Chapter 3
Naturally there were a good many things I wanted to know about 'theol' man o' the woods,' but Uncle Eb would take no part in any furtherconversation.
So I had to lie down beside him again and think out the problem as bestI could. My mind was never more acutely conscious and it gathered manystrange impressions, wandering in the kingdom of Fear, as I looked upat the tree-tops. Uncle Eb had built a furious fire and the warmth ofit made me sleepy at last. Both he and old Fred had been snoring a longtime when I ceased to hear them. Uncle Eb woke me at daylight, in themorning, and said we must be off to find the trail. He left me by thefire a little while and went looking on all sides and came back nowiser. We were both thirsty and started off on rough footing, withoutstopping to eat. We climbed and crawled for hours, it seemed to me, andeverywhere the fallen tree trunks were heaped in our way. Uncle Eb satdown on one of them awhile to rest.
'Like the bones o' the dead,' said he, as he took a chew of tobacco andpicked at the rotten skeleton of a fallen tree. We were both pretty wellout of breath and of hope also, if I remember rightly, when we restedagain under the low hanging boughs of a basswood for a bite of luncheon.Uncle Eb opened the little box of honey and spread some of it on ourbread and butter. In a moment I noticed that half a dozen bees had litin the open box.
'Lord Harry! here's honey bees,' said he, as he covered the box so as tokeep them in, and tumbled everything else into the basket. 'Make hastenow, Willie, and follow me with all yer might,' he added.
In a minute he let out one of the bees, and started running in thedirection it flew. It went but a few feet and then rose into thetree-top.
'He's goin' t' git up into the open air,' said Uncle Eb. 'But I've gothis bearins' an' I guess he knows the way all right.'
We took the direction indicated for a few minutes and then Uncle Eb letout another prisoner. The bee flew off a little way and then rose in aslanting course to the tree-tops. He showed us, however, that we werelooking the right way.
'Them little fellers hev got a good compass,' said Uncle Eb, as wefollowed the line of the bees. 'It p'ints home ev'ry time, an' nevermakes a mistake.'
We went further this time before releasing another. He showed us thatwe had borne out of our course a little and as we turned to followthere were half a dozen bees flying around the box, as if begging foradmission.
'Here they are back agin,' said Uncle Eb, 'an' they've told a lot o'their cronies 'bout the man an' the boy with honey.'
At length one of them flew over our heads and back in the direction wehad come from.
'Ah, ha,' said Uncle Eb, 'it's a bee tree an' we've passed it, but I'mgoin' t' keep lettin' 'em in an' out. Never heard uv a swarm o' beesgoin' fur away an' so we mus' be near the clearin'.'
In a little while we let one go that took a road of its own. The othershad gone back over our heads; this one bore off to the right in front ofus, and we followed. I was riding in the basket and was first to see thelight of the open through the tree-tops. But I didn't know what it meantuntil I heard the hearty 'hurrah' of Uncle Eb.
We had come to smooth footing in a grove of maples and the clean trunksof the trees stood up as straight as a granite column. Presently we cameout upon wide fields of corn and clover, and as we looked back upon thegrove it had a rounded front and I think of it now as the vestibule ofthe great forest.
'It's a reg'lar big tomb,' said Uncle Eb, looking back over his shoulderinto the gloomy cavern of the woods.
We could see a log house in the clearing, and we made for it as fast asour legs would carry us. We had a mighty thirst and when we came to alittle brook in the meadow we laid down and drank and drank until wewere fairly grunting with fullness. Then we filled our teapot and wenton. Men were reaping with their cradles in a field of grain and, as weneared the log house, a woman came out in the dooryard and, lifting ashell to her lips, blew a blast that rushed over the clearing and rangin the woods beyond it A loud halloo came back from the men.
A small dog rushed out at Fred, barking, and, I suppose, with some lackof respect, for the old dog laid hold of him in a violent temper andsent him away yelping. We must have presented an evil aspect, for ourclothes were torn and we were both limping with fatigue. The woman hada kindly face and, after looking at us a moment, came and stooped beforeme and held my small face in her hands turning it so she could look intomy eyes.
'You poor little critter,' said she, 'where you goin'?'
