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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"The Young Forester"

This time Buell had no answer ready, and sat nursing his head.
"Wal, I hev a little headache myself, an' the crack I got wasn't nothin' to
yourn," concluded Bud. Then Bill began packing the supplies indoors, and
Herky started a fire. Bud kept a sharp eye on me; still, he made no
objection when I walked over and lay down upon the blankets near Dick.
"Dick, I shot a bear and helped to tie up a cub," I said. And then I told
him all that had happened from the time I scrambled out of the spring-hole
till I was discovered up in the loft. Dick shook his head, as if he did
not know what to make of me, and all he said was that he would give a
year's pay to have me safe back in Pennsylvania.
Herky-Jerky announced supper in his usual manner--a challenge to find as
good a cook as he was, and a cheerful call to "grub." I did not know what
to think of his kindness to me. Remembering how he had nearly drowned me in
the spring, I resented his sudden change. He could not do enough for me. I
asked the reason for my sudden popularity.
Herky scratched his head and grinned. "Yep, kid, you sure hev riz in my
estimashun."
"Hey, you rummy cow-puncher," broke in Bud, scornfully. "Mebbe you'd like
the kid more'n you do if you'd got one of them wollops."
"Bud, I ain't sayin'," replied Herky, with his mouth full of meat.


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