The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1920-06-04
Stumps of Good Timber
COMPLETE NOVELETTE, By Raymond S. Spears
By Raymond S. Spears

was no place left to sell sang or
herbs; revenue officers were more ac-
tive, cutting off the market for their
crops of grain and fruit by destroying
moonshine stills. Everything that
was purchased Outside" began to 90
up and up-sugar, coffee, flour, salt
and the like, as well as all cooking
utensils, all manufactured fabrics,
leather and rubber boots and hats.
Poverty among the people grew so
intense that nothing else could be
thought about. Old Drew had taken
his departmental the people had
other things to think about, which
were, as they supposed, much more
important.
Old Drew Nuckle, however, returned
in the winter that followed. He looked
ten years younger; he walked with
brisk footsteps; he had strange light
in his eyes-madness, but not the
old insanity. Not once did he say
"a skun log f1oats!" Instead he cried:
Boys! They wouldn't take me for
warning, but kin hep! kin he'p."
Crazy? Crazier than ever! Poor
Old Drew had something wrong in his
head, somewhere. A laugh went up,
but Drew persisted in saying that they
could all help, up there in the noun
tains.
He set the example for them; he
went out into the clearings and old
cutovers and gathered up chunks of
old stumps that stood in the fields
the pieces of wood that had set and
weather hardened while all the rest
of the stumps and roots decayed. He
had lost his mind, people reminded
one another, in a dicker over 240O
acres of land where black walnut
grew in fine stand. Now he gathered
pieces of black walnut stumps, gnarled
boles and knots and roots. He dug
them out with pickax and shovel, and
toted them down to his Gospel and
Literature Lot cabin, piece by piece.
Some Of the chunks were no longer
than his forearm; others were so
large and heavy that he had to up
end them over and over, or roll them
down to his front yard.
what are yo' dom, Drew" people
would ask.
"I'm he'pin' in the war;" the old
man would reply. not pausing in his
efforts. 'T'm a he'pin'!"
There was laugh in every time
Drew Nuckle made his reply. The old
man had somehow picked up the no.
ton that he was helping wage war
for civilization, liberty and oppressed
nations by gathering the material fit
for a snag-stump fence. He was not
satisfied to work alone, ut that.
When he went mad he had had seve-
raj thousands of dollars buried in the
ground, and for a long time neither
he nor anyone else could find the
money. Now he brought out mys-
FERROUS gold, silver, nickel and cop
per coins. Shrewdly he held silence
about the source of his supply, and no
one could follow him 10 where he
tapped his hidden hoard He hired
help gathering those ridiculous chunks
of wood
Old Drew's madness was boon to
his mountain neighbors; the pennies
and small silver which paid the little
children for gathering black walnut
chunks sailed many dinner, got
raisings for many mess of hot bread
and added necessities to many a pow
erty stricken cabin.
The unfeeling laughed as they gazed
at that shimmering, gnarled, black
heap of walnut chun ks raising in Old
Drew Nuckle's yard. From little
pile, like a section of stump fence, it
grew till it covered square yards,
then square rods. The mass increased
till it was as large as cabin, and
finally, till it was as big as the famous
Marble palace over on Holston.
From few score chucks, it grew
until there were fairly hundreds of
cords of chunks, to which thousands
of acres of cut-over lands had con-
tributed. Only black walnut pieces
were in the mass. Old Drew Nuckle
knew woods, none better. He could
recognize by feel the smooth, beauti-
full texture in the blacklist night when
some mountain fugitive from justice
dickered with him; he knew the swell
of a shaving of walnut from any other
kind of wood; light knot or dead
weight bole, he was not to be fooled.
what yo' goin' to do with it?" a
man asked.
I'm gwine to hep fight in the war;"
Old Drew grinned.
''But how are yo' goin' to hep fight
the war with that stuff" the man
persisted.
Old Drew puzzled to find an answer.
The observers saw his mad face
twitching and his tongue wrapping
itself around, trying to put forth the
answer that Glove in his throat He
could not answer. Out of the days