THE STORY OF THE HUTCHINS GOOSE
Although Silverton was situated in a great hunting country and had lots of good shots, I never took much to hunting, perhaps because I was a poor wing-shot, and deer were too pretty to kill; but I had heard of the great flocks of geese and ducks out on the coast of Nestucca, so I went over to have a great hunt, and the first day I was there I actually found a hand of geese big enough so that when I shot into the entire bunch one on the outskirts fell. When this small goose hit the sand, he raised to his feet and ran, me after him, and after quite a run I overtook him and found only one wing broken. I always had wanted to own live wild birds and things, so I saw my chance. I carried him to the cabin carefully and cut up a cigar box lid into splints and set his wing, and I was overjoyed to see an expression in his cute little black eyes that he sort oknew I was trying to cure him instead o' kill him. He got rapidly better and I started for Silverton with him, and there astonished our family by the kindly way this Hutchins goose let me doctor his wing. Father helped me doctor him some, and finally when we took the splints off his wing his affection showed more than ever, and to tell the truth, he and I grew to be the nearest and dearest friends possible, not being of the same species. He used to follow me all over the place, and once when I was sitting down by him in the barnyard he brought me some straws, evidently wanting me to build a nest. He was a great talker and an alarmist; he would come to me after I had been away down town and try his best to tell me what had been going on in the barnyard while I had been away.
In fact, he was my real chum. When I came into the barnyard mornings when the frost was on the ground, he would greet me with all smiles, as much as a goose could
