would rejoice in worrying _his_ life out, as Bull and his crowd were
destroying the poor raccoon. When Bull at last seized the raccoon and
put an end to it, Ralph could not but admire the decided way in which he
did it, calling to mind Bud's comment, "Ef Bull once takes a holt,
heaven and yarth[8] can't make him let go."

But as they walked home, Bud carrying the raccoon by the tail, Ralph
felt that his hunt had not been in vain. He fancied that even red-eyed
Bull, walking uncomfortably close to his heels, respected him more
since he had climbed that tree.

"Purty peart kind of a master," remarked the old man to Bud, after Ralph
had gone to bed. "Guess you better be a little easy on him. Hey?"

But Bud deigned no reply. Perhaps because he knew that Ralph heard the
conversation through the thin partition.

Ralph woke delighted to find it raining. He did not want to hunt or fish
on Sunday, and this steady rain would enable him to make friends with
Bud. I do not know how he got started, but after breakfast he began to
tell stories. Out of all the books he had ever read he told story after
story. And "old man Means," and "old _Miss_ Means," and Bud Means, and
Bill Means, and Sis Means listened with great eyes while he told of
Sinbad's adventures, of the Old Man of the Sea, of Robinson Crusoe, of
Captain Gulliver's experiences in Liliput, and of Baron Munchausen's
exploits.

Ralph had caught his fish. The hungry minds of these backwoods people
were refreshed with the new life that came to their imaginations in
these stories. For there was but one book in the Means library, and
that, a well-thumbed copy of "Captain Riley's Narrative," had long since
lost all freshness.

"I'll be dog-on'd[9]," said Bill, emphatically, "ef I hadn't 'ruther
hear the master tell them whoppin' yarns than to go to a circus the best
day I ever seed!" Bill could pay no higher compliment.

What Ralph wanted was to make a friend of Bud. It's a nice thing to
have the seventy-four-gun ship on your own side, and the more Hartsook
admired the knotted muscles of Bud Means the more he desired to attach
him to himself. So, whenever he struck out a peculiarly brilliant
passage, he anxiously watched Bud's eye. But the young Philistine kept
his own counsel. He listened, but said nothing, and the eyes under his
shaggy brows gave no sign. Ralph could not tell whether those eyes were
deep and inscrutable or only stolid. Perhaps a little of both. When
Monda