that they were brothers), had clamored for his share of the banquet.

"You haven't been lonely, Dol, I hope, have you?" said Cyrus, as a whole
flapjack, doubled over and drenched in sirup, disappeared down his
capacious throat.

"Not I," answered Dol (Adolphus Farrar, ladies and gentlemen), shutting
and opening a pair of steel-gray eyes with a sort of quick snap. "Uncle
Eb and I sat by the fire until twelve o'clock. He sang songs, and told
tip-top stories about coon hunts. I tell you it was fun! I'd rather see
a coon hunt than go out at night jacking, especially if I got a ducking
instead of a deer, like some bungling fellows I know."

"Don't be saucy, Young England, or I'll go for you when I've finished
eating," laughed Cyrus good-humoredly. "Who told you what we got?"

Dol winked at Uncle Eb, who had, indeed, entertained him with giggling
jokes about the unsuccessful hunters while they were stripping off their
wet garments.

Adolphus, being the youngest of the camping-party, was favored with the
softest pine-bough bed and the best of the limited luxuries which the
camp possessed, with unlimited nicknames,--from "Young England" to
"Shaver" or "Chick," according to the whims of his comrades.

"Say, Uncle Eb, we're having a fine old time to-night--all sorts of
experiences! I guess you may as well finish that song we interrupted
while we're finishing our meal."

"All rightee, gen'lemen!" answered the jolly guide and cook.