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"Bears' big brown bears that father killed in a cave and wolves' and those of the little ermine and sable that we trap. We get much, much for the white ermine and his black tail. Father's coming in another sledge with, oh! such a big pile. Don't you hear his dogs yelp? We'll win the race yet! Ugh! hoo! hoo! ho-o-o-o! On! on! lazy ones, on, I say! don't let the old dogs catch the young ones!"

Git a extree! Ho-o-o-o!" People caught their breaths and stopped to lean and listen. Mistake in the winner of Number One? What was that? The parched voice was plain enough in that statement: "Mistake in the winner of Number One." Walker and William Bentley bored through the throng and bought a paper. Standing under the light at a saloon door, they read the exciting news.

The farmer pointed, carelessly no doubt, to a field and said, "Now you go there and drag that field. You know how, don't you? Well!" So he went and dragged that old harrow up and down, up and down, for many a weary hour. Towards dinner time he heard a voice in the distance, as of some one in distress. "Heigh! Ho-o-o-o! Say there! Stop! Sto-o-o-o-op! Hold on!"

Two or three buzzards started up from the roadside, with their horrid flapping and whiff of quills, and circled low overhead. "Heigh-h-h!" he continued soothingly. "Ho-o-o-o! somebody lost a good nag there, a six-pound shot right through his head and neck. Whoever made that shot killed two birds with one stone, sho!" He was half risen from his seat, looking back.

Often enough the long-drawn hail of the lookout in the cross-trees, "Sail ho-o-o-o!" would bring the jackies tumbling up from the forecastle, and set the officers peering anxiously through their telescopes. But the sails so sighted proved to be English, French, Spanish, any thing but American; and life aboard the "Sumter" became as dull as a fisher's where fish are not to be found.