s side
the brook, and then ride on and forget all about it. Catch?"

Jim "caught," and after another word of warning to be very careful, both
in regard to the rifle and getting caught, he started, having left a box
of Flobert cartridges with Tom.

[Illustration: HE CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF A CERTAIN FAMILIAR WHITE HORSE.]

"Daddy Wilson's" was quite a mile and a half from Jim's house; but it
did not take Tom long to cover the distance, and in a very short time he
was under the bridge and out again on the other side with the rifle
under his arm. His experience had been very limited with firearms, but
he had a natural gift of being "handy" with almost anything, and he
acted as though hunting were an old pastime, and the gun a companion of
years. However, he thought it best to try and see how it went, and was
just taking aim at a little yellow chipmunk, when the sound of an
approaching carriage made him change his mind, and dart under the bridge
and wait; he had caught a glimpse of a certain familiar white horse, and
as it trotted over the bridge, shaking a little stream of dust through
the cracks and down his neck, he realized he had had a narrow escape.
After it had gone by, he tried his aim on an old green frog, and laid
him out "flatter'n a pan-cake," as he said to himself. Two or three more
trials were made, and he started through the woods for his blackberry
patch, first walking very carefully, and finally creeping on all fours;
but whatever the reason, that wily cock partridge had had his breakfast
and declined to be found, and Tom was disappointed and cast down; he had
counted on that bird to ease the reception he would meet at home, and
now he would have to return empty handed. However, he made up his mind
"he'd shoot something," and for an hour or more be popped ineffectually
at chipmunks and small birds, and was really enjoying the sport, when it
struck him that late to dinner would require an explanation, and thus
greatly increase the chances of the very thing which he now wanted to
avoid. So he hurried towards home, and went in through the place by a
back way, intending to leave the rifle at the stable. The coachman was a
good friend of his, and would clean and return it, and everything would
be all right again. Now it happened that Mr. Henry was having built a
small shed and tool-house behind his house, and, as luck would have it,
he was watching its progress at the very moment when Tom emerged from
behind some