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It was Billy Wilson who acted promptly. Running to the stove he opened the door and lifted out the blazing wood and, at the risk of scorching himself badly, ran with it from the room. Mrs. Wilson, at this particular moment, was in the mood to grant almost any request. "Why Willium," she said eagerly, "go seek him and bring him back home. Never ag'in will I wish him dead, poor little feller. But," she added as though realizing that her softened mood had carried her a little too far, "you see you get back here in time for supper er I'm liable to tan you good." He coloured brightly at this, and his frown was as though a shadow had come between him and the light that revealed his face..

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"I'm the feller that owns the coon you tried to club to death," Billy answered. "Oh!" she cried commiseratingly. She came closer to him—so close that her very nearness made him dizzy with joy. With a tiny handkerchief she wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He picked up his hat and bounded outside. He found Croaker seated on the chicken yard fence, gravely surveying his ancient and mortal enemy, the old game cock, and whispering guttural insults that fairly made the rooster bristle with anger. At the sound of the girl's voice the swamp coon had dropped the cookie, and as she swept him into her arms his slender red tongue darted forth to give the curling tress above her ear an affectionate caress. Ringdo recognized in Erie the playmate who used to romp with him and stray with him along spongy moss and clayey ditches..