ack. A fresh pie, added largely for the benefit of Young Joe and Tim,
went the way of the others. Young Joe gave a murmur of surfeited delight
as the last piece of crust disappeared; while Little Tim was gorged to
the point almost of speechlessness, and could hardly shake his head at
the proffer of more.

"Well," said George Warren, at length, "what are you two chaps doing
around here, anyway--I'll bet Joe smelled the food, clear down to the
camp."

Young Joe, in reply, turned to John Ellison, and motioned toward the
farmyard. "Give us one of those pumpkins?" he asked.

The pumpkins referred to lay in a great golden heap beside one of the
barns; and there were a few scattered ones lying out in the corn-field
beyond.

"Why, sure," responded John Ellison. "Have as many as you want." And he
added, with a sly wink at George Warren, "We give a lot of them to the
pigs. You're welcome."

Young Joe, lifting himself out of his chair with some effort, due to the
weight of pie and honey stowed within, disappeared through the door. He
returned, shortly, carrying a large handsome pumpkin on his shoulder.

"What are you going to do with it?" asked John Ellison.

Young Joe grinned. "Going to give it to Witham," he said.

In preparation for this act of generosity, Young Joe proceeded to carve
upon one side of the pumpkin a huge, grinning face. Having finished
which, with due satisfaction to artistic details, he stood off and
admired his own handiwork.

"Looks a little like Witham," he said. "Only it looks better-natured
than he does."

"You'd better let Witham alone," said George Warren, assuming the
patronizing tone of an elder brother. "He's in a bad humour these days."

"Not going to do any harm," replied Young Joe. "Going to put it up on
the flag-pole, eh Tim? Come along with us?"

"Why, if it's got to be done," said Henry Burns, speaking with the
utmost gravity, "I suppose we might as well go along and see that it's
done right and shipshape;" and he arose from his chair. So, too, the
others, save John Ellison.

"You fellows go ahead," he said, "and then come back. I don't feel like
playing a joke on Witham. I'm too much in earnest about him."

"That's so," returned Henry Burns. "I don't blame you. We'll be back in
no time."

They went down the hill, soon after, carrying the pumpkin between them
by turns. They cut across the field on the hill slope, crossed the old
bridge over the brook, and went on up the road t