“Did the same snake bite you?” asked Mary, quickly. “Yes,” replied Boone, still smiling. Joe opened his eyes, and after gazing a moment at Boone, asked him if he did not suffer much pain. “Fully as much as you do—but hear me through. I sprang back with some violence, I admit, but I did not run away. Lifting my cane, I returned with a determination to kill the snake. I stooped down very low to ascertain the precise position of its head, which was concealed by a large mullen leaf—I saw its eyes and its _bill_—” “What!” exclaimed Joe, rising up on his elbow with unwonted vigour, and his eyes riveted on the speaker. “Yes, its _bill_”, continued Boone. “And while my cane was brandished in the air and about descending on its devoted head, a low clucking arrested my arm, and approaching closer to it than before, and gazing steadfastly a moment, I lowered my cane to its usual position, and fell back laughing on the grass among the raspberries you had dropped.” “Mr. Boone—Mr. Boone!” cried Joe, springing up in a sitting attitude, and seizing the hand of the veteran, “for Heaven’s sake tell me what it was?” “It was an old SITTING HEN!” said Boone. “Upon your honour?” continued Joe, leaping upon his feet, and staring the aged hunter in the face, while his eyes gleamed with irrepressible hope and anxiety. “It was nothing else, upon my honour,” replied Boone, laughing in concert with the rest. “Huzza! huzza!! huzza!!!” shouted Joe, casting the bandages hither and thither, and dancing nimbly over the floor. “Fal-de-lal—tider-e-i— tider-e-o— tider-e-um!” he continued, in frenzied delight, and, observing Sneak at the door with an armful of plantain (who had returned in time to witness his abrupt recovery, and now continued to regard him with wonder and doubt—at times thinking he was delirious,) skipped up and held out both hands, as if inviting him to dance. “Dod rot it, your leg ain’t swelled a bit!” said Sneak. “Don’t use that bad word, Sneak,” said Mary. “I won’t—but dod—he’s had me running all over—” “Tider-e-i—tider-e-um!” continued Joe, still dancing, while the perspiration streamed over his face. “Have done with this nonsense, Joe!” said Glenn, “or else continue your ridiculous exercises on the grass in the yard. You may rejoice now, but this affair will be sport for others all your life. You will not relish it so much to-morrow.” “I’d rather all the world would laugh at me alive and kicking, than that one of you should mourn over my dead body,” replied Joe, leaping over Sneak, who was sitting in the door, and striding to the grass plot under the elm, where he continued his rejoicings. Sneak followed, and, sitting down on the bench in the shade, seemed to muse with unusual gravity at the strange spectacle presented by Joe.