, and
when he lay down after it on the grass, with the bees humming round him,
and the sound of the waters being now a pleasant ripple, instead of the
rush and roar of yesterday. He desired his dog to lie down, and not
disturb him; and he took this opportunity to change the animal's name.
Stephen Redfurn, taking up the quarrel of the day against the bishops,
would have the dog called "Bishop," and nothing else. Roger had always
wished to call him "Spy;" but Bishop would never answer to the name of
Spy, or even seem to hear it. Now, however, Bishop was to be Spy, as
there was no one here to indulge the dog with his old name; and Spy was
told so many times over, and with all the devices that could be thought
of for impressing the fact on his memory.

This lesson being given, Roger shut his eyes, and thought he would sleep
as long as he chose; but, in the first place, he found himself too much
heated for sleep. He considered that it was no wonder, after broiling
himself in making a fire to broil his hare. He wished animals ran about
ready cooked--as fruits grow on the sunny side of trees. It was too bad
to have to bustle and toil for an hour, to get ready what was eaten in
ten minutes; and it just passed through his mind that, whatever Nan
Redfurn might have sometimes said and done to him, she had usually saved
him all trouble in cooking, and had had his meals ready for him whenever
he chose to be at the tent at meal times. He rose, and thought he could
find a cooler place, further under the trees.

He did so, and again lay down. Sleep began to steal over him; and, at
the same time, the thought crept into his mind that he should never more
see Stephen Redfurn. The ideas that come when one is dropping asleep
are very vivid; and this one startled Roger so, that Spy found it out,
and pricked up his ears, as if at some alarm. This thought would not go
away; for it so happened that the last words that Stephen and Roger had
spoken together were angry ones. Stephen had ordered Roger to carry the
fry they had fished for manure to a field, where he had promised to
deposit it by a certain time. Roger had been sure that the fish would
be better for lying in the sun a while longer, and refused to touch it.
No matter which was right about the manure; both were wrong in being
angry. Stephen had said that Roger was a young rascal, who would never
come to good; and Roger had looked impertinently in his uncle's face,
while wh