“Nothing at all, but I'm just wanting Don for a—for something.”
“Well, well, just go to the old barn and cry at him.”
Hughie found Don in the old barn, busy “rigging up” his plow, for the harvest was in and the fall plowing was soon to begin.
“Man, Don!” cried Hughie, in a subdued voice, “it's the greatest thing you ever heard!”
“What is it now, Hughie? You look fairly lifted. Have you seen a ghost?”
“A ghost? No, something better than that, I can tell you.”
Hughie drew near and lowered his voice, while Don worked on indifferently.
“It's a bear, Don.”
Don dropped his plow. His indifference vanished. The Camerons were great hunters, and many a bear had they, with their famous black dogs, brought home in their day, but not for the past year or two; and never had Don bagged anything bigger than a fox or a coon.
“Where did you see him?”