he mought ez well hev the rest o' ter-day. He 'lowed ez he warn't
partic'lar 'bout a day off, now. But I tole him ennyhow ter go
along. I seen him a while ago passin' through the woods, with his
rifle on his shoulder--gone huntin', I reckon."

"GONE HUNTIN'!" ejaculated Rufe in dudgeon, joining unceremoniously
in the conversation of his elders. "Now, Birt mought hev let me
know! I'd hev wanted ter go along too."

"Mebbe that air the reason he never tole ye, bub," said Perkins
dryly.

For he could appreciate that Rufe's society was not always a boon,
although he took a lenient view of the little boy. Any indulgence
of Birt was more unusual, and Andy Byers experienced some surprise
to hear of the unwonted sylvan recreations of the young drudge. He
noticed that the mule was off duty too, grazing among the bushes
just beyond the fence, and hobbled so that he could not run away.
This precaution might have seemed a practical joke on the mule, for
the poor old animal was only too glad to stand stock still.

Rufe continued his exclamatory indignation.

"Jes' ter go lopin' off inter the woods huntin', 'thout lettin' ME
know! An' I never gits ter go huntin' nohow! An' mam won't let me
tech Birt's rifle, 'thout it air ez empty ez a gourd! She say she
air feared I'll shoot my head off, an' she don't want no boys,
'thout heads, jouncin' round her house--shucks! Which way did Birt
take, Mister Perkins?--'kase I be goin' ter ketch up."