og. Turk was
lying on his side by the fire, and at this piercing screech he had
merely lifted his head, looked backward over his shoulder, turned his
big sad eyes on his master, then laid down again.

"Turk don't take no stock in it."

"Dogs never hear a Banshee," objected Sam, "no more than they can see
a ghost; anyway, that's what Granny de Neuville says." So the Dog's
negative testimony was the reverse of comforting.

"Hawkeye," said the Woodpecker, "you're the bravest one of the crowd.
Don't you want to go out and try a shot at the Banshee? I'll lend you
my Witch-hazel arrow. We'll give you a _grand coup_ feather if
you hit him. Go ahead, now--you know bravery is what _you_ like."

"Yer nothin' but a passel o' blame dumb fools," was the answer, "an' I
wouldn't be bothered talking to ye. Caleb, tell us something about the
Indians."

"What the Injuns love is bravery," said the Medicine Man with a
twinkle in his eye, and everybody but Guy laughed, not very loudly,
for each was restrained by the thought that _he_ would rather not
be called upon to show his bravery to-night.

"I'm going to bed," said Hawkeye with unnecessary energy.

"Don't forget to roost under the waterspout you started when you got
funny," remarked the Woodpecker.

Yan soon followed Guy's example, and Sam, who had already learned to
smoke, sat up with Caleb. Not a word passed between them until after
Guy's snore and Yan's regular puffs told of sound sleep, when Sam,
taking advantage of a long-awaited chance, opened out rather abruptly:

"Say, Caleb, I ain't going to side with no man against Da, but I know
him just about as well as he knows me. Da's all right; he's plumb and
square, and way down deep he's got an awful kind heart; it's pretty
deep, I grant you, but it's there, O.K. The things he does on the
quiet to help folks is done on the quiet and ain't noticed. The things
he does to beat folks--an' he does do plenty--is talked all over
creation. But I know he has a wrong notion of you, just as you have of
him, and it's got to be set right."

Sam's good sense was always evident, and now, when he laid aside his
buffoonery, his voice and manner were very impressive--more like those
of a grown man than of a fifteen-year-old boy.

Caleb simply grunted and went on smoking, so Sam continued, "I want to
hear your story, then Ma an' me'll soon fix Da."

The mention of "Ma" was a happy stroke. Caleb had known her from youth
as a kind-hearted g