"That seems reasomble," said Jim, "but it ain't. A trout's a trout
anywhere, an' ye hain't got no reel. Ye never fished with anything but a
white birch pole in yer life."

Yates was amused, and laughed. Jim did not laugh. He was just as sure
that Yates had come on some errand, for which his fishing tackle was a
cover, as that he had come at all. He could think of but one motive that
would bring the man into the woods, unless he came for sport, and for
sport he did not believe his visitor had come at all. He was not dressed
for it. None but old sportsmen, with nothing else to do, ever came into
the woods at that season.

"Jim, introduce me to your friend," said Yates, turning to Mr. Benedict,
who had dropped his knife and fork, and sat uneasily witnessing the
meeting, and listening to the conversation.

"Well, I call 'im Number Ten. His name's Williams; an' now if ye ain't
too tired, perhaps ye'll tell us what they call ye to home."

"Well, I'm Number Eleven, and my name's Williams, too."

"Then, if yer name's Williams, an' ye're Number 'leven, ye want some
supper. Set down an' help yerself."

Before taking his seat, Yates turned laughingly to Mr. Benedict, shook
his hand, and "hoped for a better acquaintance."

Jim was puzzled. The man was no ordinary man; he was good-natured; he
was not easily perturbed; he was there with a purpose, and that purpose
had nothing to do with sport After Yates had satisfied his appetite
with the coarse food before him, and had lighted his cigar, Jim drove
directly at business.

"What brung ye here?" said he.

"A pair of horses and a birch canoe."

"Oh! I didn't know but 'twas a mule and a bandanner hankercher," said
Jim; "and whar be ye goin' to sleep to-night?"

"In the canoe, I suppose, if some hospitable man doesn't invite me to
sleep in his cabin."

"An' if ye sleep in his cabin, what be ye goin' to do to-morrer?"

"Get up."

"An' clear out?"

"Not a bit of it."

"Well, I love to see folks make themselves to home; but ye don't sleep
in no cabin o' mine till I know who ye be, an' what ye're arter."

"Jim, did you ever hear of entertaining angels unaware?" and Yates
looked laughingly into his face.

"No, but I've hearn of angels entertainin' theirselves on tin-ware, an'
I've had 'em here."

"Do you have tin peddlers here?" inquired Yates, looking around him.

"No, but we have paupers sometimes," and Jim looked Yates directly in
the eye.

"What paupers?"

"