RECREATION. 



I still made no comment or reply, 

 but I did stop whistling. 



"May be you don't believe it?" con- 

 tinued the Major. 



"Believe what, Major?" 



"Believe what! Why, d n it, 



that I shot the curlews I've been tell- 

 ing you about." 



"Major, I didn't say I doubt your 

 story. In fact, I haven't said a word 

 about it. What are you getting an- 

 gry about?" Here the Major got al- 

 most fighting mad. 



"D n it, sir ! Actions sometimes 



speak louder than words. You act as 

 though you don't believe me." 



I still kept silence ; and then again 

 began to whistle softly. 



"D n it, Allen, I can prove that 



my story is true. J. E. Ingram, Bill 

 Randolph and Joe Whitner were there 

 and saw me kill the birds." 



I was unable to restrain my feelings 

 any longer and my pent-up laughter 



broke forth. It was growing dark 

 and I could not see the expression on 

 the Major's face, but I could hear him 

 fuming and breathing heavily. As 

 soon as I could choke off my mirth 

 the Major, in a sneering tone, made 

 his final remark : 



"You think you are d d smart, 



don't you?" 



The remaining 2 miles we drove in 

 silence. 



When we reached home the Major 

 said to me while the boy took the 

 horse and buggy : 



"Ned, don't say anything to any- 

 body about that story. You are the 

 only man I ever told it to. I was 

 afraid people wouldn't believe it, and 

 that is why I have never told it be- 

 fore. Good night, old man." 



"Good night, Major." 



I did not promise I would not tell 

 the story. 



CRABBING. 



AMATEUR PHOTO BY W. J. DICK. 



