ts my apron pocket. Father wanted me to change his name and call
him Oliver P. Morton, after a friend of his, but I told him this doll
had to be called by the name he came with, and if he wanted me to have
one named for his friend, to get it, and I'd play with it."

"What did he do?"

"He didn't want one named Morton that much."

Mr. Pryor took Dick Oglesby in his fingers and looked at his curly
black hair and blue eyes, his chubby outstretched arms, like a baby
when it wants you to take it, and his plump little feet and the white
shirt with red stripes all a piece of him as he was made, and said:
"The honourable governor of our sister state seems a little weighty; I
am at a loss to understand how he swims."

"It's a new way," I said. "He just stands still and the water swims
around him. It's very easy for him."

Then I carried Dick to the water, waded in and stood him against a
stone. Something funny happened instantly. It always did. I found it
out one day when I got some apple butter on the governor giving him a
bite of my bread, and put him in the wash bowl to soak. He was two and
a half inches tall; but the minute you stood him in water he went down
to about half that height and spread out to twice his size around. You
should have heard Mr. Pryor.

"If you will lie on the bank and watch you'll have more to laugh at
than that," I promised.

He lay down and never paid the least attention to his clothes. Pretty
soon a little chub fish came swimming around to make friends with
Governor Oglesby, and then a shiner and some more chub. They nibbled
at his hands and toes, and then went flashing away, and from under the
stone came backing a big crayfish and seized the governor by the leg
and started dragging him, so I had to jump in and stop it. I took a
shot at the crayfish with the tiger ammunition and then loaded for
lions.

We went on until the marsh became a thicket of cattails, bulrushes,
willow bushes, and blue flags; then I found a path where the lions left
the jungle, hid Mr. Pryor and told him he must be very still or they
wouldn't come. At last I heard one. I touched Mr. Pryor's sleeve to
warn him to keep his eyes on the trail. Pretty soon the lion came in
sight. Really it was only a little gray rabbit hopping along, but when
it was opposite us, I pinged it in the side, it jumped up and turned a
somersault with surprise, and squealed a funny little squeal,--well, I
wondered if Mr. Pryor's