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Doctor Thomas was not deceived: an in fifteen days
from that time Sally was out of bed, and could even in
the pleasant October noontide stroll down to the brook.
There seated on her favorite moss-clad rock, she would
muse for hours very happily, or, better still, spend the
morning in pleasant talk with Barry, who came over now
almost every day.

One day, the conversation led to a subject which somewhat
agitated the young girl:—their marriage. They had
settled all this with the usual dispatch of lovers, and now
Barry was anxious to go and get her father's and mother's
consent, and be comfortably fixed before Christmas. Sally
after much blushing and hesitation consented to this; and
Barry that very evening introduced the subject to the
hunter, while they were sitting alone after supper. He
shook his head.

“There's only one thing, Barry,” he said, “which puts
it entirely out. I've gone and made a vow that Sally
shan't be married till she can wear a silk bought with the
carcass of that cursed varmint I've been hunting. I'll
never enjoy a happy minute till I circumvent that Satan—
and before Sally can stand up with you I must bring
him down.”

Barry was far from being cast down by this strange
resolution of the hunter.

“Well then, father John,” he said, using the word

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father much as we now use uncle, as a term of familiarity
and affection, “well, so be it. Still I hope that Sally
will be able to marry me before Christmas.”

The hunter shook his head. Was he jealous of this
young man who came thus coolly to ask him for his
heart's treasure?

Barry did not press the matter, and he declared that
evening to Sally that there was no real obstacle in the
way of their nuptials. As to his duel with Doctor
Thomas he had wholly forgotten that, lately. It was
swallowed up with other trifles in Sally's illness. Sometimes
it crossed his mind and damped his joy, or threw a
cloud upon his hopeful thoughts; but he wisely resolved
to allow his adversary to take the first step, as he regarded
himself as the insulting party, and then he thought no
more about it.

So a week or two glided past, and every day the hunter
was on the track of the buck. That enchanted animal
had a still more deadly enemy in Barry!

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