Evening journal., 1905-03-30
CHAPTER I.

sklrmiSher and rear guard-that was
the size Of it. They were the survivors
Of a ruined home in the north of Yer
mont and were travelling far into the
valley Of the st. Lawrence, but with
no particular destination.
Midsummer had passed them in their
Journey. Their clothes were covered
with dust, their faces browning in the
hot sun. 1t was very small boy that
sat inside the basket and clung to the
rim, his tow head shaking as the old
man walked He saw wonderful things
day after day looking down at the
green fields or peering into the gloomy
reaches Of the wood, and he talked
about them.
"Uncle Eb, is that where the swifts
are?" he would ask often, and the old
man would answer: NO; they amt
real sassy this time O. year They lay
Pound in the deep dingles every day"
Then the small voice would sing idly
pr prattle with an imaginary being
hat had a habit Of peeking over the
edge Of the basket or would shout a
greeting to some bird or butterfly and
ask finally:
Tired, Uncle Eb"
Sometimes the old gentleman would
say mot very" and keep on, looking
thoughtfully at the ground. Then,
again, he would stop and mop his bald
head with q big red handkerchief and
say, little tremor of irritation in
his voice. Tired. Who wouldn't be
tired with a big elephant like you on
his back all day? I'd be 'shamed o
myself t. set there an let an old man
carry me from Dan to Beersheba. Git
out now an shake yer legs"
l was the small boy. and remember
it was always a great relief to get out
of the basket and, having run ahead,
to lie in the grass among the wild flow
ers and jump up at him as he came
along.
Uncle Eb had been working for my
father five years before l was born. lie
was not strong man and had never
been able to carry the wide swath of
the other help in the fields, but we all
loved him for his kindness and his
knack of story telling. He was a bach
elor who came over the mountain from
Pleasant Valley. a little bundle of
clothes on his shoulder, and bringing a
name that enriched the nomenclature
of our neighborhood. 1t was Eben Hol.
den.
q. He had a cheerful temper and an i'm
agination that was a very wilderness Of
oddities. Bears and panthers growled
and were very terrible in that strange
country. lie had invented an animal
more treacherous than any in the
woods, and lie called it a swift. Sum
thin like a panther" he described the
look of it-a fearsone creature that lay
IN the edge of the woods at sundown
and made noise like a woman crying
to lure the unwary. 1t would light ones
eye with fear TO hear Uncle Eb lift
his voice in the cry of the swift Many
a time in the twilight when the bay of
a hound or some far cry came family
through the wooded hills l have seen
him lift his hand and bid us bark. And
when we had listened a moment our
eyes wide with wonder, he would turn
and say in a low, half whispered tone,
"'S a swift" I suppose we needed
more the fear of God. but the young
children Of the pioneer needed also the
fear Of the woods or they would have
strayed to their death in them.
A big bass viol, taller than himself,
had long been the solace of his Sun
days After he N9d shayed-a ceremo-
ny so solemn that it seemed a rite of
his religion-that sacred viol was un-
covered. He carried it sometimes to the
back piazza and sometimes to the barn,
where the horses shook and trembled
at the roaring thunder of the strings.
When he began playing we children
had to get we'll out Of the way and keep
our distance. remember now the look
of him then-his thin face, his soft
black eyes, his long nose. the suit OF
broadcloth. the stock and standing col
lar and. above all. the solemnity in his
manner when that big devil Of a thing
was leaning on his breast.
AS to his playing. l have never heard
a more fearful sound in any time Of
peace or one less creditable to a Chris
, tian. Week days he was addicted to
the milder sin Of the flute, and after
chores, il there were no one to talk with
him, he would sit long and pour his
soul into that magic bar of lockwood.
Uncle Eb had another great accom-
plishment He was what they call in
the north country "a natural cooner."
After nightfall. when the corn was
4 ripening, he spoke in a whisper and had
/ his ear cooked for coons But he loved
all kinds Of good fun.
. So this man had n boy in his heart
! and a boy IN his basket that evening
we left the old house. My father and
mother and older brother had been
drowned in the lake, where they had
gone for dag OF pleasure i had then
small understanding Of my loss, but
have learned since that the farm was
not worth the mortgage and that
everything had to be sold. Uncle Eb
and Ia little lad, a very little lad Of
six-were all that was left Of what had
been in that home Some were for send
tng me TO the county house, but they
decided finally to turn me over TO a
dissolute unclea with some allowance
for my keep. Therein Uncle Eb was te
be reckoned with He had set his heart
on keeping me, but he was a farm hand
without any home or visible property
and not therefore, in the mind of the
q authorities, a proper guardian. He had
D. A..