THE WEASELS OF HOLM-WOOD. 27

“Good morning, Mr. Bantam,”’ said he.
“Good morning, sir,’”’ said Bantam, shaking in every feather.

“ T want you to do me a service, Bantam,’ continued old
Marten; ‘but you must not say one word of what I am going

to tell you.”’
Bantam promised this, as indeed he would have any thing else.

«You must go to Old Weasel of Holm-wood,”’ whispered
Marten, laying his forepaws on Bantam’s breast to hold him near
him, ‘‘and find his daughter. Tell her that young Ferret is a
scapegrace and a good-for-nothing fellow, and that Judge Fox
has sent him to prison. Then tell her that I am very rich, and
that my son Longtail is making a handsome fortune by his school.
This is a delicate matter, Bantam: if you manage cleverly, I will
be your friend through life; if you betray me, mark this.’ And
the old man clapped his paw on the cutlass he usually wore by his

side.

Bantam, glad to get out of his clutches on any terms, promised
the strictest compliance, and flew rather than ran back to his
farmyard as soon as he was released. There the first person he

saw was his wife, who had returned, and was wondering what had