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Updated: June 16, 2025
One of them was Char-less Boyle; the other was old Moore, poor as a church mouse, but a genial soul, and really put on the Board as a lubricant between Boyle and Raften. Boyle was much the more popular. But Raften was always made trustee, for the people knew that he would take extremely good care of funds and school as well as of scholars.
Raften followed, after asking if it would be safe for him to come along. The grizzly old Woodchuck was there feeding in a bunch of clover. The boys sneaked under the fence, crawling through the grass in true Injun fashion, till the Woodchuck stood up to look around, then they lay still; when he went down they crawled again, and all got within forty yards.
On the road he gathered a handful of flowers and herbs. His reception by the old woman was very different this time. "Come in, come in, God bless ye, an' hoo air ye, an' how is yer father an' mother come in an' set down, an' how is that spalpeen, Sam Raften?" "Sam's all right now," said Yan with a blush. "All right! Av coorse he's all right.
But there was also time nearly every day for other things more in the line of his tastes; for even if he were hard on the boys in work hours, Raften saw to it that when they did play they should have a good time.
"I came I we wanted to ask some questions if you don't mind." "What might yer name be?" "Yan." "An' who is this?" "He's my chum, Sam." "I'm Sam Horn," said Sam, with some truth, for he was Samuel Horn Raften, but with sufficient deception to make Yan feel very uncomfortable. "And where are ye from?" "Bonnerton," said Yan. "To-day?" was the rejoinder, with a tone of doubt.
He had threatened to tell his "paw" and "the teacher," and all the world, but finally he threatened to tell Mr. Raften. This was the nearest to a home thrust of any yet, and in some uneasiness the Woodpecker turned to Little Beaver and said: "Brother Chief, do you comprehend the language of the blithering Paleface? What does he say?" "Ugh, I know not," was the reply.
"How's the note-book?" as Raften's eye caught sight of the open sketch-book still in Yan's hand. "Oh, that reminds me," was the reply. "But what is this?" He showed the hoof-mark be had sketched. Raften examined it curiously. "H-m, I dunno'; 'pears to me moighty loike a big Buck. But I guess not; there ain't any left."
"Many a night me an' Caleb Clark slep' out this way on this very crick when them fields was solid bush. Do ye know how to make a bed?" "Don't know a thing," and Sam winked at Yan. "Show us." "I'll show ye the rale thing. Where's the axe?" "Haven't any," said Yan. "There's a big tomahawk and a little tomahawk." Raften grinned, took the big "tomahawk" and pointed to a small Balsam Fir.
"Air you fellers roostin' here now?" said Sappy in surprise, as he noted the bed as well as the pots and pans. "Yep." "Well, I wanter, too. If I kin git hol' o' Maw 'thout Paw, it'll be O.K." "You let on we don't want you and Paw'll let you come. Tell him Ole Man Raften ordered you off the place an' he'll fetch you here himself."
He had often laughed at Granny de Neuville's active hatred against him when he had done her nothing but good. It never occurred to him that he was acting a similar part. Most men would have been furious at the disrespectful manner of their son, but Raften was as insensitive as he was uncowardly. His first shock of astonishment over, his only thought of Sam was, "Hain't he got a cheek!
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