The next morning, it being the day appointed for the “logging bee,” the Elwoods were again up betimes, to be prepared for the reception of the expected visitants. On going out into the yard, while yet the coming sun was only beginning to flush the eastern horizon, Mr. Elwood perceived, early as it was, a man, whom he presumed, from the handspike and axe on his shoulder, to be one of the company, entering the opening and leisurely approaching, with an occasional glance backward along the road from the settlements below. Not recognizing the man as an acquaintance, Elwood noted his appearance closely as he was coming up. He was a rather young-looking man, of a short, compactly built figure, with quick motions, and that peculiar springy step which distinguishes men of active temperament and hopeful, buoyant spirits; while the fox-like cut of his features, the lively gray eyes that beamed from them, and the evidently quick coming and going thoughts that seemed to flash from his thin-moving nostrils and play on his curling lips, served to indicate rapid perceptions, shrewdness, and a kind and perhaps fun-loving disposition. “Hillo, captain,--or captain of the house, as I suppose you must be,” he sang out cheerily, as with slackening step he approached Elwood; “did you ever hear spoken of, a certain rough-and-ready talking sort of a chap they call Jonas Codman?” “I have heard of a Mr. Codman, and was told that he would probably be here to-day,” doubtfully replied Elwood. “Well, I am he, such as he is, pushed forward as a sort of advanced guard,--no, herald must be the book-word,--to tell you that you are taken. Did you mistrust it?” “No, not exactly.” “You _are_, nevertheless. But I’ll tell you a story, which, if you can see the moral, may give you some hints to show you how to turn the affair to your advantage without suffering the least inconvenience yourself; and here it is: