onderingly, and then cupped one over each trembling knee
to steady himself. He outlined his dry lips with the tip of his
tongue, and breathed in heavy gusts. He glanced toward the thorn tree.

"Left his gun," he hoarsely whispered, "an' it's fine as a fiddle.
Lock, stock, an' barrel just a-shinin'. An' all that heap o' leather
fixin's. Must a-cost a lot o' money. Said he wasn't fit to use 'em!
Lept the fence like a panther, an' cut dirt across the corn field. An'
left me the gun! Well! Well! Well! Wonder what I said? I must a-been
almost FIERCE."

"See here! See here!" shrilled the Cardinal.

Abram looked him over carefully. He was quivering with fear, but in no
way injured.

"My! but that was a close call, ol' fellow" said, Abram. "Minute
later, an' our fun 'ud a-been over, an' the summer jest spoiled.
Wonder if you knew what it meant, an' if you'll be gun-shy after this.
Land knows, I hope so; for a few more such doses 'ull jest lay me up."

He gathered himself together at last, set the gun over the fence, and
climbing after it, caught Nancy, who had feasted to plethora on young
corn. He fastened up the trace-chains, and climbing to her back, laid
the gun across his lap and rode to the barn. He attended the mare with
particular solicitude, and bathed his face and hands in the water
trough to make himself a little more presentable to Maria. He started
to the house, but had only gone a short way when he stopped, and after
standing in thought for a time, turned back to the barn and gave Nancy
another ear of corn.

"After all, it was all you, ol' girl," he said, patting her shoulder,
"I never on earth could a-made it on time afoot."

He was so tired he leaned for support against her, for the unusual
exertion and intense excitement were telling on him sorely, and as he
rested he confided to her: "I don't know as I ever in my life was so
riled, Nancy. I'm afraid I was a little mite fierce."

He exhibited the gun, and told the story very soberly at supper time;
and Maria was so filled with solicitude for him and the bird, and so
indignant at the act of the hunter, that she never said a word about
Abram's torn clothing and the hours of patching that would ensue. She
sat looking at the gun and thinking intently for a long time; and then
she said pityingly:

"I don't know jest what you could a-said 'at 'ud make a man go off an'
leave a gun like that. Poor fellow! I do hope, Abram, you didn't come
dow