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Cornell University Library 
 PZ 7.F8894U 
 
 Uncle Zeb & his friends, 
 
 3 1924 014 518 736 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924014518736 
 
Uncle Zeb and His Friends 
 
.Tv^Vrt«V\»tr« . 
 
 But best of all were the stories the old man told. 
 
UNCLE ZEB'^ 
 HIS ^ FRIENDS 
 
 BY-EDWARD W. FRENTZ 
 
 mm ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 EDNAA.TREMAINE |j) ; 
 
 BOSTON 
 THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY PRESS 
 
Copyright, iQig, by 
 THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY PRESS, INC. 
 
 (^ )?1 ItL 
 
 To the Perry Mason Company, publishers of the Youth's 
 Companion, in which all of these stories first appeared, 
 the author owes and hereby expresses his gratitude for 
 the generous permission to reprint them here. 
 
To the spirit of childhood, the most 
 beautiful thing in the world, these 
 little stories are reverently dedicated 
 
Uncle Zeb's cabin stood at the end of a short lane 
 that ran up from the "back road" toward the moun- 
 tain. Two great poplars shaded its mossy roof, and 
 their silver leaves shook and shimmered in the sunlight, 
 no matter how still the day was. Boys and girls had 
 often sat on the old bench by the door, and looked up 
 into the great trees in the hope of finding the leaves 
 motionless; but there had never been a time when they 
 were not moving, as if unseen fingers were tickling 
 them and they were trying to get away. 
 
 Behind the cabin was a little garden-patch, where 
 the old man raised most of the things he needed to eat 
 during the winter; and in one corner of the lot stood 
 the shop, a treasure-house of things that the old man 
 made. There were beautiful canes, and strange wind- 
 mills, and graceful canoes, and dainty boxes of birch- 
 bark, and other things from woods and fields that delight 
 the heart of a boy who loves the out-of-doors and who 
 likes to make things. 
 
 But best of all were the stories that the old man told 
 as he worked. Some were «tories about girls, and some 
 were about boys, and there were many that had to do 
 with animals. No one of the children had ever heard 
 all of them, but an old friend of Uncle Zeb's knew them 
 all, and after a time set them down in a book; and this is 
 the book. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 The Outstretched Hand . i 
 
 The Tinker's Willow . 5 
 
 Bob 9 
 
 The Pirate of the Pond Hole 14 
 
 The Runaway Duck . .... 18 
 
 The Indian Basket . .... 22 
 
 A Son of the Mountains 26 
 
 The Family Garden . . ... 30 
 
 An Interrupted Vacation 35 
 
 Phcebe Ann's Christmas Tree .... 40 
 
 The Little Water People -46 
 
 Curing Rosa May . . 49 
 
 On Salt-Water Ice 54 
 
 The Little Path ... . . -57 
 
 How Christmas Came at Midsummer . . 61 
 
 Grandfather's Nickname . 67 
 
 Lemonade Sandy . . 71 
 
 Caught in a Flood 75 
 
 Jimmie's Birds . . 79 
 
 An Indian Birthday Spoon . . 83 
 
 Uncle David's Brother . . 87 
 
 A Prisoner Set Free . 92 
 
 Pine-Needle Pictures .... . 96 
 
 The Abandoned Well . 100 
 
 In Lost Swamp 104 
 
X CONTENTS 
 
 The Captives 109 
 
 On the Old Wharf . 112 
 
 Uncle Dan's Bear Story 116 
 
 A Pioneer's Thanksgiving 119 
 
 Pedro's Wooden Leg 123 
 
 "Old Mustard" 128 
 
 A Good Lesson . . . 133 
 
 How Grant Earned His Calf . 136 
 
 Johnnie's Bright Idea ' 140 
 
 The Little Red Workers 145 
 
 The Dog that Danced 148 
 
 The Star in the Grass ... 153 
 
 The Deer with a Red Tie 158 
 
 The Battle . . 162 
 
 The Storehouse in the Wood 165 
 
 Gathering the Treasure 169 
 
 The Game of "T. G. B. B." 174 
 
 Why the Squirrels Moved . .... 177 
 
 Grandfather's Dan 182 
 
 His Task ... 186 
 
 Roy's Bear-Hunt 190 
 
 Out of the Big Marsh . 195 
 
 Grandmother's Panther 200 
 
 Three Orphans 205 
 
 A Game Postponed . . 209 
 
 The Scratching on the Door 214 
 
 The Tree that Fought for France 220 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 But best of all were the stories the old man told . Frontispiece 
 
 The dog did not have to be told what to do. . . . In half a 
 
 minute he had the boy in shallow water .... 12 
 
 Out of one of the lower doors of the house a big gray rat was 
 
 creeping 19 
 
 But Peter would come and rub lovingly against him and purr 
 
 like a little spinning-wheel . . 38 
 
 It blew so hard that the water swept clear across the point, 
 and it looked as if Santa Claus could not get out to the 
 lighthouse . . . 41 
 
 In a few minutes the new face had two big blue eyes and a 
 rosebud mouth and curly, golden hair and a pair of pink 
 cheeks 52 
 
 When the big doctor came that day the little boy was sleeping. 
 
 By his side lay the skates and the little ship . 65 
 
 It was hot, hot weather, and as people went by, the cold lem- 
 onade looked tempting. They, too, heard the story of 
 Sandy .... ... 73 
 
 An old Indian in a red shirt, and with nioccasins on his feel, 
 held the canoe steady while theboys dropped carefully into 
 it; and then, like an arrow, the little craft dashed away . 77 
 
 Jimmie kept bravely on until he could just reach out and 
 
 untwist the string that held the bird's leg . . 81 
 
 In his hand was the canteen which he was trying to fill again 
 
 for his wounded enemy .... . 90 
 
 Ethel began with a house; Henry was busy with a sailboat; 
 and Uncle Hubert made a camel and its driver resting 
 under a tree 97 
 
xii ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 During the next two weeks Johnnie and all his friends spent 
 
 much time watching the rooster with the wooden leg . 125 
 
 And then the little girl made a curtsey and said, "I only wish, 
 
 sir, that it was to let you in" 134 
 
 When the other boys reached the foot of the hill, the three who 
 had gone down were sitting digging the snow from their ears 
 and the hacks of their necks 143 
 
 All at once, there came a great shouting and crashing in 
 the hushes, and out popped a little man who talked very 
 loudly to the hear and seemed to be scolding him . 151 
 
 They were going to put the bees asleep and keep them asleep 
 
 until they had taken out the honey . . . 172 
 
 There was no way to get back to their warm beds and the 
 
 corn and nuts . . 180 
 
 He tied a long string to one of the bear's hind legs, and with 
 the gun over one shoulder and the string over the other, 
 he started to drag the bear to the house 193 
 
 Both Johnnie and Uncle Zeb worked hard until nearly noon, 
 
 cutting the rushes and tying them into bundles . . . 197 
 
 " They felt sure that the boys who came after them would learn 
 from them the lesson of how to do the hard thing if it is 
 the right thing," he said 211 
 
 Bobby had been busy every minute. Sometimes he helped to 
 empty buckets, and sometimes he drove old Buck harnessed 
 to the sleigh that drew the sap to camp 215 
 
 The baby bear had smelled the syrup . 218 
 
Uncle Zeb and His Friends 
 
UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 The Outstretched Hand 
 
 THERE was no answer when Johnnie knocked at 
 Uncle Zeb's cabin door; and so, after waiting 
 a few minutes, he went round the corner and 
 along the path to the shop. There he heard someone 
 pounding, and through the open door caught sight of 
 the old man working at his bench. 
 
 "Ah!" said Uncle Zeb. "So you have come again to 
 see the old man work!" 
 
 He brushed the shavings from the top of a stool, and 
 Johnnie sat down. 
 
 To make sure that he should not touch the old man's 
 tools or handle the other things on the bench without 
 permission, Johnnie put his hands in his pockets. As he 
 did so, he felt something hard, and drew it out. It was a 
 roll of large lozenges that he had forgotten; but now he 
 took it out and was going to put one of the lozenges into 
 his mouth, when he happened to think that it would be 
 most impolite to eat his candy without offering some to 
 Uncle Zeb. 
 
 The old man smiled at him through his big glasses, 
 and took some. When he had tasted it a little while, he 
 said, "Do you know where it grows?" 
 
2 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 "Where what grows?" asked Johnnie. 
 
 " This candy," said the old man. 
 
 " Why, candy does n't grow; you have to buy it at the 
 store — unless somebody gives it to you," said Johnnie. 
 
 "Yes, but./ know where this kind grows. It comes 
 from a bush or little tree — a most curious tree. How 
 would you like to go with me to look for it along the foot 
 of the mountain.?" 
 
 "That would be great!" cried Johnnie. And in a few 
 minutes the shop was locked, and the old man and the 
 boy were climbing the rocky path behind the garden 
 patch. 
 
 " What does it look like — this bush that the candy 
 grows on ? " asked Johnnie, after they had gone a little 
 way. 
 
 "Well," said Uncle Zeb, "it is different from any 
 other bush or tree in the woods. When it is young, the 
 bark is smooth and very green — as green as grass; but 
 when it grows older, it begins to turn brown, and gets 
 full of wrinkles, just as people do." And he laughed 
 until his own brown, wrinkled face looked like a good- 
 natured baked apple. 
 
 "But that is not the strangest thing about it," he 
 went on. "The strangest thing is that the leaves are 
 like little hands stretched out to beckon to you. On 
 most trees and bushes the leaves are all of one kind ; but 
 on this bush you will find three kinds, and every one will 
 be a little bright green mitten. Some of the mittens will 
 have one thumb, as all mittens should have, and some 
 
THE OUTSTRETCHED HAND 3 
 
 will have no thumb, and some will have two thumbs, 
 one on each side. Now look sharp. 
 
 For a little while longer they went on; then Johnnie 
 caught sight of a green stem running up into a roof of 
 large, glossy green leaves. He looked closer, and there 
 among the leaves was one shaped exactly like a mitten, 
 with the thumb in just the right place, and another with 
 the thumb on the left-hand side; and then he saw that 
 they were all mittens, as the old man had said, some 
 with two thumbs, some with one thumb, and some with 
 no thumb at all. 
 
 "I've found it. Uncle Zeb!" he cried. 
 
 The old man came back, smiling. "Why, sure enough! 
 You've hit it right the first time, just as slick as a real 
 woodsman could do." 
 
 But Johnnie was not smiling. Instead, he was looking 
 the bush all over, lifting the bunches of leaves and feel- 
 ing the under sides of them. "I thought you said the 
 candy grew on It," he said. In a disappointed tone. 
 
