at noon Nick of the
Woods, chasing Indians, hugging bears and the like terrors of the forest
were remembered only as frightful pictures seen in a book.

Sprigg had dined; and a healthy young cub of a bear never cleaned out a
hive of honey with a keener appetite than our hero his bowl of milk and
bread. For the seventh time that day he had looked at and tried on the
moccasins, just to reassure himself that they were made for his feet and
nobody else's, and to take a few quiet turns in them about the room,
just to see if they felt as easy as they fitted well. Now, with greater
liveliness and earnestness than ever, his thoughts returned to the
matter he had so near at heart; nor would they let him rest until he had
answered the question which, for the seventh time that day, he had put
to himself: "Shall I on with the moccasins and go to grandpap's house
to-day?"

The good voice in his heart said: "No, Sprigg! No! Don't you do it!
Don't even think of such a thing! It is not mam's wish; it is not pap's
wish, that you should venture so far away, through the wild and
dangerous woods all alone! It would vex and grieve them a thousand times
more than it could possibly gratify you. So stay at home, Sprigg; stay
at home, and have a care how you let red moccasins tempt you astray!
Wait, like a good boy, until you can go with pap and mam to grandmam's
quilting."

But quickly spoke up the bad voice in his heart and said: "Go, Sprigg!
Go! By all means go, and a delightful time you shall have of it--be sure
of that. The old folks won't care so much--not so very much! When did
they care so very much for anything you had done, even though it might
not have been exactly right. So up and away to grandpap's house! and
never a fear that a pair of red moccasins could take you anywhere it
pleased you not to go."

The good voice spoke soft and low; the bad voice loud and high. Sprigg
heard the bad voice best, because he liked it best. Still, he could not
fairly make up his mind. Perhaps the moccasins could help him to decide.
He went to the chest and, for the eighth time, took them out, that the
very thing that was tempting him to do wrong might tell him what were
best to be done. As he stood there, holding up the red temptation in the
fairest light before his eyes, he thought he heard a noise, coming, he
could not tell whence, which caused him to set the moccasins hastily
down on the chest lid and look about him. Nothing was there to be s