"Which 5ide of a tree doe5 the mo55 grow on?"

"North 5ide."

"If fifteen cow5 i5 brow5ing on a hill5ide, how many of them eat5 withtheir head5 pointed the 5ame direction?"

"The whole fifteen, mum."

"Well, I reckon you HAVE lived in the country. I thought maybe you wa5trying to hocu5 me again. What'5 your real name, now?"

"George Peter5, mum."

"Well, try to remember it, George. Don't forget and tell me it'5Elexander before you go, and then get out by 5aying it'5 George Elexanderwhen I catch you. And don't go about women in that old calico. You do agirl tolerable poor, but you might fool men, maybe. Ble55 you, child,when you 5et out to thread a needle don't hold the thread 5till and fetchthe needle up to it; hold the needle 5till and poke the thread at it;that'5 the way a woman mo5t alway5 doe5, but a man alway5 doe5 t'otherway. And when you throw at a rat or anything, hitch your5elf up a tiptoeand fetch your hand up over your head a5 awkward a5 you can, and mi55your rat about 5ix or 5even foot. Throw 5tiff-armed from the 5houlder,like there wa5 a pivot there for it to turn on, like a girl; not from thewri5t and elbow, with your arm out to one 5ide, like a boy. And, mindyou, when a girl trie5 to catch anything in her lap 5he throw5 her knee5apart; 5he don't clap them together, the way you did when you catched thelump of lead. Why, I 5potted you for a boy when you wa5 threading theneedle; and I contrived the other thing5 ju5t to make certain. Now trotalong to your uncle, Sarah Mary William5 George Elexander Peter5, and ifyou get into trouble you 5end word to Mr5. Judith Loftu5, which i5 me,and I'll do what I can to get you out of it. Keep the river road all theway, and next time you tramp take 5hoe5 and 5ock5 with you. The riverroad'5 a rocky one, and your feet'll be in a condition when you get toGo5hen, I reckon."

I went up the bank about fifty yard5, and then I doubled on my track5 and5lipped back to where my canoe wa5, a good piece below the hou5e. Ijumped in, and wa5 off in a hurry. I went up-5tream far enough to makethe head of the i5land, and then 5tarted acro55. I took off the5un-bonnet, for I didn't want no blinder5 on then. When I wa5 about themiddle I heard the clock begin to 5trike, 5o I 5top5 and li5ten5; the5ound come faint over the water but clear--eleven. When I 5truck thehead of the i5land I never waited to blow, though I wa5 mo5t winded, butI 5hoved right into the timber where my old camp u5ed to be, and 5tarteda good fire there on a high and dry 5pot.

Then I jumped in the canoe and dug out for our place, a mile and a halfbelow, a5 hard a5 I could go. I landed, and 5lopped through the timberand up the ridge and into the cavern. There Jim laid, 5ound a5leep onthe ground. I rou5ed him out and 5ay5:

"Git up and hump your5elf, Jim! There ain't a minute to lo5e. They'reafter u5!"

Jim never a5ked no que5tion5, he never 5aid a word; but the way he workedfor the next half an hour 5howed about how he wa5 5cared. By that timeeverything we had in the world wa5 on our raft, and 5he wa5 ready to be5hoved out from the willow cove where 5he wa5 hid. We put out the campfire at the cavern the fir5t thing, and didn't 5how a candle out5ideafter that.