 The old man laughed again. "Nature does n't put 
 her candy in the show-case," he chuckled. " She puts It 
 where It will keep better, and where It will always be 
 fresh. She makes you hunt for it. Now you take hold 
 with me and pull hard, and we'll see what we find." 
 
 Shoulder to shoulder with the old man, Johnnie took 
 hold of the bush, and both of them pulled. Little by 
 little It started. The earth began to rise In a long ridge. 
 Plop! plop! plop! The little downward-running roots 
 gave way, and then suddenly a long, snake-like root 
 
4 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 that lay just below the top of the ground broke out, and 
 both Johnnie and Uncle Zeb went over on their backs. 
 
 "Now," said the old man, "we will go down to the 
 brook." 
 
 He took the long root with him, and when they had 
 carefully washed it in the clear running water, he passed 
 it to Johnnie. 
 
 "Taste it," he said. 
 
 Johnnie bit out a piece of the bark — white, tender, 
 and juicy. "O-o-o, goody!" he cried. "It's just what 
 you said — it tastes just the same as the candy!" 
 
 "Yes, only better," added Uncle Zeb, "for it isn't so 
 sweet, and it has the flavor of the woods, where all sorts 
 of good things are stored up for us if we know where to 
 look for them. And besides, you earned it yourself." 
 
The Tinker's Willow 
 
 ONE day, when my Grandfather Gilford was about 
 seven years old, he looked across the road to his 
 father's blacksmith shop, and seeing someone 
 sitting on the bench by the door, went over to find out 
 who it was. 
 
 He found a little old man, with thick, bushy eyebrows 
 and bright blue eyes. His clothes were made all of 
 leather, which creaked and rattled when he moved. By 
 his side was a partly open pack, in which grandfather 
 could see curious tools and sheets of shiny tin. By that 
 he knew that the man was the traveling tinker, who 
 came once or twice a year to mend leaky pans and pails, 
 and of whom he had heard his mother speak. 
 
 The old man was eating his luncheon — a slice or two 
 of bread, a bit of cold meat, and a cold potato; and be- 
 cause it seemed so poor a luncheon, grandfather went 
 back to the house and brought two big apples from the 
 cellar. The old man thanked him and ate the apples. 
 Then he got up, brushed the bread-crumbs from his 
 leather breeches, and taking a little tin dipper from his 
 pack, went down to the brook for a drink of water. 
 When he had had his fill, he came back to the bench and 
 sat down. 
 
 "Now, my boy," he said, "we will make a tree grow 
 here by the brook. There should be one, for shade." 
 
6 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 "Make a tree!" cried grandfather. "How can we 
 make a tree? I thought only God made trees." 
 
 "True," said the old man. "Only God makes trees, 
 but sometimes we can help Him." 
 
 With that, he took from the bench at his side a stick 
 that he had cut somewhere by the road, and had been 
 using for a cane. It was slender and straight, and grand- 
 father noticed that the bark was smooth and of a beau- 
 tiful light green. 
 
 "Of this," said the old man, "we will make a tree in 
 which the birds of the air shall build their nests, and 
 under which the beasts of the field shall find shelter and 
 rest in the heat of the day. But first there shall be music, 
 to please the spirits of the springtime. Take this stick 
 down to the brook, and wet it all over." 
 
 So my grandfather took the stick and did as the old 
 man told him. When he came back to the bench, the 
 tinker had a large horn-handled knife open In his hand. 
 With the blade, which seemed very sharp, he made a 
 single cut through the bark of the stick, about a foot >' 
 from one end, and by holding the knife still, and spin- 
 ning the stick slowly toward him in his fingers, he car- 
 ried the cut all the way round. Then, near the end, he 
 cut a deep notch, and four or five smaller notches in a 
 line farther down; and after that he laid the stick across 
 his knee, and turning it all the while, began to pound it 
 gently with the handle of the knife. 
 
 When he had pounded a long time, he laid down the 
 knife, and taking the stick in both hands, gave it a little 
 
THE 'TINKER'S WILLOW 7 
 
 twist. At that, grandfather heard something pop, and 
 saw the bark slip from the end of the stick above the 
 knife-cut, all whole except for the notches: a smooth, 
 green tube. 
 
 Of the part of the stick from which he had slipped the 
 bark, the old man cut away more than half, and across 
 the upper end he made a smooth, slanting cut. Then he 
 bade grandfather wet the stick again, and when he had 
 done it, he slipped the bark back to its place, and put the 
 end of the stick in his mouth and began to blow; and 
 out of the holes he had cut, which he stopped, one after 
 another, with his fingers, came what grandfather said 
 was the sweetest music he had ever heard — music like 
 the voice of a bird singing a long way off, or like that of 
 a tiny bell. 
 
 As the old man played, he seemed to forget all about 
 grandfather; but by and by he laid down the whistle, 
 and smiled and said, "Come. Now we will make the 
 tree." 
 
 And together the old man and the boy walked down 
 to the brook, and crossed over on some stepping-stones, 
 to a place where the ground was soft and black and 
 wet; and there, while the boy held the stick straight, the 
 old man pushed it far down into the mud until it stood 
 firm and true, with the whistle at the upper end of it. 
 And the old man took off his hat, and bowing to the 
 stick, seemed to my grandfather to make a speech to it. 
 
 "Little brother," he said, "we leave you here, where 
 you will never be hungry or thirsty. You have made 
 
8 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 your little music for us to-day, but when you have grown 
 tall and strong, One who is greater than I shall play 
 upon you with the breath of his mighty winds; and when 
 this little boy is older than I am now," — here he put 
 his hand on my grandfather's head, — "his children's 
 children shall hear your music and be glad." 
 
 In a little while after that, the old man put on his 
 pack and went away; but my grandfather could not for- 
 get him, and almost every day he looked at the stick by 
 the brook. The whistle at the top began to wither and 
 dry up, and the loose bark cracked open and fell away, 
 until it seemed as if the whole stick must be dead. But 
 one day my grandfather saw that a tiny bud had ap- 
 peared below where the whistle had been; and the bud 
 became a little sprout, and the sprout a shoot, and other 
 shoots followed, until the stick was indeed a little tree. 
 
 Through all the years that came after, it grew taller 
 and stronger, until "The Tinker's Willow" was known 
 as the greatest tree in all the countryside, and the birds 
 did, indeed, build their nests among its branches, and 
 the cattle lay in its shade in the hot noontide. 
 
 Even when my grandfather was an old, old man, and 
 had grown-up sons and daughters and many grand- 
 children, he loved to sit on the bench by the shop and 
 listen to the voice of the wind among the leaves of the 
 great tree; arid then, if we asked him, he would tell us 
 again of the tinker who planted it, and of the music that 
 came from the stick out of which it grew. 
 
Bob 
 
 EARLY one morning Mark Lewis was awakened 
 by a low whining under his window. Mark was 
 spending the summer on his grandfather's farm, 
 and his bedroom, being in the ell of the house, was just 
 above the side door. 
 
 Mark crawled quickly out of bed and ran to the open 
 window. The big, flat door-stone was just beneath him, 
 and on the stone sat a puppy. 
 
 The dog was brown and white, with a coat of long, 
 thick hair that would have been pretty if it had not been 
 wet and muddy, full of snarls and tangled with burs. 
 
 The little fellow was so thin that anyone could count 
 all his ribs. He was shivering, too, for the early morning 
 air was sharp. 
 
 The dog, hearing the slight noise that Mark made 
 when he went to the window, looked up at him with a 
 pair of soft brown eyes that seemed to say, "Please give 
 me something to eat. I am a poor dog that has no home 
 and is out of work!" 
 
 Mark hurried down, and opened the door. The little 
 dog came in, whimpering, and wiggling all over. In a 
 minute his little pink tongue was lapping a dish of milk, 
 and it kept on until the last drop was gone. 
 
 It took a good deal of teasing on the part of Mark and 
 his cousins, Fred and Charlie, to get permission to keep 
 
lo UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the puppy; but at last grandfather and grandmother 
 said yes, and all three of the boys were very happy. 
 They gave the dog the name of Bob, and began at once 
 to teach him to mind and to do tricks. 
 
 One day, when they had had him about a week, they 
 were playing with him in front of the house. Mark had 
 an apple that he would throw for Bob to chase; but 
 they thought it was better fun sometimes not to throw 
 the apple, but only to make the motion. Poor Bob would 
 see Mark's arm move, and away he would dash, with- 
 out stopping to see whether the apple went or not; and 
 then he would look so puzzled that you could not help 
 laughing at him. 
 
 While they were playing in that way, the doctor drove 
 along and stopped to see what the boys were doing. 
 When he had watched them a moment, he called them 
 up to his carriage, and said, "Boys, I am sorry to see 
 that you are lying to your dog." 
 
 "Why, sir, what do you mean.?" asked Fred. "We 
 have n't said anything to him, and he could n't under- 
 stand it if we did." 
 
 "Yes," said the doctor, "but people sometimes tell 
 lies by what they do as well as by what they say. Your 
 little dog has only a small dog's mind. He cannot think 
 things out for himself, as you can. When you make a 
 motion as if to throw the apple, he trusts you : he thinks 
 you mean to throw it; and when you hold the apple 
 back, you really tell him a lie. By and by he will learn 
 that he cannot trust you, and then he will not do what 
 you tell him to. You ought never to lie to a dog." 
 
BOB II 
 
 That seemed funny to the boys at first, but they all 
 liked the doctor, and so they stopped fooling Bob. In 
 time he became so well trained that he would do any- 
 thing his young masters told him to do, if only he under- 
 stood what they meant. 
 
 Best of all, he Hked to bring things out of the water; 
 and he had learned that he could trust his young friends 
 so surely that, if one of them only made a motion to- 
 ward the water, in Bob would go, certain that he would 
 find there something that must be brought to land. 
 
 One afternoon near the end of the long vacation the 
 boys went down to the shore of the pond to play. While 
 Mark and Fred were watching a turtle, little Charlie 
 went over to a big rock that reached out into deep wa- 
 ter. All at once there was a splash and a scream, and 
 Charlie was gone. He had slipped from the rock. 
 
 The other boys ran, crying, toward him, and Mark 
 lay down on his stomach, to reach out as far as he could; 
 but Charlie was nowhere to be seen. In their fear both 
 boys screamed at the top of their voices. A second later 
 Bob came tearing out of the bushes, barking as if he 
 knew something was wrong, and was trying to say, 
 "What's the matter.? What do you want me to do.'' " 
 
 Both boys had the same thought at the same time. 
 Bob could do what they could not. Each made the 
 motion of throwing something into the water, and each 
 cried, "In, Bob, in! Go fetch it!" 
 
 With a great splash Bob leaped clear of the rock and 
 began to swim in a circle. He had not made even one 
 
The dog did not have to he told what to do. . . In half a 
 minute he had the hoy in shallow water. 
 
