ver since I first knew you! But you never
have been, and I haven't a thought that you ever will go!"

"Well, but something has always come up to prevent it, Ruth," Gramp
replied hastily.

"Yes, Joseph, and something will come up to prevent it this year, too."

It was at this point that the second early caller had his arrival
announced. Little Wealthy, who had stolen out to watch Aunt Olive's
departure and then gone to the barn to see to her own small brood of
chicks, came running in headlong and cried, "Oh, Gram! Gram! a great big
fox has got one of your geese--on his back--and is running away!"

"What!" exclaimed Gram, setting the heavy coffee-pot down again with a
roiling bump. "Oh, Lord, what a morning. Where, child, where?"

"Out beyond the west barn!" cried Wealthy; but by this time Addison,
Halse and I were out of doors, in pursuit.

Beyond the west barn, there was a little hollow, or swale, where a
spring issued; and a few rods below the spring, a dam had been
constructed across the swale to form a goose-pond for Gram's flock. It
was a muddy, ill-smelling place; but hither the geese would always
waddle forth of a summer morning, and spend most of the day, wading and
swimming, with occasional loud outcries.

As we turned the corner of the barn, we met the flock--minus
one--beating a retreat to the goose-shed. But the fox was not in sight.

"Which way did he go, Wealth?" cried Addison, for Wealthy had run after
us, full of her important news.

"Right across the west field," she exclaimed. "He had the old goose on
his back, and it was trying to squall, but couldn't."

"Get the gun, Halse!" exclaimed Addison. "No, it isn't loaded! Bother!
But come on. The fox cannot run far with one of those heavy geese,
without resting. He is probably behind the pasture wall."

We set off at speed across the field and heard Gram calling out to us,
"Chase him, boys! Chase the old thief. You may make him drop it."

Away through the grass, laden with dew and "hopper spits," we careered,
and came on the trail of the fox where he had brushed off the dew as he
ran. But the rogue was not behind the pasture wall.

"Keep on," cried Addison, "he cannot run fast." We crossed the pasture
and entered the sugar maple grove between the pasture and the Aunt
Hannah Lot. As it chanced, the fox was lurking in the high brakes here,
having stopped to rest, no doubt, as Addison had conjectured. We did not
come upon him here, however; for wa