an equal footing in the trial of speed between them.
Refuse the gift, and nothing shall follow therefrom, be it for good or
for evil. Accept the gift, and good--nothing but good--shall come of it,
sooner or later."

Here, with the air of one who has had his say, and now but awaits your
final answer to take fair leave of you, the Manitou paused. Jervis
Whitney did the like, remaining silent for many moments, half in doubt,
half in debate, his eyes bent fixedly the while upon his companion. At
length, very dubiously, indeed, he answered:

"I must confess, were we to drop the matter just here, I should be left
as much in the mist as if you had kept your mist-cap on your head and
allowed me only the use of my ears. Will you please enlighten me, sir,
with a few more gleams of your moonshine?"

"Certainly, sir; certainly!" rejoined Nick of the Woods, with an
obliging smile and a courteous wave of the hand. "I perceive you are
something of a philosopher, by wishing to view the subject in that
light. Know, then, that Sprigg's fancy for red moccasins has grown to be
the one idea of his mind--a hankering, so to speak; and the best cure in
the world for a hankering, as everybody knows, is a strong, sudden,
overwhelming dose of the thing so hankered after. Sprigg's case is like
that of a man's case, whose heart is dead set on matrimony--a little
experience, tough and lively, being all that is needed to cure him of
the hankering and restore him to a healthy condition of mind. As with
matrimony, so with moccasins."

"I am glad that Elster is not present to hear that speech; else should I
feel constrained to send a bullet through your bearskin, just by way of
giving you the lie, and of satisfying her that I am the truest of
husbands, as she is the best of wives, although I am perfectly aware
that it would be a waste of powder and lead, having once or twice in my
time sent my bullet after a bear, and found that, without missing my
mark, I had shot nothing."

"And I should esteem you all the more highly for doing so much to please
your wife," rejoined Nick of the Woods, with increased complacency; "and
my wife, Meg of the Hills, were she present, also, at the time, would
cordially join in my expression of commendation. When I say, 'as with
matrimony, so with moccasins,' it is merely by way of illustration, and
is not to be understood as an expression of my private sentiments. Our
married life--Meg's and mine--began with that of Ada