BOB 13 
 
 turn when Charlie's head came up close at hand. The 
 dog did not have to be told what to do. He knew that 
 he was there to get something, so he fastened his teeth 
 in Charlie's coat-collar, and in half a minute had him 
 in shallow water, where the boys could drag him out. 
 
 That evening, when the doctor had come down from 
 Charlie's room, and had said that he would be all right 
 in the morning, and the boys had told him again how 
 quickly and how well Bob had acted, the doctor patted 
 the dog's curly head tenderly, and turning to Mark, 
 said, "Now do you see, my boy, why I told you never to 
 lie to a dog." 
 
The Pirate of the Pond Hole 
 
 THE brook on the Alden farm comes dancmg 
 and singing along through the woods; it strolls 
 out into the pasture, wriggles under the road 
 through a dark, rock-bound hole, and then, as if tired 
 and in search of rest, it stretches itself out in the duck 
 pond. Tall willows in soft green dresses fan it all day, 
 and cat-o'-nine-tails whisper little secrets to it. 
 
 To Lawrence Alden the brook and pond are friends 
 and playmates, always ready to amuse him, or tell 
 him something that he did not know before; and so he 
 has spent much time with them. 
 
 On the still water of the pond there swam a flock of 
 twenty little mandarin ducks, all his own. Their mother 
 was always with them, sailing from one little cove to 
 another, like a ship in a fleet of boats, calling them back 
 to her side when they got too far away, as the ship calls 
 in its boats when the sea grows rough. Lawrence bnew 
 that the mother duck would look after her little flock 
 faithfully, but there were some dangers from w4iich she 
 could not prptect them. Once, when he was lying by the 
 shore, an evil-looking crow had sailed over, close to the 
 surface of the water. The old duck had called tlie young 
 ones to her with a great quacking, and had thrashed 
 the water so hard with her wings that the crow had 
 passed; but he alighted on a fence-post near by, and sat 
 
THE PIRATE OF THE POND HOLE 15 
 
 there, scolding and muttering to himself, till Lawrence 
 
 drove him away. 
 
 , Another time, as Lawrence was watching some polly- 
 
 gs, a slim brown body slipped silently out from be- 
 
 ^en two rocks in the bank, dived into the pool, and 
 c^sae up with a small fish. Then, seeing Lawrence move 
 a'little, it glared at him with a beady black eye, and 
 hissed like an angry cat. A mink ! It would go hard with 
 the little ducks if a mink ever got among them! 
 
 For a week Lawrence counted the ducks every night, 
 and found the number right. Then, one evening, there 
 were only nineteen, nor could he find the missing one 
 anywhere. The next night two more were gone, and 
 the day after that, still another. The old duck seemed 
 frightened. She kept her flock close teside her, and 
 stayed with them near the shore. 
 
 Most of the day now, Lawrence watched from his 
 place under the willows, but neither the crow nor the 
 mink came back. Then just before noon one day, there 
 was a great fluttering, and with a terrified "Quack!" 
 one of the little ducks went out of sight before his very 
 eyes. He saw nothing touch it; it seemed to be dragged 
 under the water and never came up again. Only a 
 widening circle of ripples remained to show the spot. 
 
 At the barn Lawrence found Henry, his father's 
 hired man, and told him what he had seen. 
 
 "Aha'!" said Henry. "I guess I know the old boy 
 that is doing the mischief. We must get him, or you 
 will not have a duck left. I'll help you after dinner." 
 
i6 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 When the meal was over, Henry went up to his room, 
 and came back with a large fish-hook. To the shank of 
 it he fastened a stout piece of copper wire about a foot 
 long, with a loop in the end; and through the loop hc* 
 passed a strong cord. From the cellar he brought up an 
 empty two-gallon jug, which he corked tight, and to the- 
 handle of which he tied the other end of the cord that 
 held the hook. 
 
 "Now," he said to Lawrence, "get me a piece of meat 
 with some fat and some tough gristle on it." 
 
 When Lawrence brought it, Henry pushed it on the 
 hook; and taking the things with them, the two started 
 for the shore. 
 
 Lawrence pointed out the place where the little duck 
 had gone down. "It's about ten feet deep there," said 
 Henry, and he shortened the cord on the jug till the 
 hook was only seven or eight feet from the handle. 
 Then, once more making sure that the cork was tight, 
 he pushed the jug slowly out from the shore into the 
 deeper water of the pond, and threw the baited hook 
 beyond it. 
 
 "Now," he said, "I must go back to my work. Sit 
 still, watch the jug, and see what happens." 
 
 For an hour nothing happened, except that the jug, 
 turning first this way and then that, and bowing 
 gravely to all the shores as the gentle wind moved it, 
 drifted slowly away. Then suddenly it gave a jump and 
 went over on its side, and at length passed out of sight 
 under water. But in a moment it appeared once more. 
 
THE PIRATE OF THE POND HOLE 17 
 
 dancing and whirling in the liveliest way; then it began 
 to move rapidly out from the. shore. 
 
 Lawrence started on the run for Henry. When the 
 two got back to the shore, the jug was gone; but they 
 took the boat and pushed out, and soon found the jug 
 among the cat-o'-nine-tails. Henry reached down into 
 the water and began to pull. The cord jerked this way 
 and that, but steadily came in, till there rose by the 
 boat a great black head like a snake's, but with a beak 
 like a hawk's, and angry yellow eyes. Then a broad 
 back appeared, and two wildly pawing flippers. It 
 was a great mud-turtle, the enemy of all water-birds. 
 Across his shell from back to front he measured more 
 than eighteen inches, and later they found that he 
 weighed nearly twenty pounds. From his dark hole in 
 the mud he had risen silently to the surface, and catch- 
 ing the little ducks by the legs, had dragged them down. 
 
 "But why," asked Lawrence, "did you put the jug 
 on the line.'"' 
 
 "Because," said Henry, "if I had tied the cord to a 
 stake or the tree, he might have broken loose. The jug 
 he could n't hold down long, for it was full of air, and 
 so it kept pulling him up till he was tired out." 
 
The Runaway Duck 
 
 IN the centre of the big city park is a beautiful little 
 pond, and in the pond is an island, and on the 
 island stands a curious little house. 
 
 There are no windows, but only two long rows of 
 doors: one on the ground, the other reached, not by 
 flights of stairs, but by boards sloping gently up to the 
 second story and down almost to the water's edge. 
 
 Above the little house bend the long, graceful branches 
 of willow trees, of a lovely light green; and in front of it, 
 on the beach of sand and gravel, the waves are always 
 laughing. 
 
 Those who live in this house wear nothing but snow- 
 white clothing, with yellow stockings and shoes, for 
 they are a great family of ducks that belong to the city. 
 
 One fine morning a baby duck came to the door of 
 one of the upper rooms in the little house. He stood 
 there a while, looking up and down the shore. It seemed 
 too good a day to stay in, so the little duck waddled 
 slowly down the sloping board-walk, dipped his bill into 
 the water to see if it was warm, and then started to 
 swim away. 
 
 He had gone nearly to the end of the island, and was 
 having a happy time, when out from behind a big bush 
 swam an old drake, or grandfather duck, big and strong, 
 and very cross. 
 
Out of one of the lower doors of the house a big gray rat was creeping. 
 
20 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 The little duck was, of course, much frightened. He 
 tried to turn round and swim back; but he- just pounded 
 the water with his feet and beat it with his small wings, 
 without going ahead any. 
 
 The big drake swam right up to him and gave him a 
 hard thump with his bill, which drove his head clear 
 under water, so that he got his mouth full, and almost 
 choked. The big drake followed him and kept rapping 
 him with his bill. Not until he was almost back to the 
 little house did the old drake leave him. Then he went 
 away, quacking crossly. 
 
 The little duck crawled out of the water and lay on 
 his side on the warm sand, trying to get his breath, too 
 tired to move or even to stand. 
 
 Just then he saw something that filled him with 
 terror. Out of one of the lower doors in the house a big 
 gray rat was creeping. His tiny black eyes were shining 
 like beads, and he was logjiing right at the little duck. 
 
 Nearer and nearer the rat crept. The duck tried to 
 get up on his feet. , 
 
 He was so frightened that he cried, "Peep! peep!" 
 as loud as he could. 
 
 It was a small, weak voice, and the only one to hear it 
 was the old drake. He knew that it was a cry for help, 
 and he began to paddle and flutter as fast as he could 
 toward the shore, all the time crying, "Quack! quack!" 
 in such a way that all the other ducks heard it and knew 
 something was wrong. 
 
 The rat had stopped now, as if he did not quite know 
 
THE RUNAWAY DUCK 21 
 
 what to do; and just as the drake reached the shore, he 
 tlirned and started to crawl back under the house. But 
 he was too late. One rap of the old drake's bill sent him 
 over on his back. Before he could get up the drake had 
 hit him another rap, and squealing loudly, the rat ran 
 in under the duck-house, glad to get away. The rat fam- 
 ily had no dinner that night, and the old father rat had 
 to stay in bed for three days. 
 
 As for- the little duck, he was happy enough to have 
 his mother take him by the wing and drag him up the 
 board and into the nest. 
 
The Indian Basket 
 
 ON the top shelf of the what-not in grandmother's 
 old-fashioned room had stood for many years 
 the Indian basket. Grace and Ethel always 
 thought of it in big capital letters, because of the way in 
 which it had come into the family, and the care that 
 grandmother took of it. 
 
 In the old days, when grandfather was a young man, 
 he had crossed the plains to the great West; and one day, 
 when he was riding alone by the banks of a little stream, 
 he had come upon the bones of a child — a little Indian 
 girl, he thought, because of some pieces of what had 
 once been her dress. The bones were white and clean, 
 and on some of them were marks that looked as if they 
 had been made by teeth — probably the teeth of wolves. 
 Near by lay the Indian basket. 
 
 It was beautifully made, of closely woven twigs and 
 grasses, some of which had been colored with bright 
 dyes that made a curious pattern on the finished basket. 
 In shape it was nearly round, and in size about as large 
 as a small cabbage. When grandfather found the basket, 
 there was nothing in it but a few pebbles from the bed 
 of the stream, and two or three pretty shells of fresh- 
 water mussels — just the kind of things that a little girl 
 would like to play with. 
 
 Grandfather took the basket, and brought it home 
 
THE INDIAN BASKET 23 
 
 with him and gave it to grandmother; and many a time 
 Grace and Ethel had heard the story of the little Indian 
 girl, and wondered how she had happened to be alone 
 by the stream, and whether it was really wolves that 
 had got her. 
 
