THE "PAINTER" IN THE PIG PEN. 337 



away one minit as loud as he could bawl, and at another 

 minit callin' to me to come and help him. 



" ' Run,' sez I to the old woman, ' run to the house for 

 the axe.' 



" Away she started, leaving the torch with me, and 

 she run like a wild Injun. I kneeled down so as to get 

 on a level with them, and puttin' the pine knot so it 

 would shine through, I peeped in at the varmint. Lord ! 

 he was a beauty. Crouched up in the fur corner of the 

 cabin, he stood with one foot on the wall, ready for a 

 jump. His glossy bay coat shone like a horse. His eyes 

 looked like two blue lights out on Florida Keys, and his 

 open mouth all the time dropped water down on his 

 whitish chest and on his feet. Once in a while he'd take 

 a look up at the hole in the roof and lay down his ears, 

 as if to jump at it, but it was a leetle too high for him, 

 and he couldn't get room enough to make the leap. Oh, 

 he was a purty critter. His feelers were as long as a ram- 

 rod, and when he looked up at the roof they lay so far back 

 that they reached the wrinkle that crossed his shoulders, 

 the only wrinkle on his body. I wanted to take a shy 

 at him, but it warn't no use, the cracks were so nar- 

 now I couldn't begin to sight over my rifle, and knowed 

 if I wounded the beast it would be all day with the Doc- 

 tor. ' Oh,' thinks I to myself, * ef I could get my pigs 

 and the Doctor out, I'd manage some way so as to take 

 him alive, and make a spec out of a real live painter. 

 'Twould be the first ever seed in Ameriky, I reckon.' 



" Just then the Doctor broke out afresh, half a screech 

 15 



