we have seen separating from the individual in whose pursuit
they were now engaged. The deformed quietly rode along with the party,
but without seeming to recognise their existence--singing all the while
a strange woodland melody of the time and region--probably the
production of some village wit:--

"Her frock it was a _yaller_,
And she was _mighty sprigh_
And she bounced at many a _feller_
Who came _a-fighting shy_.

"Her eye was like a _sarpent's eye_.
Her cheek was like a flower,
But her tongue was like a pedler's clock,
'Twas a-striking every hour.

"And wasn't she the gal for me,
And wasn't she, I pray, sir,
And I'll be _drot_, if you say not,
We'll fight this very day, sir.
We'll fight this very day, sir."

Having delivered himself of this choice morsel of song, the half-witted
fellow conceitedly challenged the attention of the group whom he had not
hitherto been disposed to see.

"'Spose you reckon I don't see you, riding 'longside of me, and saying
nothing, but listening to my song. I'm singing for my own self, and you
oughtn't to listen--I didn't ax you, and I'd like to know what you're
doing so nigh Chub's house."

"Why, where's your house, Chub?" asked one of the party.

"You ain't looking for it, is you? 'cause you can't think to find it
a-looking down. I lives in the tree-top when weather's good like
to-night, and when it ain't, I go into the hollow. I've a better house
than Guy Rivers--he don't take the tree at all, no how."

"And where is his house, Chub?" was the common inquiry of all the party.
The dwarf looked at them for a few moments without speech, then with a
whisper and a gesture significant of caution, replied--

"If you're looking for Guy, 'tain't so easy to find him if he don't want
to be found, and you must speak softly if you hunt him, whether or no.
He's a dark man, that Guy Rivers--mother always said so--and he lives a
long way under the ground."

"And can't you show us where, Chub? We will give you money for your
service."

"Hain't you got 'tatoes? Chub's hungry--hain't eat nothing to-night. Guy
Rivers has plenty to eat, but he cursed Chub's mother."

"Well, show us where he is, and we'll give you plenty to eat. Plenty of
potatoes and corn," was the promise of the party.

"And build up Chub's house that the fire burnt? Chub lives in the tree
now. Guy Rivers' man burnt Chub's house, 'cause he said Chub was s