that's none o' my
business. I 'spect the old fellow will have to get out an' scratch for
himself pretty soon."

"He seems kind-hearted," said Yan.

"Ah, he's got an awful temper, an' when he gets drunk he'd do
anything. Other times he's all right."

"Well, how is it about the farm?" Sam asked. "Doesn't he own it?"

"No, I guess not now. I don't r'aly know. I only hear them say. Av
coorse, Saryann ain't his own daughter. She's nowt o' kin, but he has
no one else, and Dick was my hired man--a purty slick feller with his
tongue; he could talk a bird off a bush; but he was a good worker. He
married Sary and persuaded the old man to deed them the place, him to
live in comfort with them to the end of his days. But once they got
the place, 'twas aisy to see that Dick meant to get rid o' Caleb, an'
the capsheaf was put last year, about his Dog, old Turk. They wouldn't
have him 'round. They said he was scaring the hens and chasing sheep,
which is like enough, for I believe he killed wan ov my lambs, an' I'd
give ten dollars to have him killed--making sure 'twas him, av coorse.
Rather than give up the Dog, Caleb moved out into the shanty on the
creek at the other end of the place. Things was better then, for Dick
and Saryann let up for awhile an' sent him lots o' flour an' stuff,
but folks say they're fixin' it to put the old man out o' that and get
shet of him for good. But I dunno; it's none o' my business, though he
does blame me for putting Dick up to it."

"How's the note-book?" as Raften's eye caught sight of the open
sketch-book still in Yan's hand.

"Oh, that reminds me," was the reply. "But what is this?" He showed
the hoof-mark be had sketched. Raften examined it curiously.

"H-m, I dunno'; 'pears to me moighty loike a big Buck. But I guess
not; there ain't any left."

"Say, Da," Sam persisted, "wouldn't you be sore if you was an old man
robbed and turned out?"

"Av coorse; but I wouldn't lose in a game of swap-horse, an' then go
gunnin' after the feller. If I had owt agin him I'd go an' lick him or
be licked, an' take it all good-natured. Now that's enough. We'll talk
about something else."

"Will you buy me another note-book next time you go to Downey's Dump?
I don't know how much it will cost or I'd give you the money," said
Yan, praying mentally that it be not more than the five or ten cents
which was all his capital.

"Shure; I'll charge it up. But ye needn't wait till next week.
Thayer's one back a