"The deer you killed and your friend claimed?"

"Oh," said the Pike man, with sudden recollection, "I told Jack's
brother he might have it."

"Now, that was kinder handsome, considerin' you'd killed your friend
on account of it."

"There ain't nothin' mean about me," said the man from Pike County.

"I see there ain't," said Mr. Bickford dryly. "It reminds me of a
little incident in my own life. I'll tell you about it, if you
hain't any objection."

"Go ahead. It's your deal."

"You see, the summer I was eighteen, my cousin worked for dad hayin'
time. He was a little older'n me, and he had a powerful appetite,
Bill had. If it wasn't for that, he'd 'a' been a nice feller enough,
but at the table he always wanted more than his share of wittles.
Now, that ain't fair, no ways--think it is, stranger?"

"No! Go ahead with your story."

"One day we sat down to dinner. Marm had made some apple-dumplin'
that day, and 'twas good, you bet. Well, I see Bill a-eyin' the
dumplin' as he shoveled in the meat and pertaters, and I knowed he
meant to get more'n his share. Now, I'm fond of dumplin' as well as
Bill, and I didn't like it. Well, we was both helped and went to