irn tbe Moo&s wftb tbe Bow 



" Why, Jarvis, you old fraud ! How 

 did you ever get away up here? " 



Through the hurly-burly of twenty years 

 I harked back. The fiddling and the 

 shuffling feet sounded amazingly real and 

 near. In an instant I was squeezing Jar- 

 vis's hand, and we were grimacing at each 

 other like two embarrassed boys. Mean- 

 time I heard him saying: 



" An' ye still air a-shootin' the bow 'n' 

 arry! Lawd, I 'r' glad ter see ye! " 



He was glad to see me ; the beam from 

 his countenance and the timbre in his voice 

 could not have been counterfeit. More- 

 over, Jarvis was not a man to feign delight. 

 Nature's frankness and sincerity were his ; 

 likewise her economy of special favors. 



And so I abode with him — the withered 

 and queer old bachelor — in his ramshackle 

 cabin beside the little river, through as 

 gay a period as ever rounded itself. By 

 day I had my will of the birds, and of 

 evenings Jarvis fiddled and spilled his dry 

 humor — it was all honey-sweet, a dripping 

 comb of primitive joy. 



Many a sojourn like that has been mine, 

 221 



