“Who’s scared into fits now, I should like to know?” retorted Joe.

“I wish I had my gun,” said Sneak.

“Hang me, if I’m afraid of that little thing,” said Joe.  Still the hounds ran round, yelping, but never venturing within thirty feet of the animal.

“I’ll be whipped if I understand all this!” said Joe, in utter astonishment, looking at Sneak, and then at the hounds.

“Why don’t you run?” cried Sneak, as the animal continued to advance.

“I believe you’re making fun of me,” said Joe; “that little thing can’t hurt anybody.  Its a pretty little pet, and I’ve a notion to catch it.”

“What are you talking about?  You know you’re afraid of it,” said Sneak, tauntingly.

“I’ll show you,” said Joe, springing upon the animal.  The polecat (for such it was) gave its assailant a taste of its quality in a twinkling.  Joe grasped his nose with both hands and wheeled away with all possible expedition, while the animal pursued its course towards the river.

“My goodness, I’ve got it all over my coat!” exclaimed Joe, rolling on the snow in agony.

“Didn’t I say I’d pay you for spilling the cold water on me?” cried Sneak, in a convulsion of laughter.

“Why didn’t you tell me, you rascal?” cried Joe, flushed in the face, and forgetting the Indians in his increasing anger.

“Oh, I’ll laugh myself sore—­ha! ha! ha!” continued Sneak, sitting down on the snow, and laughing obstreperously.

“You long, lopsided scoundrel, you.  My Irish blood is up now,” said Joe, rushing towards Sneak with a resolution to fight.

“I’ll be whipt if you tech me with them hands,” said Sneak, running away.

“Oh, what shall I do?” cried Joe, sinking down, his rage suddenly subdued by his sickening condition.

“If you’ll say all’s square betwixt us, I’ll tell you what to do.  If you don’t do something right quick, they won’t let you sleep in the house for a month.”

“Well.  Now tell me quick!”

“Pull off your coat before it soaks through.”

“I didn’t think of that,” said Joe, obeying with alacrity, and shivering in the cold air.

“Now twist a stick into it, so you can carry it up to the house, without touching it with your hands, that is, if none of it got on ’em,” continued Sneak.

“There ain’t a bit anywhere else but on the shoulder of my coat,” said Joe, acting according to Sneak’s instructions.  Filling their buckets, they at length started towards the house, Joe holding a bucket in one hand, and a long pole, on which dangled his coat, in the other.  When they entered, the company involuntarily started; and Glenn, losing all control over his temper, hurled a book at his man’s head, and commanded him not to venture in his presence again until he could by some means dispense with his horrid odor.

“Foller me,” said Sneak, leading the way to the stable, and taking with him one of the spades he had brought in from the burial; “now,” he continued, when they were with the horses, “dig a hole at this end of the stall, and bury your coat.  If you hadn’t took it in the house, like a dunce, they’d never ’ave known any thing about it.”