Uncle Eb told her something about my father and mother being dead andour going west Then she hugged and kissed me and made me very miserable,I remember, wetting my face with her tears, that were quite beyond mycomprehension.
'Jethro,' said she, as the men came into the yard, 'I want ye t' lookat this boy. Did ye ever see such a cunnin' little critter? Jes' lookat them bright eyes!' and then she held me to her breast and nearlysmothered me and began to hum a bit of an old song.
'Yer full o' mother love,' said her husband, as he sat down on the grassa moment 'Lost her only baby, an' the good Lord has sent no other. Iswan, he has got putty eyes. Jes' as blue as a May flower. Ain't yehungry? Come right in, both o' ye, an' set down t' the table with us.'
They made room for us and we sat down between the bare elbows of thehired men. I remember my eyes came only to the top of the table. So thegood woman brought the family Bible and sitting on that firm foundationI ate my dinner of salt pork and potatoes and milk gravy, a diet asgrateful as it was familiar to my taste.
'Orphan, eh?' said the man of the house, looking down at me.
'Orphan,' Uncle Eb answered, nodding his head.
'God-fearin' folks?'
'Best in the world,' said Uncle Eb.
Want t' bind 'im out?' the man asked.
'Couldn't spare 'im,' said Uncle Eb, decisively.
'Where ye goin'?'
Uncle Eb hesitated, groping for an answer, I suppose, that would do noviolence to our mutual understanding.
'Goin' t' heaven,' I ventured to say presently--an answer that gave riseto conflicting emotions at the table.
'That's right,' said Uncle Eb, turning to me and patting my head. 'We'reon the road t' heaven, I hope, an' ye'll see it someday, sartin sure, ifye keep in the straight road and be a good boy.'
After dinner the good woman took off my clothes and put me in bed whileshe mended them. I went asleep then and did not awake for a long time.When I got up at last she brought a big basin of water and washed mewith such motherly tenderness in voice and manner that I have neverforgotten it. Uncle Eb lay sleeping on the lounge and when she hadfinished dressing me, Fred and I went out to play in the garden. Itwas supper time in a little while and then, again, the woman winded theshell and the men came up from the field. We sat down to eat with them,as we had done at noon, and Uncle Eb consented to spend the night aftersome urging. He helped them with the milking, and as I stood beside himshot a jet of the warm white flood into my mouth, that tickled it soI ran away laughing. The milking done, I sat on Uncle Eb's knee in thedoor-yard with all the rest of that household, hearing many tales ofthe wilderness, and of robbery and murder on Paradise Road. I got theimpression that it was a country of unexampled wickedness and ferocityin men and animals. One man told about the ghost of Burnt Bridge; howthe bridge had burnt one afternoon and how a certain traveller in thedark of the night driving down the hill above it, fell to his death atthe brink of the culvert.
'An' every night since then,' said the man, very positively, ye can hearhim drivin' down thet hill--jes' as plain as ye can hear me talkin'--therattle o' the wheels an' all. It stops sudden an' then ye can hear 'imhit the rocks way down there at the bottom O' the gulley an' groan an'groan. An' folks say it's a curse on the town for leavin' thet holeopen.'
'What's a ghost, Uncle Eb?' I whispered.
'Somethin' like a swift,' he answered, 'but not so powerful. We heard apanther las' night,' he added, turning to our host. 'Hollered like sinwhen he see the fire.'
'Scairt!' said the man o' the house gaping.
'That's what ailed him. I'velived twenty year on Paradise Road an' it was all woods when I putup the cabin. Seen deer on the doorstep an' bears in the garden, an'panthers in the fields. But I tell ye there's no critter so terrible asa man. All the animals know 'im--how he roars, an' spits fire an' smokean' lead so it goes through a body er bites off a leg, mebbe. Guessthey'd made friends with me but them I didn't kill went away smartingwith holes in 'em. An' I guess they told all their people 'bout me--theterrible critter that walked on its hind legs an' lied a white face an'drew up an' spit 'is teeth into their vitals 'cross a ten-acre lot. An'putty soon they concluded they didn't want t' hev no truck with me. Theythought thin clearin' was the valley o' death an' they got verycareful. But the deer they kep' peekin' in at me. Sumthin' funny 'bout adeer--they're so cu'rus. Seem's though they loved the look o' me an' thetaste o' the tame grass. Mebbe God meant em t' serve in the yoke someway an' be the friend o' man. They're the outcasts o' the forest--theprey o' the other animals an' men like 'em only when they're dead.An' they're the purtiest critter alive an' the spryest an' the mos'graceful.'
