ng about my
moonshine?"

But Sprigg said never a word, moved never a limb, winked never an eye.

"I say, what's wrong about my moonshine? If you have a tongue, speak!"

Poor Sprigg had a tongue, but it stuck fast to the roof of his mouth,
and when he world have told the bear as much, it stuck still faster.

"Speak, I tell you! None of your mums with me!" the bear's voice
terribly gruff by this time. "If you don't----"

"Sir!" gasped out Sprigg at last.

"Sir!" mockingly echoed the bear. "Sir! and is 'Sir' all a boy has to
say for himself, who dodged my moonshine? I knew that much before. Now,
sir, to the purpose, and tell me something I don't know."

"Yes, sir," which was as near to the purpose as anything the boy could
think of just then. His grim questioner looked at him with so hard a
countenance that it kept his scared wits from performing the very office
demanded of them.

"Now, there is some sense in that," remarked the bear, with a grim smile
and with a nod of the head to the right, as if the comment was intended
for his ear, who stood there; and Sprigg could see that the moccasins
shook, as if the wearer were laughing heartily.

"Having discovered that he has a tongue," continued the bear, "we will
now take a fresh start and find out, if we can, what stuff the cub is
made of. Now, sir, what's your name?"

"Sprigg," replied the boy, glad to have an opportunity, at last, of
saying something to the purpose.

"Is that an English name, or Indian name?" inquired the bear.

"It is my name, sir; and you can see that I am not an Indian, by my
coonskin cap."

"Bless a body!" exclaimed the bear, "but that was well turned. Now,
sir, as you are getting a little glib, will you go still further and
tell us how old you are?"

"Twelve years old, sir, next June-day come a year," replied the boy, in
the peculiar sing-song way in which old-fashioned children were wont to
answer the question.

"Why, that's to-day, you young gump!" cried the bear, "and your answer
still leaves me in the fog as to your age--whether it's eleven or
twelve.'

"I was eleven years old the last time, and I was to be twelve years old
the next time, whenever that might be."

"Better and better," quoth the bear, with an approving nod, "and now I
shouldn't be surprised if he were prepared to tell us whose son he is.
Can you tell us that?"

"Oh, yes, sir, very easily!"

"Then why don't you, and prove it?"

"My pap's name is Jervis Whit