with him was a piece of new rope for his canoe. After a moment's reflection the great man climbed the tree and threw a noose over the panther's neck while his faithful dog was barking below. Then the cute Uncle Silas made his rope fast to a limb and shook the tree so that when the panther jumped for the ground he hung himself.

To most of those who heard the narrative it seemed to be a rather creditable exploit, showing, as it did, a shrewdness and ready courage of no mean order on the part of Uncle Silas. Murmurs of glad approval were hushed, however, by the voice of the red-headed boy.

"Pooh! that's nothing," said he, with contempt. "My Uncle Mose chased a panther once an' overtook him and ketched him by the tail an' fetched his head agin a tree, quick as a flash, an' knocked his brains out."

His words ran glibly and showed an off-hand mastery of panthers quite unequalled. Here was an uncle of marked superiority and promise.

There was a moment of silence in the crowd.

"If ye don't believe it," said the red-headed boy, "I can show ye a vest my mother made out o' the skin."

That was conclusive. Sue blushed for shame and looked into the face of Socky. Her mouth drooped a little and her under lip trembled with anxiety. Doubt, thoughtfulness, and confusion were on the face of her brother. He scraped the sand with his foot. He felt that he had sometimes stretched the truth a little, but this—this went beyond his capacity for invention.

"Don't believe it," he whispered, with half a sneer as he glanced down at Sue.

Lizzie Cornell began to titter. All eyes were fixed upon the unhappy pair as if to say, "How about your Uncle Silas now?" The populace, deserting the standard of the old king, gathered in front of the red-headed boy and began to inquire into the merits of Uncle Mose.

Socky and Sue hesitated. Curiosity struggled with resentment. Slowly and thoughtfully they walked away. For a moment neither spoke. Soon a cheering thought came into the mind of Sue.

"Maybe Uncle Silas has ketched a panther by the tail, too," said she, hopefully. Socky, his hands in his pockets, looked down with a dazed expression.

"I'm going to ask father," said he, thoughtfully.

It was now late in the afternoon. They went home and sat in silence on the veranda, watching for their father. The old Frenchwoman who kept house for him tried to coax them in, but they would make no words with her. Long they sat there looking wistfully down the river-bank.

Presently Sue hauled out of her pocket a tiny rag doll which she carried for casual use. It came handy in moments of loneliness and despair outside the house. She toyed with its garments, humming in a motherly fashion. It was nearly dark when they saw their father staggering homeward according to his habit. They knew not yet the meaning of that wavering walk.

"There he comes!" said Socky, as they both ran to meet him. "He can't carry us to-night. He's awful tired."

They thought him "tired." They kissed him and took his hands in theirs, and led him into the house. Stern and silent he sat down beside them at the supper-table. The children were also silent and sober-faced from intuitive sympathy. They could not yet introduce the topic which weighed upon them.

Socky looked at his father. For the first time he noted that his clothes were shabby; he knew that a few days before his father had lost his watch. The boy stole away from the table, and went to his little trunk and brought the sacred thing which his teacher had given him Christmas Day—a cheap watch that told time with a noisy and inspiring tick. He laid it down by his father's plate.

"There," said he, "I'm going to let you wear my watch."

It was one of those deep thrusts which only the hand of innocence can administer. Richard Gordon took the watch in his hand and sat a moment looking down. The boy manfully resumed his chair.

"It don't look very well for you to be going around without a watch," he remarked, taking up his