'Men are the mos' terrible of all critters, an' the meanest,' said UncleEb. 'They're the only critters that kill fer fun.'
'Bedtime,' said our host, rising presently. 'Got t' be up early 'n themorning.'
We climbed a ladder to the top floor of the cabin with the hired men, ofwhom there were two. The good lady of the house had made a bed for uson the floor and I remember Fred came up the ladder too, and lay downbeside us. Uncle Eb was up with the men in the morning and at breakfasttime my hostess came and woke me with kisses and helped me to dress.When we were about going she brought a little wagon out of the cellarthat had been a playing of her dead boy, and said I could have it. Thiswonderful wagon was just the thing for the journey we were making. WhenI held the little tongue in my hand I was half-way to heaven already. Ithad four stout wheels and a beautiful red box. Her brother had sent itall the way from New York and it had stood so long in the cellar it wasnow much in need of repair. Uncle Eb took it to the tool shop in thestable and put it in shipshape order and made a little pair of thills togo in place of the tongue. Then he made a big flat collar and a back-padout of the leather in old boot-legs, and rigged a pair of tugs outof two pieces of rope. Old Fred was quite cast down when he stood inharness between the shafts.
He had waited patiently to have his collar fitted; he had grinnedand panted and wagged his tail with no suspicion of the serious andhumiliating career he was entering upon. Now he stood with a sober faceand his aspect was full of meditation.
'You fightin' hound!' said Uncle Eb, 'I hope this'll improve yercharacter.'
Fred tried to sit down when Uncle Eb tied a leading rope to his collar.When he heard the wheels rattle and felt the pull of the wagon he lookedback at it and growled a little and started to run. Uncle Eb shouted'whoa', and held him back, and then the dog got down on his belly andtrembled until we patted his head and gave him a kind word. He seemedto understand presently and came along with a steady stride. Our hostessmet us at the gate and the look of her face when she bade us goodbye andtucked some cookies into my pocket, has always lingered in my memory andput in me a mighty respect for all women. The sound of her voice, thetears, the waving of her handkerchief, as we went away, are among thethings that have made me what I am.
We stowed our packages in the wagon box and I walked a few miles andthen got into the empty basket. Fred tipped his load over once or twice,but got a steady gait in the way of industry after a while and a morecheerful look. We had our dinner by the roadside on the bank of a brook,an hour or so after midday, and came to a little village about sundown.As we were nearing it there was some excitement among the dogs andone of them tackled Fred. He went into battle very promptly, the wagonjumping and rattling until it turned bottom up. Re-enforced by UncleEb's cane he soon saw the heels of his aggressor and stood growlingsavagely. He was like the goal in a puzzle maze all wound and tangledin his harness and it took some time to get his face before him and hisfeet free.
At a small grocery where groups of men, just out of the fields, weresitting, their arms bare to the elbows, we bought more bread and butter.In paying for it Uncle Eb took a package out of his trouser pocket toget his change. It was tied in a red handkerchief and I remember itlooked to be about the size of his fist. He was putting it back when itfell from his hand, heavily, and I could hear the chink of coin as itstruck. One of the men, who sat near, picked it up and gave it back tohim. As I remember well, his kindness had an evil flavour, for he winkedat his companions, who nudged each other as they smiled knowingly. UncleEb was a bit cross, when I climbed into the basket, and walked along insilence so rapidly it worried the dog to keep pace. The leading rope wastied to the stock of the rifle and Fred's walking gait was too slow forthe comfort of his neck.
'You shifless cuss! I'll put a kink in your neck fer you if ye don'twalk up,' said Uncle Eb, as he looked back at the dog, in a temperwholly unworthy of him.
We had crossed a deep valley and were climbing a long hill in the duskytwilight.
