"I don't care."
"I'd be 'shamed," the boy answered, his own voice trembling with suppressed emotion.
Since a talk he had had with his father the day before, he felt a large and expanding sense of responsibility for his sister. Just now an-idea occurred to him—why shouldn't he, in his own person, supply the deficiencies of the great man they had come to see?
"I'll be your Uncle Silas," he remarked. "I'm a man now, an' I've killed a bear."
"Where is he?"
"Dead on the floor there."
She covered her face with the blankets.
"I'm going to have a pair o' moccasins an' a rifle, an' I'll carry you on my b-back." He had stammered on the last word after the manner of his uncle.
Just then they heard a singular creaking outside the door, and before either had time to speak it was flung open. They were both sitting up in bed as their Uncle Silas entered.
"I tnum!" said he, cheerfully.