needlework, and never, in all that time, have missed his aim, or lost
his way, or forgotten to say his prayers, for aught he could have seen
in their glitter and gleam to daze and cheat him out of his sober
senses.

And why? Because Ben Logan was not a wild dreamer. In other words,
because he was one of the best boys that ever lived; so good, indeed,
that he could not have been more invincible to Manitou spells, even had
he been armed with Tom Walker's pocket bible and worn it perpetually in
his bosom. Nick of the Woods himself could never befuddle the wits of
such a boy, even were he, too, minded to make the trial and exert his
Manitou utmost to that end; though, to do him justice, the Manitou king
was perfectly willing--glad, you may have it--to let Ben Logan alone. He
knew very well that he could do nothing for the bettering of such a boy,
which nature--best of mothers--had not done for him already. No need to
set Ben's heart a-bleeding to develop the good that was in it, or to
crumble up the evil.

Now, there are people who, though given to swallowing their own camels,
are just as given to straining at other people's gnats; and these of
course, being incredulous as to what I have just affirmed, must need
some further proof to remove their doubts. They shall have only to read
what follows.

One pleasant afternoon, as Ben Logan was ranging the wilderness,
catering for his little sick friend, Nick of the Woods caught
Will-o'-the-Wisp and Manitou-Echo amusing themselves at the young
hunter's expense. They would set the trees and bushes to waving their
tops and fluttering their leaves, where there was no wind; smoke to
rising, where there was no fire; fire to burning, where there was no
fuel; shadows to flitting and dodging about, where there were no visible
forms; echoes to calling and answering each other, where there were no
audible voices. Then would the elfish rogues fall to laughing and
skipping about in the most extravagant manner to witness the big, young
mortal's demonstrations of amazement: how he would open wide his eyes to
stare this way, and wider still to stare that way; how he would cock
first one ear, then the other, to listen; yes, and how he cocked his
gun, too, ready to let fly the unerring bullet, the moment whatever it
was--man, or varmint, or goblin--might dare to expose but so much as the
head or tail of itself for a mark.

"Imps!" cried the Manitou king, "let Ben Logan alone! There's nothing