"If—if you think I've done my duty to the strannger and the young lady," said the young man; and added, feebly pressing the father's hand,—"and to you, dad, to you, and mother, and the rest of 'em."
"You have, Tom," said the colonel, with somewhat a husky voice—"to the travelling strannger, to mother, father, and all—"
"And to Kentucky?" murmured the dying youth,
"To Kentucky," replied the father.
"Well, then, it's no great matter—You'll jist put Dick in my place: he's the true grit; thar'll be no mistake in Dick, for all he's only a young blubbering boy; and then it'll be jist all right, as before. And it's my notion, father—"
"Well, Tom, what is it?" demanded Bruce, as the young man paused as if from mingled exhaustion and hesitation.
"I don't mean no offence, father," said he,—"but it's my notion, if you'll never let a poor traveller go into the woods without some dependable body to take care of him—"
"You're right, Tom; and I an't mad at you for saying so; and I won't."
"And don't let the boys abuse Nathan,—for, I reckon he'll fight, if you let him take it in his own way. And,—and, father, don't mind Captain Ralph's stealing a hoss or two out of our pound!"
"He may steal the lot of 'em, the villain!" said Bruce, shaking his head to dislodge the tears that were starting in his eyes; "and he shall be none the wuss of it."