ter do besides 'fore dark."

"War that Satan?" asked Rufe abruptly.

"Whar?" exclaimed Birt, startled, and glancing hastily over his
shoulder.

"Down yander by the lick," plained Rufe.

"Naw!" said Birt, scornfully, "an' nuthin' like Satan, I'll be
bound!"

He was, however, uneasy to hear of any man down the ravine in the
neighborhood of his hidden treasure, but he could not now question
Rufe, for Jube Perkins, with mock severity, was taking the small boy
to account.

Byers was looking on, the knife idle in his hands, and his lips
distended with a wide grin in the anticipation of getting some fun
out of Rufe.

"Look-a-hyar, bub," said Jubal Perkins, with both hands in his
pockets and glaring down solemnly at Rufe; "ef ever I ketches ye
goin' of yerrands no better'n that ag'in, I'm a-goin' ter--TAN that
thar hide o' yourn."

Rufe gazed up deprecatingly, his eyes widening at the prospect.
Byers broke into a horse laugh.

"We've been wantin' some leetle varmints fur tanning ennyhow," he