“That night it was awful cold agin, fer we come out in a northy cove about sundown an’ wuz too tired to go on. Harvey said he wouldn’t make a fire if he froze to death; so I got wood an’ cooked the squirrels, an’ was jest as brotherly as I could be. After supper he fell on the ground an’ went right to sleep. I covered him with balsam, ’cause I wasn’t goin’ to bring a friend o’ yorn back sick. In the mornin’ he woke up groanin’ an’ said his bones had hurt him so he hadn’t shet his eyes all night. I got him out an’ hurried him along all day. We had gone so fur around that bear, we had to camp out an extry night. I found a purty good campin’-place, but my feet was rubbed sore. Harvey was a-limpin’. He said it was a long trip to make on firecoals. I told him to keep in good heart, that he’d be with Mis’ Harvey next day, an’ she’d pet him up nice. But I couldn’t cheer him up noway, an’ he never said nothin’ all the time I was gittin’ wood an’ cookin’ supper. “After we’d et, him asayin’ nothin’, I pulled off my boots, an’ he says: ‘Lord, man, don’t you wear socks?’ I said not in the woods. Mutton taller is better’n socks in the woods any day. An’ I took out a little piece o’ taller I had in my pack an’ rubbed my feet with it. Then I turned ’em to the fire an’ it eased ’em up fine. I told him I was sorry I didn’t have enough taller to divide, but I only had enough left to rub my feet with in the mornin’ ’fore we started, an’ as he had socks an’ I didn’t, I needed the taller wuss’n he did. He took off his boots an’ wrapped his feet in his muffler. A baby ought ’a’ knowed better, but I didn’t say anything. I was wore out thinkin’ fer him at ever’ turn. He looked so beat though, layin’ there in my ol’ clo’s, I thinks I’ll sing a little fer him. The first day we’s a-climbin’ he kept pesterin’ me to sing, an’ me ha’f out o’ breath, luggin’ pack an’ gun. I b’lieve in suitin’ a song to the time, an’ settin’ there, with my feet a-warmin’, I got to thinkin’ how fine it was out in the wild woods like that, an’ only one night from home too; an’ ’most ’fore I knowed it I was singin’ ‘Free a Little Bird.’ It goes this a-way: “‘I’m as free a little bird as I can be; I’ll never build my nest on the ground; I’ll build my nest in a chinkapin-tree, Where the bad boys can never tear it down. Carry me home, sweet Kitty, carry me home! The stars they are bright, An’ as soft as candle-light; Sweet Kitty, carry me home!’