Peter hesitated. He ran his hand over the boy's white head lovingly.
“Who do you want to stay with you, Buddy?” he asked.
“I don't care, Uncle Peter,” said Buddy listlessly.
It was a full minute before Peter took his hand from Buddy's curls.
“I guess you'd better stay, Booge,” he said then. “You can sing what he likes better'n I can.”
“Well, if you think I can amuse him better'n you can, I'll stay, Peter,” said Booge reluctantly. “If he seems to hanker for you, I'll fire the shot-gun and you can come to him.”
So one of these two men went to his work, and the other seated himself on the floor of the cabin with his back against the wall and sang “Go Tell the Little Baby, the Baby, the Baby,” through his nose, and made faces, to amuse a freckle-faced little boy with a very light attack of the measles.