cause you were in the right. But now I can handle a dozen like you. Come on, you proud child.” And he yanked with renewed energy.
“Hold him till I git there,” called Abner’s voice; “Oughter be ashamed to make a old man hurry.”
The last was a crafty appeal, for Stanley immediately ceased struggling and went limp. “I’ll go back, Bub,” he said.
“Your word is good as a million feet of old growth pine, my son,” panted Bub, gladly relinquishing his hold.
Abner stopped running when he saw the two walking towards him. When they joined him he was gravely studying the geological formation of the outcropping ledge.
“See that spruce cling to them rocks,” he admired, as if nothing had happened. “Ye wouldn’t s’pose there’d be room for a tooth pick to git a hold there, would ye? I s’pose the birds scatter most of the seeds of things that grow and it’s a case of git along, and make the best of the world ye find yerself in, eh?”
Stanley and Bub, arm and arm, proceeded slowly back to the camp, paying no attention to the old man’s prattle, while he talked incessantly, endeavoring to restore harmony of thought.
