The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1920-06-11

months, and people decided that Old
Drew had fallen into some deep river
eddy, or he had wandered up into
the mountains where he had died, per-
haps from sickness, perhaps from in
jury. AS he belonged to no one, no
one went to seek him. Hard times
came on all the mountain people.
Markets for their timber closed; the
prices of furs came away down; there
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 go
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 departure 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 fioats!" 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 dicker over 2400
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.
'Tm he'pin' in the war;" the old
man would reply, not pausing in his
efforts. "I'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 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 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 a dinner, got
raisings for many mess of hot bread
and added necessities to many 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 a little
pile, like section of stump fence, it
grew till it covered square yards,
then square rods. The mass increased
till it was as large as a cabin, and
finally, till it was as big as the famous
Marble palace over on Holston.
From a 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