice, went
wild, trying to tear his way through the gate. When the gate opened,
he had to brace himself against the frame, before he could grasp the
Boy's hand, so extravagant and overwhelming were the yelping Stumpy's
caresses. Gladly he suffered them, letting the excited dog lick his
hands and even his face; for, after all, Stumpy was the best and
dearest member of the Family. Then, to steady him, he gave him his
bundle to carry up to the cabin, and proudly Stumpy trotted on ahead
with it. MacPhairrson's voice trembled as he tried to thank the Boy
for bringing Stumpy back to him--trembled and choked.

"I can't help it!" he explained apologetically as soon as he got his
voice again. "I love Stumpy best, of course! You kept the best fer me!
But, Jiminy Christmas, Boy, how I miss the rest on 'em!"

"I didn't keep Stumpy!" explained the Boy as the two went up the path.
"It was Mike Sweeny took care of him for you. He brought him round
this morning because he had to get off to the woods cruising. I took
care of Bones--we'll find him on his box inside--and of cross old
Butters. Thunder, how But