'Willie,' said Uncle Eb, 'your eyes are better'n mine--look back and seeif anyone's comin'.'
'Can't see anyone,' I answered.
'Look 'way back in the road as fur as ye can see.
I did so, but I could see no one. He slackened his pace a little afterthat and before we had passed the hill it was getting dark. The road raninto woods and a river cut through them a little way from the clearing.
'Supper time, Uncle Eb,' I suggested, as we came to the bridge.
'Supper time, Uncle Eb,' he answered, turning down to the shore.
I got out of the basket then and followed him in the brush. Fred foundit hard travelling here and shortly we took off his harness and left thewagon, transferring its load to the basket, while we pushed on to finda camping place. Back in the thick timber a long way from the road, webuilt a fire and had our supper. It was a dry nook in the pines--'tightas a house,' Uncle Eb said--and carpeted with the fragrant needles. Whenwe lay on our backs in the firelight I remember the weary, droning voiceof Uncle Eb had an impressive accompaniment of whispers. While he toldstories I had a glowing cinder on the end of a stick and was weavingfiery skeins in the gloom.
He had been telling me of a panther he had met in the woods, one day,and how the creature ran away at the sight of him.
'Why's a panther 'fraid o' folks?' I enquired.
'Wall, ye see, they used t' be friendly, years 'n years ago--folks 'npanthers--but they want eggszac'ly cal'lated t' git along t'gether someway. An' ol' she panther gin 'em one uv her cubs, a great while ago, jest' make frien's. The cub he grew big 'n used t' play 'n be very gentle.They wuz a boy he tuk to, an' both on 'em got very friendly. The boy 'nthe panther went off one day 'n the woods--guess 'twas more 'n a hundredyear ago--an' was lost. Walked all over 'n fin'ly got t' goin' round 'nround 'n a big circle 'til they was both on 'em tired out. Come nightthey lay down es hungry es tew bears. The boy he was kind o' 'fraid 'othe dark, so he got up clus t' the panther 'n lay 'tween his paws. Theboy he thought the panther smelt funny an' the panther he didn't jes'like the smell o' the boy. An' the boy he hed the legache 'n kickedthe panther 'n the belly, so 't he kin' o' gagged 'n spit an' they wantneither on 'em reel comf'able. The sof paws o' the panther was jes' likepincushions. He'd great hooks in 'em sharper 'n the p'int uv a needle.An' when he was goin' t' sleep he'd run 'em out jes' like an ol'cat--kind o' playfull--'n purr 'n pull. All t' once the boy feltsumthin' like a lot o' needles prickin' his back. Made him jump 'nholler like Sam Hill. The panther he spit sassy 'n riz up 'n smelt o'the ground. Didn't neither on 'em know what was the matter. Bime byethey lay down ag'in. 'Twant only a little while 'fore the boy feltsomethin' prickin' uv him. He hollered 'n kicked ag'in. The panther hegrowled 'n spit 'n dumb a tree 'n sot on a limb 'n peeked over at thetqueer little critter. Couldn't neither on 'em understan' it. The boyc'u'd see the eyes o' the panther 'n the dark. Shone like tew live coalseggszac'ly. The panther 'd never sot
'n a tree when he was hungry, 'nsee a boy below him. Sumthin' tol' him t' jump. Tail went swish in theleaves like thet. His whiskers quivered, his tongue come out. C'u'dthink o' nuthin' but his big empty belly. The boy was scairt. He up withhis gun quick es a flash. Aimed at his eyes 'n let 'er flicker. Blew alot o' smoke 'n bird shot 'n paper waddin' right up in t' his face. Thepanther he lost his whiskers 'n one eye 'n got his hide fill' o' shot'n fell off the tree like a ripe apple 'n run fer his life. Thought he'dnever see nuthin' c'u'd growl 'n spits powerful es thet boy. Never c'u'dbear the sight uv a man after thet. Allwus made him gag 'n spit t' thinko' the man critter. Went off tew his own folks 'n tol' o' the boy 'atspit fire 'n smoke 'n growled so't almos' tore his ears off An' now,whenever they hear a gun go off they allwus thank it's the man crittergrowlin'. An' they gag 'n spit 'n look es if it made 'em sick t'the stomach. An' the man folks they didn't hev no good 'pimon o' thepanthers after thet. Haint never been frien's any more. Fact is a man,he can be any kind uv a beast, but a panther he can't be nuthin' butjest a panther.'