 Of course, grandmother took great care of the basket. 
 She seldom used it; and as for the little girls, they were 
 not allowed to take it at all except when grandmother 
 herself put it into their hands, full of fruit, or flowers, 
 or other dainties for some sick neighbor; and then they 
 were told to carry it carefully and to be sure to bring it 
 back. 
 
 But one day they were left alone; and after playing 
 for a time at one thing or another, they stole into grand- 
 mother's room. In its usual place on the shelf stood the 
 basket. 
 
 "Let's take it out in the garden and pick it full of 
 raspberries," cried Grace. 
 
 "All right," said Ethel. And in a moment they were 
 on their way. 
 
 It took them half an hour to fill the basket. The ripe, 
 juicy berries they poured carefully into a dish, and were 
 just about to put the basket back in its place, when 
 Ethel noticed that the berries had made some red stains 
 on the inside of it; so they took it to the kitchen sink 
 and with a wet cloth wiped the stains out; but the cloth 
 left a few drops of water in the basket, and Ethel turned 
 it upside down to let them run out. 
 
 "Oh, look!" cried AHce. "When it's that way, it i§ 
 
24 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 just like the helmets that soldiers used to wear! The 
 handle is the strap to go under the chin!" She picked 
 up the basket and set it on Ethel's head. 
 
 It sat tippily in its place, rocking from side to side, 
 until, with a sudden push, Alice jammed it down. Then 
 it slipped over Ethel's forehead and ears, until it covered 
 her whole face and rested on her shoulders. 
 
 Both of the little girls began to laugh, and Ethel told 
 how funny everything looked from inside the basket: 
 how it made everything look speckled with spots of 
 light, and dim and shadowy, as it was in the grape- 
 arbor. 
 
 But in a little while they grew tired of the fun, and 
 Ethel found it very warm inside the basket; so she tried 
 to take it off; but it would not come off. Inside the bas- 
 ket were the sharp ends of the hundreds of little twigs, 
 of which it was made, all pointing upward. Whenever 
 she tried" to move the basket, the ends of the twigs 
 caught in her hair and pricked her face. 
 
 "Oh, Alice," she cried, "help me! I can't get it off !" 
 
 So Alice pulled and pushed, too; but more and more 
 the sharp twigs caught and pricked, until Ethel was 
 crying with the pain and Alice from fright; and still the 
 basket would not move. 
 
 But just then there was a sound of wheels in the door- 
 yard and father's loud voice calling, "Whoa!" to old 
 Buster; and in a minute the whole family — father, and 
 mother, and grandmother — came running in to see 
 what was the matter. They found both children crying, 
 
THE INDIAN BASKET 25 
 
 Ethel still with the basket on her head, and Alice danc- 
 ing up and down and shaking her hands in terror, and 
 saying over and over again, "Oh, they'll have to do it! 
 they'll have to do it!" 
 
 In a minute mother's quiet voice had soothed her into 
 a gentle sobbing, and in the meantime father had taken 
 his sharp knife from his pocket and carefully cut a long 
 slit in the basket, and holding the edges of the slit 
 apart, had lifted the basket from Ethel's head. Then 
 he said, "There, there! It's all over. Now, don't cry 
 any more. What was it, Alice, that made you so fright- 
 ened? What was it you thought we should have to do?" 
 
 "Why, I never thought you could cut the basket," 
 answered Alice through her tears. "I thought the only 
 thing you could do would be to cut Ethel's head off." 
 
 The old basket still stands on the shelf, although no 
 longer in grandmother's room, for grandmother is not 
 there now; but there is a long, ugly cut in one side of it. 
 Alice and Ethel are quite grown up, and have gone 
 away, and have little girls of their own; but when they 
 go back to the old home and see the basket, they laugh 
 about the time when, as Alice says, that cut saved 
 Ethel's life. 
 
A Son of the Mountains 
 
 IN front of the two children stood something that 
 was plainly alive, but so clumsy, so young, so help- 
 less that it was hard to tell what it was. From one 
 end of a round ball of yellow-and-white wool looked two 
 lovely brown eyes. From the other end hung a fuzzy 
 tail that was trying to wag only itself, but was really 
 wagging the whole ball. 
 
 "Oh, what is it.'' Is he ours?" they cried together. 
 
 And their father answered, with a smile, "Yes, he is 
 yours. A new playmate who, if you are kind to him, will 
 be a friend as long as he lives; for he comes of a noble 
 family, which for five hundred years has had the love 
 and the respect of the whole world." 
 
 So it was that the St. Bernard puppy came to his new 
 home — a home blessed by two childish hearts that 
 from the first regarded their new friend as little less 
 than human, and, as the years passed, found little 
 reason to change their faith. That night their father 
 told them this story. 
 
 "I said that his family is five hundred years old," he 
 began, "and I told you the truth. Between Italy and 
 Switzerland is a great chain of mountains. Higher and 
 higher they rise, till at last you come to a place where it 
 is winter for nine months of the year; where there is no 
 tree or shrub or blade of grass — only bare rocks and 
 
A SON OF THE MOUNTAINS 27 
 
 snow and ice. For nine months in the year the ice does 
 not melt, and in the winter the snow is often forty or 
 fifty feet deep — ■ higher than the top of our house. 
 
 "Over that road, even in the winter, men go to find 
 work; and sometimes, when the great storms come, they 
 lose their way and lie down in the snow, where, if some- 
 one does not find them, they die of the cold. 
 
 " So it has always been. More than two thousand 
 years ago men found their way over that part of the 
 mountains, and made a road there; and even great 
 armies, in shining breastplates and glittering steel caps, 
 toiled slowly up, some of the men to find their way down 
 the sunny slopes on the other side, and some to lie for- 
 ever beneath the snow on the top. 
 
 "And then; about a thousand years ago, a good monk 
 who, it is said, had been a brave soldier himself, built a 
 great stone house at the highest point of the road, and 
 with other monks went there to live, so that, when the 
 winter storms were fiercest, they might go out to find 
 and help lost travelers buried in the snow. 
 
 " For forty years the good monk did his work, and 
 when he died others took it up, and it has gone on ever 
 since. At first the monks worked alone; but by and by, 
 nearly five hundred years ago now, they got some dogs 
 and trained them to help. Because the dogs had so keen 
 a sense of smell, they were able to find lost travelers 
 that the monks might have missed. Every year they 
 saved some lives; and so, ever since then there have been 
 dogs at the Great St. Bernard Pass, always of the same 
 
28 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 kind, and all of them descended from those that the 
 monks first took there. The puppy that I have brought 
 you is one of that great family. 
 
 "The best-known member of the family was a won- 
 derful dog named Barry. There is a monument to him 
 near the place where he did his work, and where he died. 
 It may seem strange to you to hear me speak of a dog's 
 work, but Barry did more to make him beloved than 
 most men, for he saved the lives of thirty-nine persons; 
 and, indeed, he died in trying to save another. A young 
 officer had lost his way in a great storm, and had been 
 covered by the show. He was beginning to feel the 
 drowsiness that creeps upon people who are freezing to 
 death, when something began to paw the snow from 
 about him, and a great hairy beast began to lick his 
 face. He could think of nothing but a wolf, and in his 
 fright he drew his sword and drove it into Barry's heart. 
 So died the most farhous of all the St. Bernards. 
 
 "But there is another story that the monks tell, less 
 sad but not less strange. One night, at a time when 
 there was not much travel over the pass, there came a 
 knock on the door of the great stone house. The monk 
 who went to the door found a group of rough-looking, 
 ragged men who said they were cold and hungry. When 
 they had been warmed and fed, and the monks were 
 about to show them where they were to sleep, the 
 strangers suddenly drew pistols and long knives and 
 commanded that the treasure-chest be brought to them. 
 The head of the household, thinking that if he did not 
 
A SON OF THE MOUNTAINS 29 
 
 obey all might be killed, sent one of the brothers to 
 fetch it. 
 
 " In a little while he came back — but not alone, for 
 with him were the dogs. At a word of command they 
 leaped upon the robbers and bore them to the ground. 
 Not one of them tried to tear a man, but the moment a 
 robber made a motion to get up he found the great white 
 teeth bared in his face; and so they had to lie still. 
 
 "The monks bound the men and locked them in a 
 cell, where they kept them safe till they were able to 
 give them over to the law. 
 
 "S9 you see your new playmate is the youngest of a 
 very great family of dog noblemen. Treat him as his 
 rank deserves." 
 
The Family Garden 
 
 WHEN the Monks family moved from the city to 
 the country they were delighted to find that 
 there was land enough round their new house 
 to make a fine garden. That was what they had always 
 wanted. 
 
 "We must hire a gardener," said Father Monks, "a 
 man who knows how to make a garden, so that we can 
 have something to be proud of." 
 
 " Oh, no, my dear," said Mother Monks ; " that would 
 only be a garden that the gardener might be proud of. 
 I think it would be much better to make a garden all 
 by ourselves. There are so many of us that, if each one 
 helps, I am sure we can make a beautiful garden; and 
 when it has grown and people see it, they will think, not 
 of a hired gardener, but of us." 
 
 "Very well," said Father Monks, "we will do it that 
 way, if you wish. You shall begin. Then Arabella and 
 Violet and Viola shall add what they please, and after 
 that John and Joseph and Peter and Samuel and Pansy 
 may help; and when all the rest of you have done what 
 you wish, I will add the finishing touches." 
 
 "Goody!" cried all the family together; and they 
 went to bed happy about what they were going to do. 
 
 Mother Monks began her part of the work the very 
 next morning. First of all, she looked the ground over 
 
THE FAMILY GARDEN 31 
 
 carefully, and saw that, although there was a high hill 
 on the other side of the road, their own land was quite 
 flat. "I do not want anything fussy," she said to her- 
 
 Oself. "The simplest thing is always the best. 
 I will make just one large round bed." So, with 
 two stakes and the clothes-line, she drew a cir- 
 cle in the, back of the yard, and the boys helped her to 
 spade it up and rake it over; and by night they had a 
 beautiful, smooth flower-bed that looked like this. 
 
 It was Arabella's turn next, and she, too, looked 
 the ground over carefully before she began. 
 But it seemed to her that her mother's plan was 
 a good one, and as she could think of nothing 
 better and there was still plenty of land to use, 
 she, too, made a big round flower-bed, only hers 
 was in the front; and when they had spaded it up and 
 raked it smooth, the whole garden looked like this. 
 
 "You have made a flne beginning," said Father 
 Monks, when he came home. "I am sure that if all of 
 us do our part, we shall have such a garden as no one in 
 this town ever saw before." And all the other members 
 of the Monks family thought so, too. 
 
