Mr. Ribsam was leaning on the gate-post, as was a favorite custom of
his, and the tobacco smoke ascended in clouds and rings, as though he
was a locomotive tugging hard at a train, with the wheels continually
slipping.
He looked at the boys without stirring or speaking, as they passed out
the gate and gently closed it, so as not to jar the old gentleman
leaning upon it.
When they had gone a rod or so, Mr. Ribsam called out:
"Nicholas!"
"Yes, sir!" answered the son, wheeling instantly.
The father took the long stem of his pipe from his mouth, emitted a
blast of vapor, and then shut his eyes and flung his head backward with
a quick flirt, which meant that his boy should come to him.
Nick obeyed with his usual promptness, and paused immediately in front
of his parent, while Sam Harper stopped short and looked backward at the
two, with the purpose of waiting until the interview ended.
The old gentleman meant his words for both, and he therefore used the
English tongue as best he could, and spoke loud:
"Nicholas, bears ish shtrong amimals as nefer vos: they can squeeze in
der ribs of a ox of dey tried, I dinks, so looks out dot de bears don't
not squeeze mit you."
"I will take good care, you may depend."
"His claws am sharp and he has big jaws; look outs for dem, Nicholas!"
"You may be sure I will."
"And, Nicholas, ven you goes for to hunt bears _you must helps one
anoder; you hears_?"
This was the all-important sentence the father had prepared himself to
utter.
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