way back to the tent over some very rough fields. It was a poor day for birds, and I did not get a shot.
"What a foolish man!" said Euphemia, when I told her the above incident, "to talk that way when you stood there with a gun in your hand. You might nave raked his waggon, fore and aft."
"My horse is skittish"
That afternoon, as Euphemia and I were sitting under a tree by the tent, we were very much surprised to see Pomona come walking down the peninsula.
I was annoyed and provoked at this. We had given Pomona positive orders not to leave the place under any pretence while we were gone. If necessary to send for anything, she could go to the fence, back of the barn, and scream across a small field to some of the numerous members of old John's family. Under this arrangement I felt that the house was perfectly safe.
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