es, set very closely
together; his straggling reddish beard, all were fitting concomitants to
accent the degree of caustic contempt he expressed. "Oh, to be sure!"
he drawled. "It'll be powerful public up hyar in the mounting in the
midnight,--that's a fac'!--an' moonlight is mighty inconvenient to them
ez wants ter git spied on through totin' a lantern in cur'ous places."

This sarcasm left the two remonstrants out of countenance. Pete Swofford
found a certain resource in the agitations of his bear, once more
shrinking and protesting because of the dogs. "Call off yer hound-dogs,
Rufe," he cried irritably, "or I'll gin 'em a bullet ter swallow."

"Ye air a plumb fool about that thar bar, Pete," Kinnicutt said sourly,
calling off the hounds nevertheless.

"That thar bar?" exclaimed Swofford. "Why, thar never war sech a bar!
That thar bar goes ter mill, an' kin fetch home grist,--ef I starts him
out in the woods whar he won't meet no dogs nor contrairy cattle o' men
he kin go ter mill all by his lone!--same ez folks an' the bes' kind o'
folks, too!"

In fact the bear was even now begirt with a meal-bag, well filled, which
although adding to his uncouth appearance and perhaps unduly afflicting
the sensibilities of the horse, who snorted and reared at the sight of
him, saved his master the labor of "packing" the heavy weight.

Swofford had his genial instincts and in return was willing to put up
with the cubbishness of the transport,--would wait in the illimitable
patience of the utterly idle for the bear to climb a tree if he liked
and pleasantly share with him the persimmons of his quest;--would never
interfere when the bear flung himself down and wallowed with the bag on
his back, and would reply to the censorious at home, objecting to the
dust and sand thus sifting in with the meal, with the time honored
reminder that we are all destined "to eat a peck of dirt" in this world.

"Whenst ye fust spoke o' digging" said Kinnicutt, interrupting a
lengthening account of the bear's mental and moral graces, "I 'lowed
ez ye mought be sayin' ez they air layin' off ter work agin in the
Tanglefoot Mine."

Ozias Crann lifted a scornful chin. "I reckon the last disasters thar
hev interrupted the company so ez they hain't got much heart todes
diggin' fur silver agin over in Tanglefoot Cove. Fust," he checked off
these misfortunes, by laying the fingers of one hand successively in the
palm of the other, "the timbers o' one o' th