Then he looked back wonderingly upon his past life. “I can hardly believe that I was nothing but a mean, ragged, swearing little canal-driver only a few months ago. Over yonder are the woods where the charcoal-burners were, that I wanted to hire out to, after I had run away from the scow,—the idea of my hiring out to them! Now here I am, treated like one of Mr. Chatford’s own boys, and—with all that money, if it is money,” he added, his heart swelling again with misgivings. “Go, Lion! go for the cows,” he said; and he himself began to run, calling by the way, “Co’, boss! co’, boss!” as if bringing the cows would also bring Mr. Chatford home, with his report concerning the half-dollar.