“Yes, suh,” said he; “dyah’s plenty of buds down here on de branch. I sees ’em eve’y evenin’ most when I comes down atter my cow. You go ’long and kill ’em and I’ll take keer of yo’ horse for yo’ and tell Mandy to hev some snack for yo’ ’bout twelve o’clock.” Just as he was leaving, he stopped, and leaning out of the wagon, said: “Marse Gus, don’t yo’ shoot any ole hyahs down dere. I takes my gun down wid me when I goes down atter my cow. Dem buds flies too fas’ for me, but I kin manage to shoot a ole hyah if I ketch one settin’ in de baid.” The promise was given and was kept by the hunters until they were about to stop for lunch. Just then a fine hare jumped up in front of Marse Gus, and gave him a fair shot. In his ardor he fired at it and knocked it over. At that moment old Robin was heard calling to them to come on up to the house as “snack was ready.” “There!” said Gus, as he picked up the hare, “now I’ve gone and killed this hare, and that old man will never forgive me.” “Take it and give it to him for his wife,” said his friend. “Oh, no!” he said, “you don’t know old Robin; he will never forgive me.” “Well, put it down in the bottom of your game-bag; he will never know the difference,” said his friend. And this was shamelessly done. They were greeted by the old man cheerfully, with “You must have got plenty of buds, I heard you shoot so much?” “Oh, yes, we had very good luck!” said the huntsmen. “You didn’t shoot any ole hyahs?” he inquired confidently. The silence aroused his suspicion, and, turning, he shot a keen glance at his master, which took in the well-filled game-bag. “What you got in dem game-pockets to make ’em look so big? You certain’y ain’ shoot as many buds as dat in dis time?” Gus, convicted, poked his hand into his bag and drew out the rabbit. “Here, Uncle Robin,” he said in some confusion, “this is the only one I shot. I want you to take it and give it to Mandy.” But the old man declined. “Nor, I don’ want it and Mandy don’ want it,” he said, half-scornfully; “you done shoot it and now yo’ better keep it.” He stalked on up the hill in silence. Suddenly, stopping, he turned back. “Well, well,” he said, “times certain’y is changed! Marse Gus, yo’ pa wouldn’t ’a’ told me a lie for a mule, let ’lone a’ ole hyah.” * * * * *