before it was fairly
assumed; when, up with a flourish, flew the little naked heels, as high
as the little coon-skin cap had been, and backward tumbled the household
idol into a dense clump of pea-vines which, with a smart sprinkling of
briers, grew in the fence-corner behind him. In an instant the little
man had vanished, and there instead lay sprawling a yelling urchin; the
yelling, however, considerably smothered by his coon-skin cap rammed
down over his mouth, and by his two shirts turned up over his head. With
a swing of his huge limbs that made the knitted panels shake and rattle,
Burl had flung himself over the fence, and was now engaged in the
ticklish task of extricating his little master from amongst the vines
and briers, the latter being just sufficiently thick to spice the
disaster. When he had succeeded in fishing him out, pulled down the
shirts, and pushed up the cap, he began vigorously rubbing the bare
young legs with the palm of his hand, spitting upon it, the better, as
he said, to draw out the smarting and the stinging of the
brier-scratches. Then setting his idol, still howling, upon his own
panel of the fence, Burl began looking about him with wide-open eyes, as
if in quest of something lost, wondering the while what could have
become of his little man.

"Has he tuck de wings uf a duck an' flew away?"--giving a broad stare at
the open sky, then, with a disappointed shake of the head, added:
"N-o-h. Has he tuck de claws uf a coon an' clum a tree?"--attentively
scanning the tree-tops. "N-o-h," with another disappointed shake of the
head. "May be he's changed hisself into a groun'-squirrel, an' crep'
into a hollow log"--peeping narrowly into the hollow trunk of a fallen
tree near by, "N-o-h. Den whar can my little man a-went to?"--now quite
desperate, taking a general survey of the neighboring country, and
scratching his back with the knuckle of his thumb. "'Pon my honor, I
b'lieve he's plowin' on tudder side de fiel'; thought I heerd him
a-whistlin ober dar"--feigning to listen for a moment. "N-o-h; jes' Bob
White a-whistlin' ober dar. Den sholey he's tuck his gun an' went to de
lick to shoot us a buffalo calf for dinner; or, if not dat, he's went a
Injun-huntin' wid my frien' Cap'n Kenton. Sho's you bawn, he's went a
Injun-huntin' wid my frien' Cap'n Kenton. W'y, dar he is!" exclaimed he
with delighted surprise, bringing his eyes at last to bear upon his
little master, who, having made a manful effo