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"
Oh
,
Misther
Stump
,
luk
at
Tara
!
See
!
thare
's
somethin'
tied
about
his
neck
.
It
was
n't
there
when
he
lift
.
What
do
yez
think
it
is
?
"
The
hunter
's
eyes
turned
immediately
upon
the
hound
.
Sure
enough
there
was
something
around
the
animal
's
neck
:
a
piece
of
buckskin
thong
.
But
there
was
something
besides
--
a
tiny
packet
attached
to
the
thong
,
and
hanging
underneath
the
throat
!
Zeb
drawing
his
knife
,
glided
towards
the
dog
.
The
creature
recoiled
in
fear
.
A
little
coaxing
convinced
him
that
there
was
no
hostile
intent
;
and
he
came
up
again
.
The
thong
was
severed
,
the
packet
laid
open
;
it
contained
a
card
!
There
was
a
name
upon
the
card
,
and
writing
--
writing
in
what
appeared
to
be
red
ink
;
but
it
was
blood
!
The
rudest
backwoodsman
knows
how
to
read
.
Even
Zeb
Stump
was
no
exception
;
and
he
soon
deciphered
the
characters
traced
upon
the
bit
of
pasteboard
.
As
he
finished
,
a
cry
rose
from
his
lips
,
in
strange
contrast
with
the
groans
he
had
been
just
uttering
.
It
was
a
shout
of
gladness
,
of
joy
!
"
Thank
the
Almighty
for
this
!
"
he
added
;
"
and
thank
my
ole
Katinuck
schoolmaster
for
puttin
'
me
clar
through
my
Webster
's
spellin
'
-
book
.
He
lives
,
Pheelum
!
he
lives
!
Look
at
this
.
Oh
,
you
ca
n't
read
.
No
matter
He
lives
!
he
lives
!
"
