ise, and strategy. A good force were the pursuers; the "olive plants" of the Joneses grew very naturally in regular gradations, like the steps of a flight of stairs. Tom, Eliza, Charley, Bob, Sarah, Bill, and Bub, the four-year-old, were all active with hands, legs, and lungs, while the mother stood in the doorway, surveying the scene, with baby in her arms.
"Fix up the fence where the deer jumped in!" cried Tom to Charley; and the latter hastened to repair the breach, for the brush had been broken down at that point.
From corner to corner and side to side bounded the deer, slipping through the fingers of one and another of the youngsters; but they gave him no rest.
"Stop him, 'Lize! Hold him, Bob! Head him off. Say! Get out of the way, Bub! There! why didn't you catch him, Charley? Mother, can't you put down baby, and help us? He'll get away! There! he's going over the fence! No, he isn't!" Amid such vociferations the children rushed on, pell-mell, till out of breath. Luckily, the brush