“Say, Neal!” exclaimed Cyrus, his eyes keenly bright as he looked at the toy standards, “wouldn’t this sort of thing delight our friend Doc? By the way, that reminds me, I have a package for you from him, and a message from Herb Heal too. Herb wants to know ‘when those gamy Britishers are coming out to hunt moose again?’ And Doc has sent you a little bundle of beaver-clippings. They are from an ash-tree two feet in circumference, felled by that beaver colony which we came across near the _brûlée_ where you shot your bear and covered yourself with glory. Doc asked you to put the wood in sight on Christmas Night, and to think of the Maine woods.”