as he had passed their house on his journeys to and from Sevenoaks.

"If you can take up with what we've got," said Mrs. Buffum suggestively.

"In course," responded Jim, "an' I can take up with what ye haven't
got."

"Our accommodations is very crowded," said Mrs. Buffum.

"So is mine to home," responded Jim. "I allers sleep hangin' on a
gambrel, between two slabs."

While Mr. Tom Buffum's "women" were laughing, Jim lifted off his pack,
placed his rifle in the corner of the room, and sat down in front of the
fire, running on with his easygoing tongue through preposterous
stories, and sundry flattering allusions to the beauty and
attractiveness of the women to whose hospitalities he had committed
himself.

After supper, to which he did full justice, the family drew around the
evening fire, and while Mr. Buffum went, or seemed to go, to sleep, in
his chair, his guest did his best to entertain the minor members of the
group.

"This hollerin' ye have here reminds me," said Jim, "of Number Nine.
Ther's some pretty tall hollerin' thar nights. Do ye see how my ha'r
sticks up? I can't keep it down. It riz one night jest about where you
see it now, and it's mostly been thar ever sence. Combin' don't do no
good Taller don't do no good. Nothin' don't do no good. I s'pose if Mr.
Buffum, a-snorin' jest as hard as he does now, should set on it for a