But what she saw in the
sinking light was a fine old head in a night-cap, staring at them
from the tent. Bobaday and his aunt were so rapid in retiring that
their guardian was unable to make them explain their conduct as fully
as she desired. They slept so long in the morning that the camp was
broken up when Grandma Padgett called them out to breakfast.
[Illustration: THE VIRGINIAN AND HIS CHILDREN.]
Zene wanted the tent of aunt Corinne to stretch over the wagon-hoops.
He had already hitched the horses, restoring the gray and the white to
their former condition of yoke-fellows, and these two rubbed noses
affectionately and had almost as much to whisper to each other as had
Robert and Corinne over their breakfast.
The darkened wagon was nowhere to be seen. Corinne climbed a tall
stump as an observatory, and Bobaday went a piece into the bushes,
only to find that all that end of the camp was gone. The colony of
Virginians was also partly under way.
Aunt Corinne felt a certain sadness steal over her. She had brought
herself to admit the pig-headed man, with limitations. He might have
a pig's head on him, but it wasn't fast. He did it to frighten
children.
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