"Shut up now, shut up, missy," he said, soothingly. "We did shoot that feller, but thar warn't nowhere to keep him, but deer has bin kep'. Soft now, an' I'll tell ye of Seth Winthrop, who has a park an' is a rich man. Las' year, when you couldn't go scarce five mile without seein' tracks o' blood in the snow where some one had been slaughterin', a moose was chased near Winthrop's place. He was so dead beat that he jus' stood an' trembled, an' one o' Winthrop's men put a halter on him, an' led him to the barnyard an' give him fodder an' drink, an' that livin' young moose is in Winthrop's park to-day, an' he weighs four hundred pound."
'Tilda Jane was still sobbing, and Joe nudged his father. "Tell her 'bout the bear, pop."
"Now here's somethin' that'll make you laugh," said Lucas, kindly. "It's about a bad bear that went an' got drunk. I was on a fishin' trip, an' I had a jug o' black-strap with me. Know what that is, leetle gal?"
"No-o-o," gasped 'Tilda Jane, who, rather ashamed of her emotion, was trying to sober herself.
"Wal—it's the State o' Maine name for rum an' molasses mixed, an' you take it with you in case you git sick. There was some other men with me, an' they'd gone off in a boat on the lake. I had a gun, but 'pon my word I didn't think o' usin' it, 'count of gratitude to that b'ar for givin' me such a treat—just as good as a circus. Wal, I must tell how it happened. I didn't feel well that day—had a kind o' pain, an' I was lyin' on the bank in the sun, foolin' an' wishin' I was all right. By an' by, thinks I, I'll go to the camp an' hev a drink o' black-strap. I was mos' thar, when I met a wicked thief b'ar comin' out. Powers around, he was as tipsy as a tinker. He'd bin at my black-strap, an' I wish you could 'a' seen him. He didn't know where he was at, or where he wanted to be at, an' he was jolly, an' friendly, an' see-sawed roun' me, an' rolled an' swaggered till I tho't I'd die laughin'. My pain went like las' year's snow, an' I walked after that b'ar till he was out o' sight. Just like a drunken man he was, makin' for home, an' in the midst of all his foolery havin' an idea of where he'd oughter go. I'd 'a' given a good deal to see Mrs. B'ar's face when he arrove. An' didn't those other fellers give it to me for not shootin' him! I said I couldn't take a mean advantage of his sitooation."
'Tilda Jane's face was composed now, and with a faint smile she reverted to the subject of the deer. "Don't you feel bad when you're killin' them, an' they looks at you with their big eyes?"
"Look here, leetle gal, don't you talk no more 'bout them, or you'll hev me as mush-hearted as you be," said Lucas, getting up and going to the window. "At present I ain't got no feelin' about deer excep' that what's in the woods is ours. You jus' stand up an' try your feet. It's goin' to snow, an' I'd like to git you out o' here. Did you ever try to teeter along on snow-shoes?"
"No, sir," she said, getting up and walking across the room.
Lucas was anxiously surveying the sky. "'Pears like it was goin' to snow any minute. The las' thaw took the heft of it off the ground—you'd 'a' never got in this fur if it hadn't—an' we're bound to hev another big fall. It ain't fur to the road, an' I guess you an' Zebedee better start. Lemme see you walk, sissy."