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"It's mighty comical how that thing come there, and who writ it," said Silas, "and somehow I can't get my consent to tech it."

And he didn't touch it, either, until he had viewed it from all sides. First, he bent down, with his hands upon his knees, and twisted his body into all sorts of shapes in the vain effort to see the other side of the letter. Then he straightened up and made a wide circle around it; and finally, he climbed upon the wood-pile and looked at it from another direction. At last, he must have satisfied himself that it was a letter and nothing else, for he reached out his hand and took possession of it.

"It's mighty comical," repeated Silas, looking first at the letter, and then turning suspicious glances upon the surrounding woods, "and I can't for the life of me think who put it there. Now, who'll I get to read it for me? I can spell out printing with the best of them, but I can't say that I know much about them turkey-tracks they call writing."

As Silas was walking around the wood-pile toward his wagon, he turned the letter over in his hands, and then he saw that there was something inscribed upon the envelope. The characters were printed, too, and the man had little difficulty in deciphering the following: