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"Get yir hat oot o' there," and Cosh sent Ernest's straw skimming into the forbidden "well." Molyneux's face turned crimson, for he had inherited the temper which mistressed "Gypsy," and boys who remembered Speug's first exploit expected to see the newcomer spring at Cosh's face. "You mean that for f-fun, I s'pose," he said an instant later, and he recovered his hat very neatly.
I heard the firing and tried to get loose, but couldn't. "A young Injun came along and had some f-fun throwing his tomahawk at the tree, just over my head, seeing how near he could come to it without hitting me. "After he had done this half a dozen times, he stood in front of me, and said, 'Ugh! Me big Injun. I said, 'Yes, you big Injun.
It was a subject he naturally felt somewhat sensitive about, and in spite of the open honesty of the young girl's face, he could not help doubting for a moment the sincerity of her speech. "L-l-like f-fun yer do," he growled uneasily. "A-a-anyhow, whut are yer d-d-doin' yere?"
"This is f-fun, Ben. A whole herd of d-deer waiting to be knocked over. Oh, my feet!" He limped along, and the sweat stood out on his face. "It's no use, Ben. I can't do it. I call that t-tough luck to be cheated out of the best chance for hunting I ever had. Good-by." He felt as bad over it as a boy of twelve would to lose Thanksgiving dinner. We divided into two parties.
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