 Viola and Violet, the twins, could hardly wait to eat 
 their breakfast the next morning before they began. 
 They thought of many different things to do, but none 
 of them seemed just right, until Viola had a happy 
 thought. "Mother has a round bed, and Arabella has a 
 round bed, too. Let us keep to the same idea. Since we 
 are twins, we can both make round beds of the same 
 size, and just alike." 
 
32 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 So they did; and because when they were little they 
 had slept in their mother's bed, they made their flower- 
 beds inside the big circle that their mother had 
 laid out; and when they were done, the garden 
 was so-fashion. 
 
 Now John and Joseph, the other twins, had 
 promised to help make the garden; but they 
 were lazier than their sisters, and when they went to 
 work the sun was hot, and they wanted to get over to the 
 brook to see whether it was warm enough to go in swim- 
 ming; and so, instead of making round beds of their own, 
 they set out a few plants in their sister's beds, in 
 a space that was only about a quarter of a circle. 
 Then they ran away to the brook; so that night 
 the garden looked this way. 
 
 When it came Peter's turn to help, he wanted 
 to do something different, but everything that he tried 
 looked wrong. He made plans, and as quickly gave them 
 up. The others had made circles or parts of circles; and 
 at last, all he could think of was to set out two big plants 
 in Arabella's bed, and in front of them a row of 
 other plants in a long, curved line, so that when 
 Father Monks came home he saw something 
 like this. 
 
 Now Samuel Monks, unlike his two brothers, 
 John and Joseph, was not lazy. He liked to dig, and did 
 not care how hard he worked; so you can be sure that, 
 when he began to make his part of the garden, it was 
 bound to be good. Since all the others had made flower- 
 
THE FAMILY GARDEN 
 
 33 
 
 beds, he decided that for his part he would put a border 
 round them. It was hard work, and long before he was 
 done, his little back ached and there were 
 blisters on his hands; but he felt well paid 
 when his father came out and patted him on 
 the back, and said, "Well done, my boy!" 
 for the garden had grown to be like this 
 
 It was now the turn of Pansy, the youngest of the 
 family. Since she was not very strong, nobody thought 
 that she could do much; but they all let her alone, be- 
 cause this was to be a real family garden, in which each 
 one not only was to have a part, but was to do just 
 what he or she wished to do. 
 
 When Pansy had walked round the garden five or 
 six times, she had a happy thought. She saw that out- 
 side the border that Samuel had made, there was still 
 room for two more beds; and since her mother and her 
 sisters had made round beds, she thought that she would 
 show them that, although she was still 
 only a little girl, she would some day be 
 a woman like them; and so, after some 
 thought and much measuring, she made 
 two round beds just like theirs, one on 
 each side of the border. And this is how the garden 
 looked when she had finished. 
 
 " It is fine, and I am proud of my family," said Father 
 Monks, as he walked round the garden that night; "but 
 there is one thing you have forgotten. You have all 
 made flower-beds or set out flowers. None of you have 
 
34 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 thought of the good things to eat that we might raise. 
 It is for me to add the finishing touches." 
 
 Very proudly he went to work to fill all the side 
 spaces between Ma Monks's flower-bed and Arabella's 
 with tomato plants. 
 
 When the last one was in the ground, Pa Monks stood 
 up straight and rubbed his back, and said, "Now, my 
 dears, the garden is done, and it is our garden. Each of 
 us has helped to make it, and altogether it stands for 
 the whole family, which a real garden should always do. 
 And now, since it is a warm evening, let us all go up on 
 the hill across the road and have our sup- 
 per outdoors." 
 
 "Oh, good!" they all cried together. 
 But when they were seated under the 
 trees on the hill they happened to look 
 across the road, to their own house, and the garden that 
 they had made, and that now lay beneath them. This is 
 what they saw. 
 
 "Why, Simeon," said Mrs. Monks, "we, have done 
 just what I wanted to do! We have made a garden 
 that is really ours; it is a garden that is like us, and 
 stands for the whole family." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Monks, laughing, "it looks just like 
 us. What more could we wish?" 
 
An Interrupted Vacation 
 
 THE summer of Arthur's eighth birthday his elder 
 brother Henry and some of his friends were to 
 spend in a camp in the mountains; and the more 
 Arthur heard about it, the more he wanted to go. 
 
 When he first spoke about it, his mother said he was 
 too young; but his father, after thinking it over for a 
 day or two, told him, to his great joy, that he could go 
 and stay one week. 
 
 He was to start on a Monday; but on that morning 
 word came that Uncle Joseph was sick, and his father 
 and mother decided that they must go to him by the 
 first train. 
 
 It seemed as if Arthur would have to give up his trip, 
 for the house must be locked, and there were other 
 things to be done which it seemed hardly safe to intrust 
 to a boy only eight years old. 
 
 "Still," said Mr. Hartwell, "I suppose he must learn 
 some time. Perhaps he may as well begin now." 
 
 So after telling Arthur just how to close the house, his 
 father and mother started on their journey, and he was 
 left alone. 
 
 He was up very early the next morning, and after he 
 had eaten the breakfast that had been laid out for him, 
 he locked and bolted the back door, closed all the blinds 
 on the south side of the house, made sure that he had 
 
36 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 his tickets in his .pocket, and carried his bundle out on 
 the verandah. He was just going to lock the front door 
 when, suddenly, Peter caihe running through the hall. 
 
 Now Peter is the cat — Arthur's special pet and 
 friend. No one had thought of him — how he was to get 
 in and out, or what he was to eat and drink while the 
 family was away. 
 
 Arthur had to think quickly, for it was nearly time 
 for his train to leave. He decided that the best plan 
 would be to leave the back-chamber window open, and 
 put food and drink on the kitchen floor. Peter often got 
 into the house by climbing the grape-trellis and leap- 
 ing in at the second-story window. It would be safer 
 to leave that open than to leave open a window in the 
 cellar or on the first floor, where someone might see it. 
 
 Arthur opened the chamber window and put a basin 
 of water on the kitchen floor and a saucer of milk beside 
 it. Then he ran over to the butcher's and got ten cents' 
 worth of fresh meat, and left it with the milk and the 
 water. Also he soaked a dozen crackers and left them in 
 another dish. That, he thought, would last Peter a week, 
 even if he caught no mice. 
 
 As Arthur opened the outside door to go to the sta- 
 tion, he was startled by a loud bang! which sounded 
 almost like a gun. It made him jump, but when he saw 
 that it was only a chamber door that the wind had 
 slammed, he laughed, and went out and locked the front 
 door after him. 
 
 The first two days in camp were full of happiness. 
 
AN INTERRUPTED VACATION 37 
 
 How good everything tasted, and how pleasant it was 
 to sleep on a sweet-smelling bed of hemlock boughs! 
 And what fish there were to be caught! It was not until 
 the second evening that Arthur even thought of Peter. 
 Then the cracker he was eating made him wonder how 
 his little four-footed friend was getting on. 
 
 Suddenly he remembered the bang of that door. Oh, 
 why had he not thought of it before ! It must have been 
 the back-chamber door which had closed, and that was 
 the room which Peter would have to enter. With the 
 door closed, he could not get downstairs, could not get 
 at his food, could not get anything to drink. Even now 
 he must have been two days without a mouthful. 
 
 Arthur knew that he had not money enough to go 
 back and return to camp again. If he went home, he 
 would have to stay there. All his fun would be cut short. 
 But it seemed as if all the time he could see poor Peter, 
 looking thin and hungry, and could hear him calling. 
 
 By morning he made up his mind. Sadly he packed 
 his things, and the first train carried him back to town. 
 He grew anxious to get back. 
 
 Just as he was putting the key in the lock of the front 
 door he heard a loud "Miau!" and Peter, thin and wild- 
 eyed, came running round the house. As soon as the 
 door was open, he dashed in, tore through the hall to the 
 kitchen, and seized a piece of meat. He was so hungry 
 that he even growled a little when Arthur tried to pet 
 him. 
 
 The rest of that week was a hard time for Arthur, 
 
Put Peter would come and rub lovingly against him and purr 
 like a, little spinning-wheel, 
 
AN INTERRUPTED VACATION 39 
 
 His parents were still away, and he was obliged to stay 
 with a neighbor. But Peter would come and push his 
 head under Arthur's arm, and rub lovingly against him, 
 and purr like a little spinning-wheel; and in the feeling 
 that he had saved his little friend from suffering, Arthur 
 found his comfort. 
 
Phcebe Ann's Christmas Tree 
 
 ON a point of land that stretches far out into the 
 sea and ends in a great rock, there stands a tall 
 white lighthouse. At the foot of the lighthouse, 
 and cuddled close up to it, as if to keep warm in the 
 cold winds that roar in from the ocean, is a white house, 
 built very strong of great stones, and some other little 
 buildings in which are kept a boat and barrels of oil and 
 other things needed by the lighthouse-keeper and his 
 family. 
 
 The great rock is high and bare. Not a tree, or even 
 a blade of grass, grows upon it, but all round is the sea; 
 and sometimes, in the winter storms, the great waves 
 dash against it till the spray reaches almost to the 
 light. The waves seem like a pack of white wolves climb- 
 ing up and up, to tear the keeper from his little room. 
 
 It is only at certain times that one can get from the 
 lighthouse to the mainland. When the keeper has a man 
 with him to help him launch the boat, he can row across 
 the bay; but at other times the only way is to walk 
 across the narrow neck of land that connects the point 
 with the mainland, and is covered with water except 
 when the tide is very low and the sea is perfectly quiet. 
 Sometimes there are weeks when no one can reach the 
 shore. 
 
 For a long time the keeper's little daughter, Phoebe 
 
It blew so hard that the water swept clear across the point, and it 
 looked as if Santa Claus could not get out to the lighthouse. 
 
42 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Ann, had been looking forward to Christmas, and count- 
 ing the days. There were so many things that she 
 wanted that she had not dared to tell Santa Claus of 
 all of them, but she had finally made up her mind about 
 those that she wanted most, and had written Santa 
 Claus two letters about them. She had left the letters 
 on the mantelpiece when she went to bed, and in the 
 morning they were gone. So he must have got them. 
 Phoebe Ann had had no answer, and was a little afraid 
 something had gone wrong; but her father told her that 
 Santa Claus was always so busy, especially just before 
 Christmas, that he seldom had time to answer letters. 
 He thought the old gentleman would come on time if 
 the weather was not too bad. 
 
 But the weather was bad all Christmas week, — so 
 bad that Phoebe Ann's father could not get over to the 
 mainland, — and the day before Christmas was the 
 worst of all. It blew so hard that' the water swept clear 
 across the point, even at low tide, and it looked as if 
 Santa Claus could not get out to the lighthouse. 
 
