370 MEN I HAVE FISHED WITH. 



" 'How's this, Jim?' said the captain, for grandfather's 

 name was Jim, same as mine; 'surely you don't want to 

 desert like the rest, do ye?' 



" 'Cap'n,' said my grandfather, 'they didn't desert. 



There's and / naming two of his chums; 



'they've gone, and I want to know where. Put me on 

 that post on the relief that goes on past midnight, and if 

 there's anything to find out I'll find it/ 



"When he went to his post after midnight he picked 

 his flint, and put fresh powder in the pan of his musket, 

 and made up his mind that no matter about the rules 

 against making an alarm, he would shoot the first thing 

 that came near him. A 'coon whickered close by, but 

 he could not see to shoot it. A hog feeding on beech 

 nuts grunted satisfaction occasionally, and soon came in 

 sight. When it came within twenty feet grandfather 

 fired at it, and an Indian rose and yelled. When the 

 corporal of the guard came there was a dead Indian and a 

 hog skin. That told the story. Searching parties were 

 sent out, and found a hole in which the bodies of ten 

 soldiers lay. Its bottom could only be reached by jump- 

 ing into a tree and descending. Six Indians were en- 

 camped in the hole, but they never got out alive. It's no 

 wonder that the place has a bad name." 



"Jim," said Tobi, "I read that story in my school his- 

 tory when I was a boy." 



"That proves it," said Jim; "but no matter where you 

 read it, my grandfather was the man who killed the In- 

 dian in the hog skin that had murdered all the sentinels 

 on that post by the corner of the woods." 



Tobi Teller rose to a point of order and remarked: 

 "As there is a peep of daylight coming through the shut- 

 ters, I now move that we adjourn." 



A feeling of sadness comes over me when I recall the 



