ten-pronger than to raise an acre
of corn, and I don't care who knows it. There's a place in the world
for just such a man as I am yet, and will be till these old woods are
gone. Do you see that?" said he, rolling up his pantaloons to his
knees, revealing a deep scar on both sides of the calf of his leg, as
if it had been pierced by a bullet. "And do you see that?" as he
exhibited another deep scar above his knee. "And that?" as he showed
another on his arm, above the elbow. "Wal, I reckon I had a time of it
with the old buck that made them things on my under-pinin', and on my
corn-stealer, as they say out West. Fifteen years ago I was over on
Tupper's Lake, shantyin' on the high bank above the rocks, just at the
outlet, fishin' and huntin', and layin' around loose, in a promiscuous
way, all alone by myself, havin' nobody along but the old black dog
that you," appealing to Hank Wood, who nodded assent, remember. "That
dog," continued Cullen, "was human in his day, and if anybody has
another like him, and wants a couple of months lumberin' in the place
of him, I'm ready for a trade; he may call at my shanty. Wal, Crop and
I had Seen about all there was to be looked at about Tupper's Lake,
and havin' hearn some pretty tall stories about the deer and moose up
about the head of Bog River from an Ingen who'd hunted that section, I
mentioned to Crop one mornin' that we'd take a trip into them parts.
'Agreed,' said he, or leastwise he didn't say a word agin it, and, by
the wag of his tail, I understood him to be agreeable.

"Mud Lake, as you've discovered, aint very near now, and it was a good
deal farther off then. The settlements hadn't been pushed so far into
the woods then as now. But we put out, Crop and I, for Mud Lake; we
passed the eight carryin' places afore night, and reached the first
chain of ponds while the sun was hangin' like a great torch in the
tree-tops. I've seen a good many deer in my day, but the way they
stood around in those ponds, and in the shallow water of the river
below, among the grass and pond lilies, was a thing to make a man open
his eyes _some._ I saw dozens of 'em at a time, and if it didn't seem
like a sheep paster I would'nt say it. I had my pick out of the lot,
and knocked over a two-year-old for provision for me and Crop. I aint
at all poetical, but if there was ever a matter to make a man feel
like stringin' rhymes, that evenin' that Crop and I spent on the lower
chain of ponds, or little