 Early in the morning the keeper and his family had 
 seen a great ship coming up the coast. It was plain that 
 she was having a hard time in the high seas and strong 
 head wind, and so they were not surprised when, about 
 noon, she came to anchor a little way out, in the shelter 
 of the point. But they were very much surprised a little 
 later to see a boat with six or seven men in it put off 
 from the ship and start in toward the light. They 
 watched it as it tossed on the waves like a cork, then 
 
PHCEBE ANN'S CHRISTMAS TREE 43 
 
 dropped down again out of sight, till they thought it 
 was lost; but all the time it kept coming nearer, until 
 at last the keeper ran down to the landing, and helped 
 the men pull the boat up. 
 
 They had come for help. The ship was just home 
 from China and the East Indies. The captain had been 
 taken sick, and was very weak and low, and the officer 
 in charge of the boat had come to see if he could get some 
 fresh, nourishing food for him. 
 
 While the lighthouse-keeper and the officer went up 
 to the house, Phoebe Ann stayed down by the boat and 
 talked with the sailors. She told them about the letters 
 she had written to Santa Claus, and how much afraid 
 she was that he could not get to the lighthouse now. 
 But the sailors cheered her up. They said that perhaps, 
 instead of coming with his team of reindeer, he would 
 put on his diving-suit and swim out. They said he had 
 web-feet and could swim like a fish, anyway; and even 
 if he did not get there just on time, he would probably 
 send the things later, and she must not mind a little 
 waiting. 
 
 Phoebe Ann stayed by the boat until her father and 
 the officer came back, carrying two live chickens and a 
 basket of eggs and some vegetables. Then the boat 
 rowed back to the ship, and Phoebe Ann went into the 
 house to help her mother. There was a good deal to do 
 that day in getting ready for the Christmas dinner, so 
 Phoebe Ann did not know that the boat came back 
 again and left a big box on the landing, which her father 
 
44 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 covered with an old sail and brought up to the house 
 that evening, after dark. She went to bed early, rather 
 sad, because she was sure now that Santa Claus could 
 not come. 
 
 But oh, the next morning! Phoebe Ann jumped out 
 of bed and rushed into the dining-room, where she had 
 hung her stocking by the chimney. The stocking was 
 gone, but there were two stockings, both very fat and 
 bunchy, hanging on the funniest little Christmas tree, 
 which stood in a great green pot. It was not like a com- 
 mon Christmas tree, but had big, thick, rubbery green 
 leaves. 
 
 From branch to branch stretched strings of pop-corn, 
 and here and there were little sparks of fire, from sticks 
 that burned only at the end, and sent up a delicious, 
 sweet smell. On one limb was a little gray goose that 
 danced up and down and flapped its wings gently. On 
 another was a brown monkey, hanging by one hand and 
 holding a little dish in the other. At the foot of the tree 
 was a pile of funny nuts, all hubbly on the outside, but 
 very sweet and chewy inside. There were two beautiful 
 fans, and three funny Japanese dolls, with slanting black 
 eyes and a queer little topknot of hair; and there were 
 beautiful things to make dresses for the dolls. Last of 
 all, and most astonishing, was a letter from Santa Claus 
 himself, saying that he just happened to be coming up 
 the coast on the China ship, and had stopped to leave 
 the things before he went ashore. 
 
 "Just to think, papa," said Phoebe Ann, at dinner, 
 
PHCEBE ANN'S CHRISTMAS TREE 45 
 
 "how wonderful it is that Santa Claus should come just 
 in time, on that ship!" 
 
 "Yes," said her father, "Santa Claus is one of the 
 most wonderful things in the world." 
 
The Little Water People 
 
 UNCLE ZEB was sitting by the kitchen fire, with 
 Jessie on one knee and Tom on the other. 
 There was a roaring fire in the stove, and by 
 and by the big teakettle began to sing. 
 
 At first it was a soft, low humming, then it rose to a 
 sweet little song that sounded like someone whistling 
 away off in the distance; and it kept getting louder and 
 louder, as if the whistler were coming nearer; and then 
 it was almost like a scream, and the cover of the kettle 
 began to bob up and down. 
 
 It was such a funny noise that Tom and Jessie both 
 laughed. 
 
 "What makes the kettle sing that way.? Why does 
 it make that noise .f"' asked Jessie. 
 
 "That," said Uncle Zeb, "is the Little Water People 
 asking to be let out." 
 
 "The Little Water People!" cried both the children 
 together. "Who are they? Do they live in the teakettle.? 
 We never heard of them before." 
 
 "Well," said Uncle Zeb, "I can't tell you what they 
 look like, because nobody has ever seen them; but we 
 know they are there because we see what they do. 
 
 " They are very funny Little People — so small that 
 hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of them can live 
 in a teaspoonful of water and have plenty of room." 
 
THE LITTLE WATER PEOPLE 47 
 
 "Do they always live in the water?" asked Jessie. 
 
 "Yes, always in the water. When it is cold, they 
 keep perfectly still. They never sing or talk or shout 
 then. But when the water begins to get hot, then the 
 Little People rush round every way, trying to get out. 
 
 "If they find they are shut in, they begin to sing a 
 little song, all together, in a tiny, piping voice: 'Oh, 
 please let us out! It's very warm in here. Please let us 
 out!' That song is pretty to hear, because all the 
 people are polite, and say please. 
 
 " But in a little while, if you don 't do anything, they 
 begin to shout in a louder voice: 'Let us out! Let us 
 out! Let us out! Let us out!' And then the Little 
 People begin to scream and climb up on each other's 
 shoulders, and jump over one another to get out. 
 
 "A few of them squeeze through under the lid of the 
 teakettle, and others come through the spout; but they 
 can't get out fast enough that way. They are like the 
 boys over at Tommy's school, when they all try to get 
 through the door at the same time." 
 
 "But what if you don't let them out.? What do they 
 do then.?" 
 
 "Well, they all bend their heads down, and get their 
 backs and shoulders against the under side of the cover, 
 and press hard with their hands; and then they give a 
 great shout and push all together, and lift the lid a little 
 way. And every time they do that a lot of them get out." 
 
 "They are doing it now!'' cried Jessie, eagerly, as the 
 kettle cover bobbed up and down. 
 
48 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 "Are they good or bad people?" asked Tommy. 
 
 "They are good," his uncle answered, " so long as they 
 are shut up in strong iron prison-houses, where they 
 cannot get out; then they will work hard day and night. 
 They are so strong when they work together, that they 
 can do more than a thousand men. It is these Little 
 People. of the Water who pull all the big trains of cars 
 and push all the steamboats." 
 
 "I wish I could see them or catch some of them," 
 said Tommy. And before Uncle Zeb could stop him, he 
 had stretched his hand out to the teakettle cover. He 
 drew it back very quickly. 
 
 "Yes," said Uncle Zeb, "they are good, so long as 
 they are shut up; but when we get in their way they 
 bite." 
 
Curing Rosa May 
 
 ON the morning when Bessie Norton was six 
 years old, she came down to breakfast to find 
 a long box all tied up in pink paper, with a 
 string that was like a little gold chain. The box stood 
 on the table by Be'ssie's plate, and there was a card on 
 it, with some writing. Bessie could read print, if the 
 words were not too long, but she had not yet learned to 
 read writing; so she ran to her mother with Jthe card and 
 asked her to read it. 
 
 "It says, 'For Bessie, with best wishes for many 
 happy birthdays,'" said mother; and then she helped 
 to untie the gold string and take off the pink paper. 
 
 When at last the box was open, there appeared the 
 most beautiful paper doll that Bessie had ever seen. 
 It had lovely golden hair, curling in little ringlets all 
 over its head, and its eyes were large and blue, and its 
 cheeks like blush roses, and with it were all kinds of 
 beautiful dresses. There was a light pink one for parties, 
 with a hat to match, and a plain dark-blue sailor suit 
 for everyday wear, and two dainty white ones to dress 
 up in in the afternoon. Each one had a hat to go with 
 it, and there were also lots of dainty lace underclothes, 
 and two hand-bags and a parasol. 
 
 Bessie was so happy that she could hardly wait to eat 
 her breakfast. As soon as it was over she took the beau- 
 
so UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 tiful doll, and went with her to the house of her play- 
 mate, Nellie Baker, who lived next door. All that day 
 the two played together with Rosa May under the trees; 
 and in the afternoon they gave a party, because, you see, 
 it was Rosa May's birthday just as much as it was 
 Bessie's. 
 
 Many other days they played together, too, and Rosa 
 May always had the best of care, and was taken into 
 the house and put to bed at the right hour. But at last 
 there came a day when a band came marching by, play- 
 ing beautifully, while Bessie was dressing Rosa May. 
 She ran out to the fence, and then followed a little 
 way down the street, and when she came back her 
 mother called her in to supper, and poor Rosa May was 
 forgotten. 
 
 It rained hard all that night, but of course Bessie did 
 not know it, for she was asleep. But the next morning 
 she looked everywhere for Rosa May, and could not find 
 her. At last she went out under the trees, and there she 
 found the poor doll, where she had lain all night in the 
 rain. 
 
 It was a sad, sad sight. One blue eye was all washed 
 out, and the other was nearly gone. Her right arm was 
 doubled back and broken, both legs were all twisted, so 
 Rosa May could never stand up straight again, and in 
 place of the pretty rosy lips there was only a great ugly 
 red mark. 
 
 Bessie sat down beside her dear Rosa May and began 
 to cry. Of course she could not help it. No little girl 
 
CURING ROSA MAY 51 
 
 could. She cried so hard that she did not hear the sound 
 of footsteps coming nearer, and did not know there was 
 anyone about until a pleasant voice said, "My! my! 
 little girl, what is the trouble?" The voice came from 
 a pleasant-faced young man, who had a little box, like a 
 trunk, in one hand, and a big light-colored umbrella and 
 a bundle of sticks under his arm. 
 
 Bessie showed him her poor Rosa May, through her 
 tears. 
 
 He took the doll tenderly in his hands, and said, 
 "Well, well, she has met with a very bad accident, I 
 see, but I think perhaps I can cure her." 
 
 "Oh, can you?" cried Bessie. "Are you a doctor?" 
 
 The young man laughed. "Yes," he said, "I think I 
 can cure this patient if you will let me operate just as I 
 think best." 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir!" cried Bessie. "You can, if you will 
 only cure Rosa May!" 
 
 The young man took out a little pair of scissors, and 
 then opened his box and found some smooth, stiff white 
 cardboard. Then he took poor Rosa May and cut her 
 head right off! Bessie almost cried right out at that; 
 but the young man was smiling so pleasantly that she 
 did not. He took the cardboard and cut out a new 
 head, just like the old one, and then with a little glue 
 from his box he fastened it on to Rosa May's body, so 
 that you could hardly see the place. Next there came 
 out of the wonderful box a bundle of little tubes of 
 paint, some of which he mixed in a small china pan; 
 
In a few minutes the new face had two big blue eyes and a 
 rosebud mouth and curly, golden hair and a pair of pink 
 cheeks. 
 
