es of
old--Hercules and General Grant, Joshuay and Washington--all the mighty
fighters of history. Just one glimpse the scholars had, for the music
struck up louder, and the light glowed brighter and brighter till it
blinded them. Softer and softer the music come--the melodium, the
cordine, and the fiddle. It sounded like marchin', they said, and they
heard the tramp, tramp, tramp of the sperrit soldiers. Then there was
quiet--only the roarin' of the stove and the snuffin' of the little
ones. And when they looked up Leander was alone--settin' there on the
platform, kind of rubbin' his eyes--alone."

There was silence in the store. Josiah Nummler's pipe was going full
blast, and while the white cloud hid him from the others, I could see a
gentle smile on his fat face.

"Mighty son's!" cried Henry Holmes, "that there's unpossible."

Josiah planted his pole on the floor and lifted himself to his feet.

"It's only a fairy story, Henery," he said.

"What does it illustrate?" cried Aaron Kallaberger. "Nothin', I says.
We was talkin' about Mark and William Bellus, and you switches off on
Leander and Ernest. To a certain pint your story agrees with what my
boy told me of the doin's in the school this afternoon."

"What doing's?" I exclaimed. This talk puzzled me, and I was
determined to get to the bottom of the mystery.

"Why, wasn't you there?" cried Isaac Bolum. "Wasn't it you and
William?"

"No," I fairly shouted. "Perry Thomas had the school."

Josiah Nummler's pole clattered to the floor, and he sank into a chair.

"I see--I see," he gasped. "Poor William!"

"I see--I see," said I. "Poor William!"

For William had felt the hand of "Doogulus!"

[Illustration: William had felt the hand of "Doogulus."]

XII

It was young Colonel's first day of life. He had been born six months
before, but for him that had been simply the beginning of existence.
Now he was to live. He was to go with Captain, and with Betsy his
mother, with Arnold Arker's Mike and Major, the best of his breed, to
learn to take the trail and follow it, singing as he ran.

It was young Colonel's first day of life. He was out in the great dog
world, and about him were the mighty hunters of the valley. Arnold
Arker was there with his father's rifle, once a flint-lock, always a
piece of marvellous accuracy, and a hero as guns go, and the old man
patted the puppy and pulled his silky ears. Tip Pulsifer approved of
him. Tip