hat part of the game; while Phil, he takes care of the running gear.
Anyhow, no matter, you're welcome to stay with us on the trip. We're
glad to know the fellow who dared lick that big bully of a Bob
Brashears, see?"

The boy let his head drop. Perhaps it was because he did not want to
let these generous fellows see the tear in his eye, and of which he was
possibly ashamed, though without reason.

"Say, that's right kind of you both," he exclaimed presently, when he
could look them in the eyes without winking. "And I'm gwine to say yes
right away. I wanted to stay up here yet a while; but I saw the town
was gettin' too hot foh me; and I made a fix with a friend I got thar,
so's I could know how it all came out. Yep, I'll stick with you, and
be glad in the bargain."

"What might your name be?" asked Larry, frankly.

"Tony," came the immediate answer; but although it might be supposed
that the swamp boy had another name besides, he somehow did not seem to
think it worth while to mention the same--or else had some reason for
keeping it unspoken.

"Well," remarked Phil, who had listened to the way the other spoke with
more or less surprise; "I must say that if you do live in the swamp,
and your folks are a wild lot, according to what these people around
here say, you talk better than any of the boys we've yet run across
since we struck this place. Ten to one you've been to school a time,
Tony?"

The swamp boy smiled, and shook his head in the negative.

"Never seen the inside of a school in my born days till we come up here
a while back, me an' little Madge. But my mother didn't always live in
the swamps. Once she taught school down in Pensacola. Dad met her
when he was ferryin' shingles, an' that's how it came around. She says
as how her children ain't a-goin' to grow up like heathen, if they does
have little but rags to wear. And so she showed me how to read, and
I'm wantin' to get more books. Looky here, this is one I bought since
we kim up the river," and as he spoke he drew out from the inside of
his faded and torn flannel shirt a rather soiled volume.

"Robinson Crusoe!" exclaimed Phil, as he vividly remembered the time
away back when he too had treasured the volume so dear to the heart of
the average boy at a certain age. "Well, Tony, I'm going to make you a
promise, that when I get home again there's going to come down this way
a box of books that will make you happy. Just to think of it, a b