CURING ROSA MAY 53 
 
 and in a few minutes the new face had two big blue eyes 
 and a rosebud mouth and curly, golden hair and a pair 
 of pink cheeks — just as Rosa May had had at first. 
 
 By this time Bessie was so happy that she was danc- 
 ing up and down; and when the young man cut off one 
 arm and both legs of Rosa May, she did not mind at all, 
 because she knew he would make new ones as good as 
 the others had been at first. And he did, so that no one 
 would ever have known that Rosa May had ever had 
 any accident or been sick. 
 
 Bessie thanked him over and over again. She asked 
 him if he was going to doctor someone else, and he 
 laughed and said no, he was going to paint a picture. 
 As he turned away he said, "You must be careful not to 
 leave Rosa May out at night again, for young children 
 like her take cold, and sometimes you can *t get a doctor 
 who knows how to cure them." 
 
On Salt-Water Ice 
 
 BILLY PENFIELD stood on the doorstep of his 
 house, and looked at the frozen river. In his hand 
 he held a note that his mother had told him to 
 take to Mrs. Miller, who lived two miles down the road. 
 His mother had expected him to walk, but as Billy 
 looked at the river he began to think of his skates. 
 With them he could go and come much quicker. So, 
 going quietly back into the house, he got his skates, and 
 slipped as quietly out again, and went down the bank 
 to the river. 
 
 Now, Billy knew as well as anyone that the river at 
 Weldon is salt, and for several miles above the town, 
 too. He knew that salt water does not freeze so quickly 
 as fresh water. In fact, it was not often that anyone 
 tried to skate between Weldon and Bramfield, for it was 
 not regarded as safe. But this year it had been different. 
 The cold weather had made ice that seemed very hard 
 and thick, and for several days Billy had seen skaters 
 passing up and down in front of his house. So he made 
 up his mind to try it. 
 
 For a little while everything went well — so well that 
 Billy did not notice how warm the day was. Instead of 
 being sharp, like the week that had gone before, it was 
 milder, and there was a misty softness in the air. The 
 skate-tracks were easy to follow, and Billy kept along 
 
ON SALT-WATER ICE 55 
 
 where other skaters had passed, although it took him 
 nearer to the middle of the stream than he had meant 
 to go. 
 
 He had skated about half a mile when suddenly, with- 
 out any warning, his right foot broke through the ice 
 far enough to wet his ankle. He was going fast, and 
 as the ice under his left foot held firm, he was neither 
 stopped nor thrown down. 
 
 But the mishap frightened him. He did not know 
 that salt-water ice gives no warning, no sound of crack- 
 ing before it breaks, but merely drops away under your 
 feet. If he had known that, he would have been more 
 frightened. 
 
 As quickly as he could, he turned in toward the bank, 
 but still went on up-river. He had taken hardly a 
 dozen strokes when there came again that terrible feel- 
 ing of standing on nothing. He felt himself going, and 
 this time both feet went in. What he did then he must 
 have done in the least little part of a second — so 
 quickly that it did not seem to him that he thought to 
 do it at all, but only did it; and it was the only thing 
 that could have saved his life. As he felt himself drop- 
 ping through, he bent the upper part of his body for- 
 ward, like a half-opened jack-knife, so that he found 
 himself up to his waist in the icy water, but with all of 
 his body above the waist lying flat on the edge of the 
 ice, and his arms spread out as far as he could reach. 
 
 Tor a moment he lay there panting with fear, and 
 then, very slowly and very carefully, he began to draw 
 
56 UNCLE. ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 himself out, but with no quick motions, and without 
 moving his hands an inch nearer the edge of the hole. 
 
 When at last he found himself once more out on the 
 ice, he did the very best thing that he could have done: 
 he lay still, face down, without trying to get up, and 
 with his arms still spread out. Then, lifting one foot 
 after the other enough to dig the toes of his skates into 
 the ice, he began to kick himself along toward the shore. 
 
 It was slow work, and it hurt his knees and made his 
 toes ache, and he was shivering with the cold; but never 
 once did he try to stand up or to draw his arms in 
 toward his body, till his head bumped against the rough 
 cakes of ice that the tides had piled along the bank. 
 Then, at last, he knew that he was safe, and he stood up. 
 
 Over the rough ice he climbed as quickly as he could, 
 and with fingers numb with cold, took off his skates. 
 He left them where they lay, and started on the run for 
 Mrs. Miller's. There, in front of a great blaze in the 
 fireplace, he was soon warm and dry enough to go home. 
 
The Little Path 
 
 ONE morning, a few weeks after Mr. Milliken had 
 moved his family to the farm he had bought 
 for a summer home, he was walking slowly up 
 to the house from the front gate when he saw for the 
 first time a funny little path. 
 
 Instead of running along beside the driveway, it ran 
 right across it, and then up across the lawn; and as 
 Mr. Milliken looked at it he wondered why anyone 
 should want to go back and forth there so often as to 
 make a path through the grass. 
 
 When he reached the house, he spoke to Harold and 
 Jessie about it. "You must n't get into the habit of go- 
 ing back and forth across the lawn that way, my dears," 
 he said. "It wears away the grass and does n't look well." 
 
 "Why, papa," cried Jessie, "we have n't been across 
 the lawn at all in any one place!" 
 
 And Harold, too, said, "We have n't, papa, really." 
 
 Mr. Milliken thought that was strange, but he said no 
 more until a few days later, when he happened to pass 
 that way again and noticed that the little path showed 
 more plainly than before. It looked deeper and was 
 worn smoother. So he said again, " Children, are you 
 sure you are not making that path across the lawn? 
 Is n't there some game that you play there that you 
 may have forgotten about?" 
 
S8 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 No, they were sure they had not played there at all, 
 and they knew nothing about the little path. But after 
 their father had spoken to them the second time, they 
 went out to see what he meant. 
 
 They found a curious little track, or trail, about as 
 wide as Harold's two hands, running right up across 
 the lawn and disappearing in the orchard beyond. 
 They could follow it easily until they got up among the 
 apple trees, but there they lost it. 
 
 "Let's see if there is another end to it," said Jessie. 
 So they followed the path back until they reached the 
 driveway. Here, of course, the hard gravel showed no 
 signs except the marks of the wheels, but Harold sud- 
 denly gave a little shout of delight, and pointed to the 
 bank on the other side of the driveway. There the little 
 path began again, and showed even more plainly. It 
 went right up over one side of the bank and down the 
 other, and the children, following it, found that it led 
 down to the edge of the brook and ended there. 
 
 The more they thought about it the stranger it 
 seemed. What could have made the path, and what 
 could be using it now? For it was easy to see that 
 whatever had made it was still passing back and forth 
 over it every day. 
 
 They talked it over with their father and mother, 
 but neither could give them any help. Then they went 
 out to the stable and told Eben, the hired man, about it. 
 When he had finished oiling the harness, he went with 
 the children and looked the little path over carefully. 
 
THE LITTLE PATH 59 
 
 Then he said, quite seriously, "I think I know the fel- 
 low that made this path — or rather the fellows, for 
 there must be several of them. How would you like to 
 watch for them to-night?" 
 
 " Oh, lovely ! " cried the children ; and they could hardly 
 wait until darkness fell and Eben was ready to take them 
 out. 
 
 Before they started Eben made them promise to keep 
 perfectly still while they watched, and neither to move 
 nor to speak so much as a single word, even in a whisper. 
 Then he took down the big lantern with a reflector, 
 which was always placed by the stable-door, to light the 
 driveway. He placed it in a large wooden box, over 
 which he threw a blanket, and wrapped Jessie and Har- 
 old in two other blankets; then they all went out and 
 lay down in the edge of the orchard, some distance from 
 the little path, and prepared for a long wait. 
 
 It was very dark and very still. The katydids in the 
 maples overhead kept answering back and forth, and 
 now and then a frog croaked by the brook; but for the 
 most part it was so quiet that Harold could hear his 
 own heart beat. 
 
 Suddenly, when it seemed as if they had been there 
 for hours, Jessie thought she saw a shadow slipping along 
 the little path. She watched it closely and was sure it 
 was something alive and moving. It would go along a 
 little way and then stop, and then go a little farther 
 and stop again. 
 
 Then Eben pinched her arm gently and touched 
 
6o UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Harold on the shoulder, .and both children could see him 
 point at the moving shadow; but they remembered their 
 promise not to move or speak, and kept perfectly still. 
 They watched and seemed scarcely to breathe. 
 
 Not until the shadow had disappeared in the deeper 
 shade of the orchard trees did Eben make any move. 
 Then all at once he drew the blanket from the front of 
 the box, and a wide space under the early sweet-apple 
 tree was lighted by the rays of the big lantern with its 
 brilliant reflector. And in that space, sitting up like a 
 little educated dog, or a squirrel, sat a big gray musk- 
 rat, holding a yellow apple in his forepaws, and gnawing 
 at it. 
 
 The light of the lantern came so suddenly and was 
 so bright, that for a moment the muskrat was dazed 
 and too much surprised to move; but then, dropping his 
 apple as if he had suddenly decided that he did not like 
 apples, anyway, he made a dash down the little path, 
 and plop ! they heard him go head first into the brook. 
 
 "That is the fellow that made the path — he and his 
 family," said Eben. "I thought so. Muskrats are very 
 fond of sweet apples." 
 
How Christmas Came at Midsummer 
 
 IN the big, clean room, with its two rows of iron beds, 
 the little boy had been lying a long, long time. At 
 first he had tried to count the days, but somewhere 
 in the second week he had lost the count, and had never 
 found it again. All he could remember was that there 
 had been snow on the ground when they had picked him 
 up and carried him into the big white room. He knew 
 that the snow must be gone now, for when the nurse 
 raised him and put the two pillows under his head, he 
 could look out into the yard and see the tops of trees, 
 and the leaves on them were thick and green; and all day 
 long, whether he was lying down or sitting up, he could 
 hear birds singing. And besides, it had grown so hot! 
 
 When he could not sleep for the heat, the nurse would 
 come and lay a cool hand on his forehead; and if that 
 did not help him, she would say, "Well, I guess we shall 
 have to get the bee." Then in a little while she would 
 come in with something that looked like a big cage with 
 a great black-and-yellow bee in it; and when she had 
 set it on the table, she would put her finger to it and the 
 bee would begin to fly round and round the cage with a 
 low, soft humming. Then the air would grow cooler. 
 A gentle breeze would begin to blow, and the little boy 
 would find it easier to lie still; and by and by his eyes 
 would close, and almost before he knew it he would be 
 
62 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 asleep. But when he woke, the bee was always gone 
 and the air was hot again. 
 
