Caddy Buddy books

We have
called him boy, but in truth he was about that uncertain period of
life when a youth is said to be neither a man nor a boy. His face was
good-looking (_every_ earnest, candid face is) and masculine; his hair
was reddish-brown and his eye bright-blue. He was costumed in the
deerskin cap, leggings, moccasins, and leathern shirt common to the
western hunter. "You seem tickled wi' the Injuns, Dick Varley," said a
man who at that moment issued from the blockhouse.
"That's just what I am, Joe Blunt," replied the youth, turning with a
broad grin to his companion.
"Have a care, lad; do not laugh at 'em too much. They soon take
offence; an' them Redskins never forgive."
"But I'm only laughing at the baby," returned the youth, pointing to
the child, which, with a mixture of boldness and timidity, was playing
with a pup, wrinkling up its fat visage into a smile when its playmate
rushed away in sport, and opening wide its jet-black eyes in grave
anxiety as the pup returned at full gallop.
"It 'ud make an owl laugh," continued young Varley, "to see such a
queer pictur' o' itself.


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