The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1920-06-04

pieces OF gold, but saved his money
for him for the day when he should
need it again.
They watched Old Drew and his
young helpers grubbing out the old
stumps and dragging them down to
his cabin, which was beside the new
Contract road, over which the automo-
bile stage now carried the mail and
which the Legeres drove their own
little gasoline machine
i Old Drew Nuckle's industry and
perseverance never tagged He put
himself in possession of all the old
black walnut stumps and chunks on
that side of the mountains for miles
and miles around. Old fields were
grubbed out, new cut-overs cleaned.
even old fences replaced by new, and
the abandoned ruins of log cabins
were taxed, seeking the waste for
which Old Drew would pay real
money.
At the last, adults were bringing in
old timber on their wagons or even
strapped across the saddles of their
horses. glad to have the pennies which
the mailman would give them.
How long Old Drew would have
gone on collecting those chunks no
one could tell. Somewhere, somehow,
he had caught one fleeing fact in the
welter of ideas and opportunities that
grew up with the outbreak of the big
war Somehow, his mad mind had
seized upon the fact of one real need
in the world crisis. He had set about
trying to supply that need. He had
| gathered thousands upon thousands
of chunks, every one of black walnut,
some whole stumps, wind polished
roots and knots.
He had them, but his poor enfeebled
mind did not tell him what to do with
them. He was like the young, un-
trained robin with the instinct to build
a nest, gathering bushels and bushels
of twigs and mud and grass and other
material, spreading it along all the
beam of barn, but not understanding
building.
| So Sal-Bet Leigere wondered about
his idea She grappled with the fact
that the old fellow must have some
incentive, somewhere, to start him
gathering those chunks, Little by lit
tie, she applied the shrewdness in
herited from her father, Old Grumpy,
first at one point, then at another.
Black walnut, in long timber was
valuable, of course. Her own fortune
was based on the sales of walnut tree
logs. But here was a vast mass of
mere little chunks. Old Drew had paid
as high as five cents a dozen for wal
nut pieces, no larger than her wrist
and hand. He had received an inn
pulse somewhere, he had seen an CD
portunity-seized it, worked it out, and
now he had forgotten what it was. He
could not remember what he had had
in mind.
|, Hes like a miser who sets out to
get money enough to buy farm, and
then forgets what he wants the gold
for, and he keeps on saving, and saw
ing, never knowing when he has had
enough, or when to stop!' she
thought.
One day she heard rumor. Some
of the wild young men were going to
have some fun with Old Drew. They
were going down to the old mans
place and build a fire in one end of
the great snag pile, and set back and
enjoy seeing the old man romp and
rage around. Sal-Bet knew that the
young scoundrels would do what they
were talking about. 1t seemed to her
to be a wanton shame, but she could
not see her way clear to preventing
it. Teasing the crazy old man was
common enough.
"It's his own wood" she agreed
with one youth. "You have no right
to burn it,"
"Yah-hit's no count-old sticks an
stumpsl" she was told. "Hitd be fun
to see it blaze up, an Old Drew roar
in, tearin around"
/ He'd sure kill somebody" she sug,
gested.
"Shucks!" the youth retorted. HE
amt got no gun"
| "Well, have," she exclaimed. I'm
goin' down there, an I'll shoot any
young scoundrel find tryin to burn
Old Drew's wood pile!"
She had a rifle of her own, 25-o5
caliber, which her husband had given
her to shoot at wild turkeys and
SQUIRRELS and other game. She took
IT and started on her horse down the
road. with her belt of ammunition.
She found Old Drew sitting on the
sunny side of his heap of chunks,
fondling a piece about 20 inches long,
Eseven inches wide and shaped like the
folded wing of bird.
Hits a purity Hits purty!" he
IL,