his heart beating furiously, and a
feeling of wonderment coming over him as to why it was that he had been
so frightened over such a trifling matter.

"That's better, my lad," said Joses quietly; and as Bart gazed on the
rough fellow's face, expecting revilings and reproaches at his
cowardice, he saw that the man's bronzed and swarthy features looked
dirty and mottled, his eyes staring, and that he was dripping with
perspiration.

Just then Joses gripped him by the shoulder in a way that would have
made him wince, only he did not want to show the white feather again,
and he stood firm as his companion said:

"'Taint no use to talk like that to him. It won't touch him, Master
Bart. It's very horrid when that lays hold of you, and you can't help
it."

"No," said Bart, feeling relieved, "I could not help it."

"Course you couldn't, my lad. But now we must get old Sam back, or
he'll hang there till he faints, and then drop."

"O Joses!" cried Bart.

"I only wish we could get a bear on the bough beyond him there. That
would make him scuffle back."

"Frighten him back?" said Bart.

"Yes; one fright would be bigger than the other, and make him come,"
said Joses.

"Do you think that if we frightened him, he would try to get back then?"
whispered Bart.

"I'm sure of it," said Joses.

"Do as I do then," said Bart, as he picked up his rifle. Then speaking
loudly he exclaimed:

"Joses; we must not leave the poor fellow there to die of hunger. He
can't get back, so let's put him out of his misery at once. Where shall
I aim at? His heart?"

"No, no, Master Bart; his head. Send a bullet right through his skull,
and it'll be all over at once. You fire first."

Without a moment's hesitation, Bart rested the barrel of his rifle
against the trunk, took careful aim, and fired so that the bullet
whistled pretty closely by Sam's ear.

The man started and shuddered, seeming as if he were going to sit up,
but he relapsed into the former position. "I think I can do it, Master
Bart, this time," said Joses; and laying his piece in a notch formed by
the bark, he took careful aim, and fired, his bullet going through Sam's
hat, and carrying it off to go fluttering down into the abyss.

This time Sam did not move, and Bart gazed at Joses in despair.

"He's too artful, Master Bart," whispered the latter: "he knows we are
only doing it to frighten him. I don't know how to appeal to his
feelings, unless I was to say