LITMIR.BIZ

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is right," said Judge Adams. "I understand the principle. He has done it correctly."

      The Judge was proud of him. Mr. Pimpleberry and Mr. Funk, and several other citizens, were astonished; for they had no idea that Paul could do anything of the kind. Notwithstanding Paul had given the true distance, he received no thanks from any one; yet he didn't care for that; for he had shown Mr. Pimpleberry that he could do it, and that was glory enough.

      Paul loved fun as well as ever. Rare times he had at school. One windy day, a little boy, when he entered the school-room, left the door open. "Go back and shut the door," shouted Mr. Cipher, who was very irritable that morning. Another boy entered, and left it open. Mr. Cipher was angry, and spoke to the whole school: "Any one who comes in to-day and does not shut the door will get a flogging. Now remember!" Being very awkward in his manners, inefficient in government, and shallow-brained and vain, he commanded very little respect from the scholars.

      "Boys, there is a chance for us to have a jolly time with Cipher," said Paul at recess.

      "What is it?" Hans Middlekauf asked, ready for fun of any sort. The boys gathered round, for they knew that Paul was a capital hand in inventing games.

      "You remember what Cipher said about leaving the door open."

      "Well, what of it?" Hans Middlekauf asked.

      "Let every one of us show him that we can obey him. When he raps for us to go in, I want you all to form in line. I'll lead off, go in and shut the door; you follow next, Hans, and be sure and shut the door; you come next, Philip; then Michael, and so on—every one shutting the door. If you don't, remember that Cipher has promised to flog you."

      The boys saw through the joke, and laughed heartily. "Jingo, that is a good one, Paul. Cipher will be as mad as a March hare. I'll make the old door rattle," said Hans.

      Rap—rap—rap—rap! went the master's ruler upon the window.

      "Fall into line, boys," said Paul. They obeyed orders as if he were a general. "Now remember, every one of you, to shut the door just as soon as you are in. Do it quick, and take your seats. Don't laugh, but be as sober as deacons." There was giggling in the ranks. "Silence!" said Paul. The boys smoothed their faces. Paul opened the door, stepped in, and shut it in an instant—slam! Hans opened it—slam! it went, with a jar which made the windows rattle. Philip followed—slam! Michael next—bang! it went, jarring the house.

      "Let the door be open," said Cipher; but Michael was in his seat; and—bang! again—slam!—bang!—slam!—bang! it went.

      "Let it be open, I say!" he roared, but the boys outside did not hear him, and it kept going—slam!—slam!—slam!—bang!—bang!—bang!—till the fiftieth boy was in.

      "You started that, sir," Cipher said, addressing Paul, for he had discovered that Paul Parker loved fun, and was a leading spirit among the boys.

      "I obeyed your orders, sir," Paul replied ready to burst into a roar at the success of his experiment.

      "Did you not tell the boys to slam the door as hard as they could?"

      "No, sir. I told them to remember what you had said, and that, if they didn't shut the door, they would get a flogging."

      "That is just what he said, Master," said Hans Middlekauf, brimming over with fun. Cipher could not dispute it. He saw that they had literally obeyed his orders, and that he had been outwitted. He did not know what to do; and being weak and inefficient, did nothing.

      Paul loved hunting and fishing; on Saturday afternoons he made the woods ring with the crack of his grandfather's gun, bringing squirrels from the tallest trees, and taking quails upon the wing. He was quick to see, and swift to take aim. He was cool of nerve, and so steady of aim that he rarely missed. It was summer, and he wore no shoes. He walked so lightly that he scarcely rustled a leaf. The partridges did not see him till he was close upon them, and then, before they could rise from their cover flash!—bang!—and they went into his bag.

      One day as he was on his return from the woods, with the gun upon his shoulder, and the powder-horn at his side, he saw a gathering of people in the street. Men, women, and children were out—the women without bonnets. He wondered what was going on. Some women were wringing their hands; and all were greatly excited.

      "O dear, isn't it dreadful!" "What will become of us?" "The Lord have mercy upon us!"—were the expressions which he heard. Then they wrung their hands again, and moaned.

      "What is up?" he asked of Hans Middlekauf.

      "Haven't you heard?"

      "No, what is it?"

      "Why, there is a big black bull-dog, the biggest that ever was, that has run mad. He has bitten ever so many other dogs, and horses, sheep, and cattle. He is as big as a bear, and froths at the mouth. He is the savagest critter that ever was," said Hans in a breath.

      "Why don't somebody kill him?"

      "They are afraid of him," said Hans.

      "I should think they might kill him," Paul replied.

      "I reckon you would run as fast as anybody else, if he should show himself round here," said Hans.

      "There he is! Run! run! run for your lives!" was the sudden cry.

      Paul looked up the street, and saw a very large bull-dog coming upon the trot. Never was there such a scampering. People ran into the nearest houses, pellmell. One man jumped into his wagon, lashed his horse into a run, and went down the street, losing his hat in his flight, while Hans Middlekauf went up a tree.

      "Run, Paul! Run! he'll bite you!" cried Mr. Leatherby from the window of his shoe-shop. People looked out from the windows and repeated the cry, a half-dozen at once; but Paul took no notice of them. Those who were nearest him heard the click of his gun-lock. The dog came nearer, growling, and snarling, his mouth wide open, showing his teeth, his eyes glaring, and white froth dripping from his lips. Paul stood alone in the street. There was a sudden silence. It was a scene for a painter—a barefoot boy in patched clothes, with an old hat on his head, standing calmly before the brute whose bite was death in its most terrible form. One thought had taken possession of Paul's mind, that he ought to kill the dog.

      Nearer, nearer, came the dog; he was not a rod off. Paul had read that no animal can withstand the steady gaze of the human eye. He looked the dog steadily in the face. He held his breath. Not a nerve trembled. The dog stopped, looked at Paul a moment, broke into a louder growl, opened his jaws wider, his eyes glaring more wildly, and stepped slowly forward. Now or never, Paul thought, was his time. The breach of the gun touched his shoulder; his eye ran along the barrel—bang! the dog rolled over with a yelp and a howl, but was up again, growling and trying to get at Paul, who in an instant seized his gun by the barrel, and brought the breech down upon the dog's skull, giving him blow after blow.

      "Kill him! kill him!" shouted the people from the windows.

      "Give it to him! Mash his head!" cried Hans from the tree.

      The dog soon became a mangled and bloody mass of flesh and bones. The people came out from their houses.

      "That was well done for a boy," said Mr. Funk.

      "Or for a man either," said Mr. Chrome, who came up and patted Paul on his back.

      "I should have thrown my lapstone at him, if I could have got my window open," said Mr. Leatherby. Mr. Noggin, the cooper, who had taken refuge in Leatherby's shop, afterwards said that Leatherby was frightened half to death, and kept saying, "Just as like as not he will make a spring and dart right through the window!"

      "Nobly, bravely done, Paul," said Judge Adams. "Let me shake hands with you, my boy." He and Mrs. Adams and Azalia had seen it all from their parlor window.

      "O Paul, I was afraid he would bite and kill you, or that your gun would miss fire. I trembled all over just like a leaf," said Azalia, still pale and trembling. "O, I am so glad you have killed him!" She looked up into

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