and songs of love and daring, we had a memorable night. When we
went to our room, near twelve o'clock, I told D'ri of our dear
friends, who, all day, had been much in my thought.

"Wus the letter writ by her?" he inquired.

"Not a doubt of it."

"Then it's all right," said he. "A likely pair o' gals them
air--no mistake."

"But I think they made me miss the bear," I answered.

"Ray," said D'ri, soberly, "when yer shutin' a bear, ef ye want
'im, don't never think o' nuthin' but the bear." Then, after a
moment's pause, he added: "Won't never hev no luck killin' a bear
ef ye don' quit dwellin' so on them air gals."

I thanked him, with a smile, and asked if he knew Eagle Island.

"Be'n all over it half a dozen times," said he. "'T ain' no more
'n twenty rod from the Yankee shore, thet air island ain't. We
c'u'd paddle there in a day from our cove."

And that was the way we planned to go,--by canoe from our
landing,--and wait for the hour at Paleyville, a Yankee village
opposite the island. We would hire a team there, and convey the
party by wagon to Leraysville.

We were off at daybreak, and going over the hills at a lively