The Baltimore County union. [volume] (Towsontown, Md.) 1865-1909, 1909-06-19
UNDER THE KING OF THE PINES
BY ALICE SPENCER aEDDEs


UNDER THE KING OF THE PINES.
BY ALICE SPENCER GEDDEs
The whistle of the New Hampshire
Lumber Company's saw mill blew
shrilly in the mountain air. The
workmen began to collect their coats
and empty dinner boxes preparatory
to scrambling into Bill Bickford's cart
for their homeward journey. The
dusty white mare settled herself in her
harness and broke into that rambling
trot which it was her custom never to
vary during the entire eight miles to
the village.
"Say, fellers, look at thet, now,"
said Bill, as they turned into the val
ley. The men looked anxiously to-
ward one-story cabin which stood
alone in the centre of field on the
opposite side of the road from the
clearing. On the low doorstep
crouched an old man, his head rest
ing on his knees, and his long, white
hair falling almost to the ground.
when l KEN down to the river
morn two hours ago." continued
Bill, "Uncle Ord sat thar jest like
tibet, and he amt moved straw since.
Guess he's sleepin'.' -
The rattle of the ramshackle cart
deid away and only the gurgle of the
bull frogs and the chirping Of wake
full bird broke the twilight stiffness.
As the sunset colors grew dim, Uncle
Ord's head sank lower and lower and
he began to rock himself back and
forth and moan:
1t amt no use, can't bear 1t no.
how. 1t amt no use."
Never before had Uncle Ord been
otherwise than happy. He was so
gay and joyous playmate that the
children for miles around all loved
him, and the farm folks would have
as soon expected to see the King of
the Pines, on the top of the mountain
opposite his cabin, wither and die as
to find Uncle Ord sorrowful. So
many were the years that he had
lived alone in his little cabin that even
the oldest inhabitants could hardly
remember when he came or the rea-
sons for his choice of solitary life.
AS time brought more and more in.
frmities to him, the kindly folks of
the valley came to feel that Uncle
Ord was a personal responsibility.
They took turns in taking him pro-
visions, and as the winters came
around, one and another tried in vain
to persuade him to leave his lonely
home and live with them.
When the New Hampshire Lum-
Der Company built the saw mill, and
the roar of the machinery shut off the
songs of the birds, Uncle Ord grew
perceptibly weaker and weaker. He
seemed to wither with the trees as
they lay strewn upon the hillside.
But every day-each time more slow
ly and feebly-he climbed the noun
tain and rested for longer aud longer
time under the remaining pines.
On the morning of the day when
Bill Bickford thought he was asleep,
one of the men had called out to him
as he passed the mill
"Well, Uncle Ord" he had said,
eyed better make the most of them
pines terday, fer they'll be the next
to go tomorrow.
Uncle Ord reeled and swayed where
he stood. His knees gave way, but
with courageous effort he drew him
self erect, pointed with his gaunt and
trembling forefnger to a group of
pines on the crest of the mountain,
and in a thin, cracked voice asked
weakly
"Them up there, de ye mean?"
The man nodded.
Uncle Ord stared first at the man
and then at the trees, his weather
stained, tanned cheeks grew pale TN
der the brown, his lips moved but the
sounds he made in his throat were un-
Ineligible. At last his head fell
weakly on his breast and his arms
dropped Imply at his sides. Then
he turned and tottered down the hill.
When he reached the cabin he sank
on the doorstep and did not move un-
til reused by the shouts of Bill and
the men in the cart. AS the evening
mist crept up the valley and laid its
chilly mantlearound him, he shivered,
drew his knees closer to his body and
continued to moan and murmur:
IT can't bear it, nohow. 1t amt
no use. F."
He paid no heed when, from the
woods at the foot of the mountain, a
vesper sparrow sent forth its tender
note of calling-a note that had al
ways found its answer in the heart of
Uncle Ord. But when the bird ut
tered another y-aprolonged, plain
tive cry which seemed to mourn the
desolation of the barren hills-he
ceased to moan and raised his head to
listen. As she cried out again, even
sadder than before, he sobbed:
"Ye can't bear it, nuther, can ye,
little bird?"
Until the sparrow had finished his
vesper call, Uncle Ord listeued, his
eyes resting on the group of pines at
the top of the mountain. AS their
outlines gradually faded into the
gathering darkness, he struggled to
his feet and murmured:
"It amt no use trying to bear it,
cause 1 can't, nohow."
With his eyes fixed on the spot on
the opposite hill where the King OF
the Pines had disappeared into the