shawl she declared that witches must have had it, for she had not
worn it since early in April when there were no cockle-burs. She
forthwith nailed a horseshoe on the door to keep the witches out,
and she never liked the shawl so well after she had projected a
mental picture of a lady wearing it, riding on a broomstick, and
sporting also a long peaked nose.

Birt hardly noticed the crusty and ungracious conduct of Andy Byers
toward him. He worked on doggedly, scheming all the time to get off
from the tanyard, and wondering again and again why Nate had gone,
and where, and when he would return.

One day--a gray day it was and threatening rain--as he came suddenly
out of the shed, he saw a boy at the bars. It was Nate Griggs! No;
only for a moment he thought this was Nate. But this fellow's eyes
were not so close together; his hair was less sandy; there were no
facial indications of extreme slyness. It was only Nathan's humble
likeness, his younger brother, Timothy.

He had Nate's coat thrown over his arm, and he shouldered his
brother's rifle.

Tim came slouching slowly into the tanyard, a good-natured grin on
his face. He paused only to knock Rufe's hat over his eyes, as the
small boy stood in front of the low-spirited mule, both hands busy
with the animal's mouth, striving to open his jaws to judge by his
teeth how old he might be.

"The critter'll bite ye, Rufe!" Birt exclaimed, for as Rufe stooped
to pick up his hat the mule showed some curiosity in his turn, and