They ain't
never slep' on balsam-boughs nor got a whiff o' a birchbark fire, nor
tramped a bed o' ferns at night. There's a cool, fresh smell for ye! I
tell ye there's a heap o' perfumes 'raound that ye can't buy at a
flower-store and cork up in a bottle. Well, I guess--Git up, Bess!" and
he flopped the reins once more along the ridges and hollows of the
mare's back while he encouraged her to renewed efforts with that
peculiar clucking sound heeded only by certain beasts of burden.
At the end of the tenth mile he stopped the mare suddenly.
"Hold on," he cried, excitedly, "there's that scraggy-tail. I missed him
when I come down. See! there he is on that green log. I was feared he'd
passed in his chips." I looked and saw a huge gray squirrel with a tail
like a rabbit. "That's him. Durn mean on his tail, warn't it? And one
paw gone, too. The dog catched him one day last year and left him tore
up that way. I found him limping along when I was a-sugaring here in the
spring and kinder fixed him up, and he's sorter on the lookout for me
when I come along.
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