“Well,” says Tommy, “if yo’ won’t sleep, yo’ kin work,” and he gave Jack the whip. “This ole giraft aint had no breakfast, an’ I guess he’ll want some time th’ tank’s full.” A half hour later Tommy returned with a big feed of oats in a bag. When he reached the west end of the bridge he stopped, put down the bag, and made the woods ring with his boyish laughter. The old mule was lying peacefully in the endless path, while little Jack, curled up like a bird dog on the platform, was sound asleep. Tommy took off his coat, fixed it under Jack’s head for a pillow, and then cautiously wakened the mule. He dared not use the lash now, but, following close behind the mule, prodded him persistently with the whip-handle. Round and round they went, the marker crawled down, the water up, and little Jack snored like a saw-mill. By twelve o’clock the big tank was full of water, and the old mule was having his breakfast and dinner all at one feed. * * * * * “I give yo’ fair warnin’, Mr. Jack Connor,” said Tommy, swimming on his back, “if yo’ don’ skin off yer duds an’ git in here I’ll come up there an’ trow yo’ off d’ bridge, duds an’ all.” “I don’ feel like ut, Tommy,” said Jack, “t’ mar’ I’ll go in, maby.” Tommy and the dog took a few dives from the bridge, when Jack, who had been standing guard, shouted to his companion to “hustle on his duds” for Mary was coming down the track with the dinner. Tommy, properly attired, was waiting at the narrow foot-bridge that lay across the ditch from the grade to the little shanty. He took the basket and the jug of buttermilk, and Mary, young as she was, felt and appreciated these little attentions from the young gallant. She spread a newspaper on the little pine table and put down the plates. “Watcher doin’ uv three plates, Mary?” asked Jack. “Mamma said I could hev dinner wif you’uns,” said Mary, shyly. “’S matter uv yo’, Jack Connor? Think girls never gits hungry?” demanded Tommy, tumbling over his companion and rolling him in the high grass. There was no fried chicken, no green peas, no radishes, nor corn, nor bread and butter; there was nothing--not even chicken bones--when the banquet was over, for the dog had eaten the bones. Mary picked up the dishes and the empty jug, and when Tommy had climbed up in the old sugar tree to see if the young birds were out, she swept the little shanty and gathered a bouquet of wild flowers and placed them in a tomato can on the little table.