"Hurry up that ere doctor afore I die," he exclaims; "hurry him up I say. Lord, that ere pain in my shoulder; now its in my long ribs; now its in my short ribs; I ken feel it clare down to my heel cord and toe cord. Take away that ere infernal brandy," he cried, raising his voice to its highest pitch, "ye don't spose I want fur to drink pison, do ye, when I'm most dead already?" "But it will strengthen you, Daddy," said the attendant soothingly. "It won't nuther. It will set me all on fire and I'll mortify afore the doctor gits here." When Dr. Goodrich at length made his appearance, there was then enacted a scene, if possible, still more uproarious. Poor Daddy winced and groaned at every touch, and oftimes, commanded his physician to desist in his examinations of the injured parts. "Don't! Hold on there doctor, you'll yank me all to bits. There; stop that yanking; for the lord's sake, doctor, hold on there." "I am holding on, Daddy," said the doctor very firmly, as he mended the dislocated shoulder. The necessary surgical operation performed, and an opiate administrated, with the assurance that no serious results were to be apprehended, and Daddy's mind and body were soon at rest. Meantime, in happy ignorance of Daddy's accident, Little Wolf and Fanny plodded homeward; the former deeply absorbed in thought, the latter blithe and airy, singing with the birds, and tripping and slipping in the dissolving snow. The exuberance of Fanny's delight, however, began perceptibly to wane as they were about repassing the spot, where, a few hours before, they had paused to mourn and lament. Again she loitered by her companion's side, again she sighed, "Poor Fleet Foot;" but not again did Little Wolf yield to her feelings. Her tearless eyes looked straight forward, and she hurried by the frightful gorge, where lay the remains of her high-mettled and much loved pet. On the brow of the hill she paused in surprise, for again she saw Wycoff with his face turned towards the brewery. On the present occasion he was mounted upon his favorite horse Black Hawk, and, having overtaken Hank Glutter, the two men were engaged in a conversation which we will here transcribe. "How are you, Wycoff? Bound for the brewery this fine day?" "Why no, Mr. Glutter, I have about made up my mind that you have got your share of my hard earnings this year, I guess I'll pay up my debts and keep clear of the brewery, and see how I'll come out about this time next spring." "Why, I thought you were doing well enough, Wycoff," said Hank, uneasily. "I'm sure your bill at the brewery is not large, considering." "O, I don't complain of the charges, Mr. Glutter. As Miss DeWolf says, money is not the only thing you part with at a drinking saloon." "O, you're being nosed about by Miss DeWolf, are you," said Hank contemptuously. "I had as leif be nosed by a fine lady, as by a saloon keeper," said Wycoff, drawing himself up in his saddle.