welling spring which ran in a bright little rivulet to the larger stream, was the spring-house. Here, after the warm days came, the milk and butter were kept, and here Frale sauntered down — his gun slung across his arm, his powder-horn at his belt, in his old clothes — with his trousers thrust in his boot-tops — to search for provisions for the day and his breakfast as well. He had no mind to allow the family to oppose his action or reason him out of his course.

He found a jug of buttermilk placed there the evening before for Hoyle to carry to the doctor in the morning, and slung it by a strap over his shoulder. In one of the sheds lay two chickens, ready dressed to be cut up for the frying-pan, and one of these, with a generous strip of salt pork from the keg of dry salt where it was kept, he dropped in