There was the sound of voices behind him and the squirrels vanished. Archie B. stood up and saw an old man and some children gathering nuts.
“It's the Bishop an' the little mill-mites. I'll bet they've brought their dinner.”
This was the one thing Archie B. needed to make his day in the woods complete.
“Hello,” he shouted, coming up to them.
“Why, it's Archie B.,” said Shiloh, delighted.
“Why, it is,” said her grandfather. “What you doin', Archie B.?”
“Studyin' squirrels right now. What you all doin'?”
“I've tuck the kids out of the mill an' I'm givin' 'em their fus' day in the woods. Shiloh, there, has been mighty sick and is weak yet, so we're goin' slow. Mighty glad to run upon you, Archie B. Can't you sho' Shiloh the squirrels? She's never seed one yet, have you, pet?”
“No,” said Shiloh thoughtfully. “Is they like them little jorees that say Wake-up, pet! Wake-up, pet? Oh, do sho' me the squirrel! Mattox, ain't this jes' fine, bein' out of the mill?”
Archie B.'s keen glance took in the well-filled lunch basket. At once he became brilliantly entertaining. In a few minutes he had Shiloh enraptured at the wood-lore he told her,—even Bull Run and Seven Days, Atlanta and Appomattox were listening in amazement, so interesting becomes nature's story when it finds a reader.