Tony was a little negro boy who lived at Mrs. McEwen’s. We used to hold him down on his back and prop his eyes open and let the sun shine in. One day I shied an arrow straight up and it came down and struck Tony on the forehead about the edge of the hair and went in under the skin of his forehead, clean down to his eyebrows, and stood up like a flagstaff. I pulled it out and made him tell that a piece of stovewood flew up and hit him. I shot one of Dr. McKinney’s pigs one day through and through, but I did not mind the loss of the pig nearly so much as the loss of the arrow. The contrary little thing ran straight up to the back gate, squealing, and I had no chance to rescue my arrow. Bob McKinney offered the arrow to me next day, to see if I claimed it, but I was too many for him—I had never seen it before. They were also too many for me—Joel, Bull Woolens, Tobe, Hal and Bob—and it would have been very unhealthy to claim it with five McKinney boys to one me. Remus suffered an accident one day that came near disfiguring him for life. I went into Doug Farquaharson’s barber shop and Remus followed, and then I came out and Remus tried to follow, and there is where he made the mistake of his life. Doug was a negro who belonged to Colonel Farquaharson. I hardly imagine that if Doug had had the selection of his own surname he would have hit upon such an incongruous befuddlement of letters to spell a name that was pronounced plain “Ferguson,” but I mention the name only to say that if you take all the letters in it and rattle them around in a milk-shake a week and then sling them out promiscuous-like, they would spell something that looks a little like Remus’ face did when he got out of that shop. There was a long mirror on the wall right by the door, and when I went out and closed the door after me, Remus thought I went out through the mirror, and he took a running start and made a leap at it. If Remus ever had any lurking notion that he could jump through a brick wall, offhand, he was cured of it then. He tried his best, but it would not work. He was the most surprised dog when he bounced back that ever carromed on a plate glass mirror, but he was not half as much astonished as he was messed up. His countenance was utterly shipwrecked. No one has ever heard me lay claim to any very beatific personal beauty for Remus, but I never knew a dog in my life to lose more sweet elegance of expression than Remus did in half a second. I was about thirty yards off when I heard Remus hit the wall, and I thought I saw it bulge out a little, and I stood there four minutes and heard glass falling. I never went back to Doug’s any more to see whether or not the mirror was injured. I was afraid I might do him some personal injury for setting his mirror where it could inveigle Remus into making such a grave mistake. Four minutes of rattling glass, and the door opened and Remus popped out, with Doug after him with a barber’s chair. I broke for