"Lost a sausage!" I repeated, staring.
"Oh, it's all right, you know," he hastened to assure me; "I found it again, an' it wasn't hurt a bit."
"Imp," I said sternly, "come here, I want to talk to you."
"Just a minute, Uncle Dick, while I get my parcels. I want you to help me to carry them, please, and with the words he dived under the hedge, to emerge, a moment later, with his arms full of unwieldy packages, which he laid at my feet in a row.
"Why, what on earth have you got there, Imp?"
"This," he said, pointing to the first, "is jam an' ham an' a piece of bread; this next one is cakes an' sardines, an' this one is bread an' butter that I saved from my tea."
"Quite a collection!" I nodded. "Suppose you tell me what you mean to do with them."
"Well, they're for my outlaw. You remember the other day I wanted to play at being outlaws? Well, two days ago, as I was tracking a base caitiff through the woods with my trusty bow and arrow, I found a real outlaw in the old boat-house."
"Ah! and what is he like?" I inquired.
"Oh, just like an outlaw--only funny, you know, an' most awfull' hungry. Are all outlaws always so very hungry, Uncle Dick?"'