sage along a "blind trail,"
her deviations from the school path, her more distant excursions,
were all mysteriously known to him. It seemed as if his senses were
concentrated in this one faculty. No matter how unexpected or unfamiliar
the itinerary, "Lo, the poor Indian"--as the men had nicknamed him (in
possible allusion to his "untutored mind")--always arrived promptly and
silently.

It was to this singular faculty that Peggy owed one of her strangest
experiences. One Saturday afternoon she was returning from an errand to
the village when she was startled by the appearance of Lo in her path.
For the reason already given, she no longer took him with her to these
active haunts of civilization, but had taught him on such occasions to
remain as a guard outside the stockade which contained her treasures.
After reading him a severe lecture on this flagrant abandonment of his
trust, enforced with great seriousness and an admonitory forefinger,
she was concerned to see that the animal appeared less agitated by her
reproof than by some other disturbance. He ran ahead of her, instead
of at her heels, as was his usual custom, and barked--a thing he rarely
did. Presently she thought she discovered the cause of this in the
appearance from the wood of a dozen men armed with guns. They seemed to
be strangers, but among them she recognized the deputy sheriff of the
settlement. The leader noticed her, and, after a word or two with the
others, the deputy approached her.

"You and Lo had better be scooting home by the highroad, outer this--or
ye might get hurt," he said, half playfully, half seriously.

Peggy looked fearlessly at the men and their guns.

"Look ez ef you was huntin'?" she said curiously.

"We are!" said the leader.

"Wot you huntin'?"

The deputy glanced at the others. "B'ar!" he replied.

"Ba'r!" repeated the child with the quick resentment which a palpable
falsehood always provoked in her. "There ain't no b'ar in ten miles! See
yourself huntin' b'ar! Ho!"

The man laughed. "Never you mind, missy," said the deputy, "you trot
along!" He laid his hand very gently on her head, faced her sunbonnet
towards the near highway, gave the usual parting pull to her brown
pigtail, added, "Make a bee-line home," and turned away.

Lo uttered the first growl known in his history. Whereat Peggy said,
with lofty forbearance, "Serve you jest right ef I set my dog on you."

But force is no argument, and Peggy felt this truth e