er," he said.

"No," I said, "but I think it is wrong." And I gave my reasons, which,
however, failed to carry much conviction.

"The marshal that kilt your paw," inquired Nucky, at last, "how long you
aim to let him live?"

"Till I'm good and ready for him," replied Killis; "I got a dead tree up
the hollow I practice on all the time,--there's a band breast-high
around it black with bullet-holes. Sometimes I shoot walking, and
sometimes running, and sometimes I fetch a nag up and gallop around and
shoot. When I get so I never miss, I'll ride over where he lives at and
tell him 'I'm Steve Blair's boy,' and shoot him down like a dog, and
revenge my paw, and do my duty."

[Illustration: "'I got a dead tree up the hollow I practice on all the
time.'"]

A murmur of quiet approval began with Nucky and passed around the
circle.

After the other boys went to bed, I finally extracted from Killis a
solemn promise not to perform this "duty" before he was eighteen. It was
the utmost I could accomplish,--long years of training must do the rest.

_Monday._

The first real snow yesterday, and the boys wild in consequence. On our
walk up Perilous, they found drifts in which they dived and wallowed.
Coming back I noticed that Jason was quite hoarse; and in the middle of
the night I was awakened by strange and painful sounds, as if someone
were choking to death. The night was cold, the bed warm; I lay and
listened a moment longer. Then flinging on wrapper and slippers, I ran
across the sitting-room to the upper bedroom. Jason was sitting up in
bed, gasping for breath.

[Illustration: "The first real snow yesterday, and the boys wild in
consequence."]

"What is the matter with you?" I asked.

"Croup," he croaked, between gasps.

"Did you ever have it before?"

"I follow havin' it."

"Why didn't you tell me it was coming on?"

"Afeared you'd whup me."

I wrung my hands. "Cleo," I called back, "what in the world should be
done for croup?"

But for once her resources failed. "Some ties grease around their
necks," she said.

I have a maxim, "when in doubt try a hot-water-bag". Desperately
stirring the fire in my grate, I put on water, and while it was heating
spread vaseline on a handkerchief. Then flying back to Jason, I slapped
first the handkerchief, then the hot bag, upon his chest. Apparently the
child was choking to death,--I was terribly frightened,--the water may
have been a little over-hot. At any rat