The child roused with a start and stared into the strange bearded face that was bent toward him.

"It's yo' Uncle Bob," continued Yancy in a wheedling tone.

"Are you the little nevvy what will help him to hook up that old blind mule of hisn?
Here, give us the spo'tin' rifle to tote!" "Please, sir, where is Aunt Alsidia ?" asked the child.
Yancy balanced the rifle on his great palm and his eyes assumed a speculative cast.
"I wonder what's to hinder us from loading this old gun, and firing this old gun, and hearing this old gun go-bang! Eh ?" The child's blue eyes grew wide.
"Like the guns off in the woods ?" he asked, in a breathless whisper.
"Like the guns a body hears off in the woods, only louder--heaps louder," said Yancy.

"You fetch out his plunder, Mr.John," he added in a lower tone.
"Do it now, please," the child cried, slipping off the bench.
"I was expectin' fo' to hear you name me Uncle Bob, sonny; my little nevvies get almost anything they want out of me when they call me that-a-ways." "Please, Uncle Bob, make it go bang!" "You come along, then," and Mr.Yancy moved off in the direction of his mule, the child following.

"Powder's what we want fo' to make this old spo'tin' rifle talk up, and I reckon we'll find some in a horn flask in the bottom of my cart." His expectations in this particular were realized, and he loaded the rifle with a small blank charge.