Then, too, as we lay there in the firelight, Uncle Eb told theremarkable story of the gingerbread hear. He told it slowly, as if hisinvention were severely taxed.
'Once they wuz a boy got lost. Was goin' cross lots t' play with 'notherboy 'n lied t' go through a strip o' woods. Went off the trail t' chasea butterfly 'n got lost. Hed his kite 'n' cross-gun 'n' he wandered allover 'til he was tired 'n hungry. Then he lay down t' cry on a bed o'moss. Putty quick they was a big black bear come along.
'"What's the matter?" said the bear.
'"Hungry," says the boy.
'"Tell ye what I'll dew," says the bear. "If ye'll scratch my back ferme I'll let ye cut a piece o' my tail off t' eat."
'Bear's tail, ye know, hes a lot o' meat on it--heam tell it was gran'good fare. So the boy he scratched the bear's back an' the bear hegrinned an' made his paw go patitty-pat on the ground--it did feel sosplendid. Then the boy tuk his jack-knife 'n begun t' cut off the bear'stail. The bear he flew mad 'n growled 'n growled so the boy he stopped'n didn't dast cut no more.
'"Hurts awful," says the bear. "Couldn't never stan' it. Tell ye whatI'll dew. Ye scratched my back an' now I'll scratch your'n."
'Gee whiz!' said I.
'Yessir, that's what the bear said,' Uncle Eb went on. 'The boy he up'n run like a nailer. The bear he laughed hearty 'n scratched the groundlike Sam Hill, 'n flung the dirt higher'n his head.
'"Look here," says he, as the boy stopped, "I jes' swallered a piece omutton. Run yer hand int' my throat an I'll let ye hev it."
'The bear he opened his mouth an' showed his big teeth.'
'Whew!' I whistled.
'Thet's eggszac'ly what he done,' said Uncle Eb. 'He showed 'em plain.The boy was scairter'n a weasel. The bear he jumped up 'an down on hishind legs 'n laughed 'n' hollered 'n' shook himself.
'"Only jes' foolin," says he, when he see the boy was goin' t' runag'in. "What ye 'fraid uv?"
'"Can't bear t' stay here," says the boy, "'less ye'll keep yer mouthshet."
'An the bear he shet his mouth 'n pinted to the big pocket 'n his furcoat 'n winked 'n motioned t' the boy.
'The bear he reely did hev a pocket on the side uv his big fur coat. Theboy slid his hand in up t' the elbow. Wha' d'ye s'pose he found?'
'Durmo,' said I.
'Sumthin' t' eat,' he continued. 'Boy liked it best uv all things.'
I guessed everything I could think of, from cookies to beefsteak, andgave up.
'Gingerbread,' said he, soberly, at length.
'Thought ye said bears couldn't talk,' I objected.
'Wall, the boy 'd fell asleep an' he'd only dreamed o' the bear,' saidUncle Eb. 'Ye see, bears can talk when boys are dreamin' uv 'em. Comedaylight, the boy got up 'n ketched a crow. Broke his wing with thecross-gun. Then he tied the kite swing on t' the crow's leg, an' thecrow flopped along 'n the boy followed him 'n bime bye they come out acornfield, where the crow'd been used t' comin' fer his dinner.'
'What 'come o' the boy?' said I.
'Went home,' said he, gaping, as he lay on his back and looked up at thetree-tops. 'An' he allwus said a bear was good comp'ny if he'd only keephis mouth shet--jes' like some folks I've hearn uv.'
'An' what 'come o' the crow?'
'Went t' the ol' crow doctor 'n got his wing fixed,' he said, drowsily.And in a moment I heard him snoring.
We had been asleep a long time when the barking of Fred woke us. I couldjust see Uncle Eb in the dim light of the fire, kneeling beside me, therifle in his hand.
'I'll fill ye full o' lead if ye come any nearer,' he shouted.