Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-06-18

bruin fer ten mile. an come up t him in his den long tords night. Sile giv him th' slugs, and tn bar tackled him, but were wounded too bad t git away with tn boy, but chawed him up tol'ble han'some fore he gin up the ghost Sile jest curled down longside tn bar an slep' till mornin', an were a draggin bruin an' tn calf th't were inside O him hum wen mo an Sam Ward kim along onter him a rcstin' in tn swamp. Elf th't wa'nt grit somebody tell me what it wcres
 sI could set here an tell ye yarns all night bout Sile Reeves" continued the Old Settler, sadly, ''an' any one on 'cm d be better n any story book ye ever read but haint got the heart t do it. T. think of man th't started out like him turnin' of his toes up huntin' coons! I'm durned # it don't make me feel like buttin my or brains out agin that stove! If he hedn't he'd so many fus' class chances O pegGin' out t'h't d. ha' ben comfort and consolation t his friends, 'twouldt set on me so durn hard, but ez it is I'm cut up wus'n hog i'll killin' time"
 The Old Settler fell into a mournful re- verie. Suddenly he jumped up and shouted
 'I'm thumpin' son of a roebuck ef it hain't my fault th't or Sile went back on his self am went Q coonin'!"
 The Old Settler had never been seen in such state of mind before He had suddenly re- called some incident that seemed to fill him with remorse. He strode to and fro across the floor, swung his cane until it buzzed, and at every step resigned himself to regions en- tirely remote from the happy hunting ground where all good hunters are supposed to go eventually The condolence of the boys and the soothing influence of two glasses of hot rum and molasses finally brought him back to his equilibrium. r
 "Now, mind ye, boys" he said, ''th' may be sech thing ez tn Sile didn't git killed tn way we heerd he did an, mind ye, eff he did, I c'nsider th't he were crazier th'n loon. But if it is true, an no matter of he were crazy, 'twere my fault th't he went a coonin', fer split his chance O gettin' chawed up in q way th't d ha done him credit till tn Judg- ment day comes rollin' round. But stepped in an saved his life. An now y see what comes of it Twere forty year ago up in Sugar Swamp Deestric,. We wus out lookin' fer stray deer or bar ez might be hangin' round tn woods. SiIe had bar trap couple O miles fm tn cabin, an one mornin' he went out t see eff tn was any sign O fur bout tn diggins. wa'nt quite ready to go wen he started, but follered Tong mebbe half an hour afterwards. Tn trap were set on tn edge of q little swamp. When got thar tn wa'nt no trap, no bar, nor no Sile t be seen. Jest then heerd shot over in tn swamp, am struck q bee line fur tn spot Fore got a quarter of mile in tn swamp I heerd terrible snappin' an snarlin' an growlin' an tearin' bout in the brush right on ahead O me- l crawled through, an comin' suddint onter an openin' see sight th't made me prick up my ears an no mis- take. The snow were tore up fer ten rod | around, an tn were quite sprinklin' O blood an hair distnbyut'd bout tn patch. On one side O tn open laid Sile, an standin' over 'em, with one paw on Sile's right arm, a holdin' it down so ez he couldn't use his hunt in knife, were big bar with his jaws wide open, ready with his other paw t rip tn life outen Sile. Layin' on Sile's side, with the trap ol one forepaw, were another bar, but he were dead n he'd bled enough t fill a tub. l knowed by that th't Sile had ben with him an he'd slid his knife inter tn bar's witals. T'other bar, though, he'd got Sile fouler th'n tn whale had Joner, an his life wa'n't wuth gun wad. I couldn't help but think, ez I see tht oP black cuss standin over Sile, th't it were most sin agin natur' t interfere with an animal th't d tuck tn chances O gettin' tlf' best O Sile Reeves an h'd got it. But O course pulled up an druv ball inter tn tough b'ars heart, an Sile Reeves were saved fm sartin' death. It'd ben big thing fer sile of he'd a-ben ripped | open by tht bar, arter tn fight he'd made | agin' two on 'ern. An l split that chance fer him, an here he goes an gifts killed a-coonin'. It's all my fault, an it'll ha'nt mt to my dyin' dayi t.a
 "Say, sonny" exclaimed the Old Settler seized with new thought 'When y gs back to Sugar Swamp, kinder inquire rounc bout this matter. Fin out eff tn wa'nt { bar track somewhat roun' whar or Sile go killed Send me back word t wa'n't a coo1 huntin' an y'll take Q heap O trouble off my | mind" 5-..- .o--. .t. The Old Settler rose to go home He stop ped at the door, and raising his cane abov' his head, said with emphasis: s.
 "Consarn it, sonny! Sem me back wort th't Sile gin up the ghost any other way but huntin' coons, an I'll die a rejoicin! I don' keer wat other way it were-not even if i
 were ben' kicked to death by a tan'ry mule b'gosht 'lmightyr' s...
 Then the cane came down and made tn
 bar room ring, and the Old Settler wen
 home to supper,-Ed. Mott in The Chicag | Herald.