HEAP GOOD MAN. 



2 3 



TOCK DARLING — RETURNING FROM A BEAR HUNT. 



word he pronounced to be "moose," 

 and started towards the door. Now 

 we had only bacon in camp, for as we 

 were hunting moose I had abstained 

 from shooting at any other game, but 

 the remains of a careful training bothered 

 me, and I exclaimed against entering a 

 house and foraging in that way. To this 

 Sebat replied, "This John Seymour 

 house ; he heap good man," and moved 

 toward the canoe. I solaced my con- 

 science by laying fifty cents on the bar- 

 rel cover, and in silence we paddled to 

 camp. We had a good supper of moose 

 meat fried with onions, fried potatoes, 

 bread and tea, topped off with apricot 

 jam. Now I am very fond of apricot 

 jam. We had but three pots, and it was 

 painful to watch one whole pot disap- 

 pear before Sebat's vigorous attack, but 

 I found consolation in my pipe, and soon 

 the pots and pans were washed — some- 

 thing I always leave the other man to 

 do, if possible — the fire replenished, 

 and myself ensconced on a pile of 

 boughs with my back to a tree. For a 

 while we smoked in silence, but I was 

 in a conversational mood, and deter- 

 mined upon an effort to make Sebat 

 talk. Turning upon my elbow, I asked 

 why John Seymour was u heap good 

 man." My success surprised me, for in 



his broken English my guide told this 

 story : 



John Seymour was an Indian trapper, 

 and had the true India contempt for 

 game law. If he wanted game, he shot 

 it without regard to season. Old Archie 

 McLeod was a game warden, and had 

 the true game warden's faults. Too 

 lazy to consistently enforce the law, he 

 would for months overlook, almost con- 

 nive at offences. Occasionally, prompted 

 by fear of losing his position, or by a 

 desire to show his authority, he would 

 pounce upon some unlucky and friend- 

 less offender. Against John Seymour 

 he seemed to have an especial grudge, 

 and seven times arrested and twice 

 fined him. Doubtless the Indian was 

 guilty, but he only killed for food, and 

 unable to understand why others should 

 be spared, he mused and brooded over 

 his wrongs. 



Now McLeod's daughter had married 

 a man named Jones, and had seven 

 small children. Jones who was boss 

 a lumber camp working some forty men, 

 contracted a heavy cold, negle< 

 ordinary precautions, and within three- 

 days was raving in a delirium of fever. 

 Doctors are scarce in the depth of the 

 Maine woods. The men were kind in 

 their rough way, but one night the 



