* 



132 Dreaming Bob 



interest in him was growing, and I did not 

 feel like beating a retreat. Still, I could not 

 find anything to say, and I stood before him 

 feeling very much like a child before a 

 stranger. Meanwhile he continued probing 

 for turtles, but eying me at the same time, I 

 fancied. At last I hit upon one more ques- 

 tion, and rather timidly asked, " Do you live 

 near by ?" 



" Dog-town," he muttered. 



" As far as that ?" I asked, with some 

 surprise. 



"Just that far; and, if I must talk, in- 

 stead of tortlin', why, let's go to the hill- 

 foot and sit down." 



" All right." And, with this brief reply, 

 I followed the old man to where a tree- 

 trunk lay upon the ground, and there we sat 

 down. 



" Yes, young man," he commenced, " I 

 am a stranger in these parts, and yet I 

 ain't." 



" How's that ?" I asked. 



" I was born back in what's called ' Dog- 

 town' in '20, and moved off when not 

 more'n a baby, but not 'fore I had a notion 

 o' what the place was like. It's been rough- 



