he chance to get out, I mean.
But, sonny, you can always be a sportsman, whatever you do. A sportsman
does things because he likes them, Bobby, for no other reason--not for
money, nor to become famous, nor even to win--although all these things
may come to him and it is quite right that he take them and enjoy them.
Only he does not do the things for them, but for the pleasure of doing.
And a right man does not get pleasure in doing a thing if in any way he
takes an unfair advantage. That's being a sportsman. And, after all,
that's all I can teach you if we hunt together ten years. Do you think
you can remember that?"

"Yes, sir," replied Bobby soberly.

"There's only one other thing," went on Mr. Kincaid, "that is really
important, and it isn't necessary if you remember the other things I've
told you. It's pretty easy sometimes to do a thing because you see
everybody else doing it. Always remember that a true sportsman in every
way is about the scarcest thing they make--and the finest. So naturally
the common run of people don't live up to it. If _you_--not the thinking
you, nor even the conscience you, but the way-down-deep-in-your-heart
_you_ that you can't fool nor trick nor lie to--if that _you_ is
satisfied, it's all right." He turned and grinned humorously at his
small companion. "I've nothing but a little income and an old horse and
two dogs and a few friends, Bobby; I've lived thirty years in that
little place there; and a great many excellent people call me a
good-for-nothing old loafer, but I've learned the things I'm telling you
now, and I'm just conceited and stuck-up enough to think I've made a
howling success of it."

"_I_ don't think that," said Bobby, laying his cheek against the man's
threadbare sleeve.

"Of course you don't, Bobby," said Mr. Kincaid cheerfully, "and I'll
tell you why. It's because you and I speak the same language, although
you're a little boy and I'm a big man."

XIII

THE PLAYMATES

Early that autumn it became expedient that Mrs. Orde and Bobby should
visit Grandfather and Grandmother Orde at Redding, while Mr. Orde pushed
through certain heavy cutting in the woods. Bobby took with him his two
fonts of "real" type--one a parting present from Mr. Daggett--and his
Flobert Rifle.

The old Orde homestead covered about three acres of ground. The city had
grown up around it. The house was a three-storied stone structure, built
fifty years before, steep of roof, gabled, l