Now,
we want you to take this as a present from us. I know it ain't much,
but, arter all, a young otter is a thing a feller can't ketch every
day. Will you take it?"
"Certainly," answered Frank, as he took the little animal in his arms.
"I have long wished for an otter, and I thank--"
"Hold on there," interrupted Lee. "Keep your thanks for them as needs
them, or likes to hear 'em. We Hillers have got feelings as well as
any body. It's our way of bringin' up that makes us so bad. Now,
good-by; and, if you ever want any thing, jest call on Lee Powell."
And he and his companions walked rapidly toward their boat, and soon
disappeared.
CHAPTER XII.
A Deer-Hunt on the Water.
The next morning, after breakfast, Frank and his cousin, accompanied
by the dogs, got into the skiff, and pulled up the creek, on a
"prospecting expedition." They had started for the swamp, which lay
about two miles and a half from the cottage, to see what the prospects
were for a good muskrat-hunt in the spring. This swamp covered,
perhaps, five hundred acres, and near its center was a small lake,
which emptied into Glen's Creek.
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