. I've tried it."

He shoved his chair back from the table and Jim got up to take his
leave. "Look out for the door, Jimmie. Duck as you go under or it will
lay you out. Traps set all through life for fellows of your size."

Jim was not oppressed with weariness as he strode along the highway, for
in the crisp air a tonic was borne, but loss of sleep had made his
senses dreamy, and all things about him were touched with the spirit of
unreality--the dead leaves fluttering on the underbrush, the purple mist
rising from the fields, the water-mirrors flashing in the road; and so
surrendered was he to a listless brooding, forgetful even that he moved
along, that he did not notice, up the road, a man leap aside into the
woods. The man hid behind a tree, with his eye on the giant and with the
barrel of a pistol pressed hard against the bark. Jim passed on, with
his hands in his pockets, looking down; and when a clump of bushes, red
with frost-dyed leaves, hid him from view, Mayo came out from behind the
tree and resumed his journey down the road.

The Major had mounted his horse at the gate and was on the point of
riding forth when Jim came up. "Why, good-morning, James," the old
gentleman heartily greeted him. "Have you just crawled out of that old
man's kennel? I see that the old owl must have kept you up all night.
Why, sir, if I were to listen to him I'd never get another wink of
sleep."

"I kept myself up," said the giant; and then he added: "I wanted to see
you this morning, not very bad, but just to ask you to get me a box of
forty-fours when you go to Brantly to-day."

"I'm glad to find you so thoughtful," said the Major. "And I want to
tell you right now that you've got to look out for yourself. But staying
up all night is no way to begin. Go on into Tom's room and take a nap."

The Major whistled as he rode along, not for want of serious reflection,
for he could easily have reached out and drawn in trouble, but because
the sharp air stirred his spirits. Nowhere was there a cloud--a
speckless day in the middle of a week that had threatened to keep the
sky besmirched. Roving bands of negro boys were hunting rabbits in the
fields, with dogs that leaped high in low places where dead weeds stood
brittle. The pop-eyed hare was startled from his bed among brambly
vines, and fierce shouts arose like the remembered yell of a Confederate
troop. The holidays were near, the crops were gathered, the winter's
wood was up, the