ney, and my mam's name is Elster Whitney;"
and the poor little runaway choked as he pronounced the dear names.

Whereupon, as if musing on what he had just heard, the bear made that
peculiar sound, which, uttered through the nose, with the lips closed,
amounts to a doubtful, undecided yes: "Oo-hooh"--then a pause--"he says
his pap's name is Jervis Whitney."

"Yes, sir, and my grandpap's name is Jervis Whitney, too," added
Sprigg, thinking that the fuller he gave his pedigree, the more
satisfactory might prove his information, "and I have an uncle who goes
by the name of Benjamin Whitney, who was shot through the knees at the
battle of Brandywine, so that he now goes about on wooden legs."

"And the better husband for his pegs, too, I warrant you," quoth the
bear, "for he will stick by his wife so long as she will stick to him."

"Yes, sir, and I have another uncle, who goes by the name of----"

"Ooh-hooh," said the bear, relapsing into his musing mood, "he has
another uncle. But, Jervis Whitney--now, where did I ever hear that
name? It sounds as familiar to my ear as the hum of a bee.
Ooh-hooh--Jervis Whitney. Yes, yes! Now I have it! I know the man; know
him like a book! It's the white hunter, whom Will-o'-the-Wisp and I fell
in with one moonshiny night last week; and a very pleasant sort of a
fellow we found him, too. Yes, and I gave him a pair of red moccasins
for his little son. Yes, and he told me his son's name was Sprigg. All
as clear as moonshine now. Sprigg!"

"Sir!" The urchin would have said "what" to pap and mam.

"A particular friend of yours sent you a pair of red moccasins one night
last week--did your father deliver them to you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you worn them yet?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have you worn them to-day?" To which, after a pause, Sprigg owned that
he had.

"Did you have them on when you left home?"

"Well, no, sir; not exactly."

"But I want it exactly--yes or no."

"Well, I was barefooted when I left the house, and wasn't barefooted
when I left the spring."

"What particular place did you have in your mind, as your journey's end,
when you set out from home?"

"Grandpap's house, sir."

"And did you ask permission of your father or mother, sir?"

"Yes, sir."

"And did you obtain their permission?" The bear's eyes, by this time, as
sharp as gimblets; as piercing as sprig-awls. Sprigg made a long pause
before answering this question; and when, at last, he did do so, he
pulle