 Every morning the big doctor came to talk with him 
 a little while, and every afternoon the other doctor 
 came. But one day the big doctor came a second time 
 just before dark, and brought two strange doctors with 
 him. They sat a long time by the bed, and watched the 
 little boy and held his hands and listened at his breast, 
 as if they had thought there was something inside him 
 that could speak. Then they began to talk together, 
 and before they had finished talking the little boy's 
 father and mother came in. 
 
 It seemed to the little boy that something must be 
 troubling them, for they did not smile at him as usual; 
 but instead, his mother came over and knelt by the cot 
 and put her arms round him and said, "Dearest, what 
 can we do to make you well again.'' Is there anything 
 that you want that we can get for you? Tell mother 
 what it is." 
 
 The little boy looked at her with the big, deep eyes 
 that seemed always to be wishing for something, and 
 said, "I want Christmas. Can't you make it Christmas 
 for me now, mamma.'"' 
 
 "Christmas? Why, dearest, what a strange wish! 
 Christmas does not come in midsummer, but only when 
 it is cold and there is snow on the ground. Mother can- 
 not make Christmas come now, dear. You must be a 
 good boy and wait." 
 
 " But I have been a good boy and I have waited — so 
 
CHRISTMAS AT MIDSUMMER 63 
 
 long! — and it has n't come. It seems as if I could n't 
 wait any more." And then, as the little boy looked at 
 his mother, he saw that she was crying, and wondered 
 why. 
 
 The big doctor went over and laid his hand on her 
 shoulder. "Perhaps the little boy is right," he said 
 gently. "He felt that he could not wait, and has put his 
 case into other hands than ours — into better hands; 
 and he shall have his wish." Then, turning to the little 
 boy himself, he said, "Your mother did not know that I 
 can make Christmas come whenever I please, but I can, 
 for Santa Claus is an old, old friend of mine. Whenever 
 I send for him he comes, even if he is at the North Pole. 
 I shall send for him to-night. To-morrow you will see 
 him, and it will be Christmas, for it is always Christ- 
 mas where Santa Claus is." 
 
 Then he pressed the little boy's hand, and all the doc- 
 tors and the little boy's father and mother went out. 1 
 
 That night the bee sang the little boy to sleep again; 
 but it seemed to him that, as he lay there, people kept 
 moving softly about his bed — people who slipped back 
 and forth like shadows, without a sound. But the bee 
 droned on and on, and he did not wake. 
 
 It was the sound of voices that made him open his 
 eyes at last — the voices of people singing. And as he 
 looked round him it seemed to him that the great room 
 had grown smaller in the night. The walls now came 
 close up round the bed, and from somewhere just 
 beyond the wall came the sound of voices singing, — 
 
64 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 "O little town of Bethlehem, 
 
 How still we see thee lie ! 
 Above thy deep and dreamless sleep 
 
 The silent stars go by. 
 Yet in thy dark streets shineth 
 
 The everlasting Light; 
 The hopes and fears of all the years 
 
 Are met in thee to-night." 
 
 The little boy knew the song, for always on Christ- 
 mas Eve they had taken him from his bed at midnight 
 and carried him to the window; and, looking down, he 
 had seen men and women standing in the street, singing 
 that song. So he knew that Christmas had really come, 
 as the big doctor had said it would. 
 
 As the singing ended, a part of the wall near the bed 
 seemed to slip back out of the way, and in its place 
 stood a Christmas tree — a wonderful tree, heavy with" 
 apples and oranges and candy and chains of pop-corn, 
 and things that twinkled like stars, and other things 
 that glowed like fire. At the foot of the tree stood a sled, 
 and beside it a red wagon. There were other gifts, too, 
 that come only at Christmas — a box of tools, and many 
 soldiers marching all one way, not looking at all at the 
 little boy, but straight ahead. 
 
 Before the little boy had had time to see all the things, 
 he heard a noise on the other side of the bed; and as he 
 looked, the wall slipped aside and Santa Claus stood 
 before him. He was dressed all in red, as he always is, 
 and his long white beard twinkled with frost and snow; 
 but under the big fur cap and the bushy eyebrows the 
 
When the big doctor came that day the little boy was sleeping. 
 By his side lay the skates and the little ship. 
 
66 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 little boy could see two kind blue eyes that looked just 
 like the big doctor's. 
 
 "Little boy," said Santa Claus very softly, "I have 
 come a long, long way to see you and bring you your 
 Christmas — ■ all the way from the North Pole. Are you 
 glad?" - 
 
 The little boy looked up into his face with eyes round 
 with wonder but sparkling like stars. " Oh, yes, sir ! " he 
 said, "I am — I am — so glad — ^ so — " Then, all at 
 once, he put his arms over his face and began to cry. 
 
 Santa Claus stood a little while by the bed, watching 
 him, very still. Then he reached over to the tree and 
 took down the pair of skates and a little ship, and laid 
 them on the bed beside the little boy, and slipped away 
 without a word. 
 
 When the big doctor came that day, the little boy was 
 sleeping. By his side still lay the skates, and one hand 
 hugged the tiny ship. He was sleeping as he had not 
 slept before since they had brought him into the big 
 white room. The doctor did not try to wake him, but 
 merely bent above the cot a moment and listened. Then 
 he rose, tall and erect, and, looking straight ahead, he 
 said to the nurse, " Come. All is well with the little boy 
 now." And they both went out on tiptoe. 
 
Grandfather's Nickname 
 
 GRANDFATHER BARTLETT'S first name was 
 Jonathan, but one of his brothers, and two or 
 three old men who had known him all their lives, 
 would sometimes call him "Wolf." It used to seem very 
 strange to the grandchildren; but one day their grand- 
 mother told them this story: — 
 
 " It began way back when grandfather was only five 
 years old, and his father and mother started, with thirty 
 other families, to cross the great plains and make new 
 homes for themselves where land was free and the farm- 
 ing was easier. 
 
 "They traveled in great covered wagons drawn by 
 two or three yoke of oxen, and all together made up a 
 train nearly half a mile long. Under the wagons, swing- 
 ing from the axles, hung the kettles and pots and pans 
 in which they cooked their meals by the open camp- 
 fires; and all day long, as the slow oxen plodded through 
 the dust, you could hear the kettles go cling! clang! 
 tink! tank! as they struck against one another. 
 
 "Sometimes they slept in the big wagons; but when 
 it was pleasant and not too cold, the blankets were 
 spread on the ground, with the big wagons backed into 
 a circle like a fence round about the camp, and the men 
 taking turns in keeping awake to see that no Indians 
 crept up, and that wolves did not get the cattle. 
 
68 UNCLE 2EB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 "But often after supper, as you sat by the blazing 
 fire, somewhere out of the darkness beyond the ring of 
 wagons a sound would rise that made you feel creepy 
 all over, and like snuggling close to your father — a 
 wild, high-sounding howl, now rising, now falling; seem- 
 ing now to come from one side, now from the other. 
 And pretty soon another howl like it would begin, and 
 then another, until there were more than you could 
 count, and you shivered, and were glad when Captain 
 Lane stirred up the fire. 
 
 " It was funny to see old Shep when the howling be- 
 gan. The first time he heard it, he began to bark with 
 all his might, and rushed out between two wagons, into 
 the darkness; but in a few minutes there was a quick 
 thump of feet, and back he came, on the jump, whining, 
 with his tail between his legs. But the men in the camp 
 said they liked to hear the howling, because they knew 
 that as long as it kept up there were no creeping Indi- 
 ans about. 
 
 "So the long days went by, until one evening when 
 they made camp a little earlier than usual because they 
 had found a good spring of water. The day before that 
 had been grandfather's fifth birthday, and one of the 
 hunters in the party had made him a whistle from the 
 leg-bone of an antelope; and so, on this evening, instead 
 of playing with the other children, he had taken his 
 whistle and gone off by himself. 
 
 "He walked a long way, and when he turned to go 
 back he could not see any camp or hear any voices; but 
 
GRANDFATHER'S NICKNAME 69 
 
 he knew that the wagons could not be far away, and so 
 he kept walking. 
 
 "By and by the sun dropped out of sight and it began 
 to grow dark, and still there was no camp. The little 
 five-year-old boy was tired and hungry, and began to 
 be afraid. He sat down in a little hollow in the prairie 
 and cried; but no one came, for no one heard him. And 
 then, after what seemed a long time, it began to be light 
 again, and he saw that the great round moon was peep- 
 ing over the edge of the hollow in which he sat. 
 
 "But also on the edge of the hollow, right beside the 
 moon, sat something else — something that looked like 
 old Shep. The little boy called to him, 'Come, Shep! 
 Nice doggy! nice old Shep!' but the thing did not come. 
 Instead, it stood up and backed away. The little boy 
 stood up, too, and started to run toward the dog; but 
 the strange dog did not wait, as Shep would have done, 
 but turned and slipped away. In a few minutes it was 
 back again, sitting just where it had sat before; and a 
 little at one side sat another, just like it. 
 
 "The little boy put the bone whistle to his lips and 
 blew it hard. Both of the gray figures on the edge of 
 the hollow jumped so quickly that they almost fell over 
 backward. That made the boy laugh, and he blew again, 
 and turned round to see if the strange dogs were any- 
 where in sight. Behind him one of them was just coming 
 back. It sat down on the edge of the hollow and watch- 
 ed, and the full moon, shining on its eyes, made them 
 look big and green. He turned round again, and there 
 
70 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 sat the other two, just where he had seen them at first; 
 and then another came, and another, until there were 
 five. 
 
 "And then, all at once and all together, they began to 
 make the long, long howl that he had so often heard in 
 the cozy camp; and he saw that they held their heads 
 high in the air and their noses pointed to the sky, and 
 that they were singing together the song that had made 
 him feel so creepy and nestle up to his father. He knew, 
 then, that they were not dogs, but wolves. 
 
 "He tried to cry, but the whistle was in his mouth, 
 and he made only a funny little noise. The wolves 
 stopped singing and stood up. He blew again, this time 
 with all his might. They ran back a few steps. Once 
 more he sounded the whistle, now in little toots, now in 
 a long, high squeal; and then, almost before he knew it, 
 the gray shapes on the edge of the hollow were gone, and 
 he saw flashes of light, and heard the crack of pistols 
 and the cries of men and the sound of galloping horses. 
 And down the side of the hollow, bounding and barking, 
 came Shep himself. 
 
 "The next thing that grandfather knew, his father 
 had him in his arms, on horseback, and they were gal- 
 loping back to camp. So that is why they gave him the 
 nickname of 'Wolf Bartlett." 
 
Lemonade Sandy 
 
 SANDY was yellow. His small ears hung down most 
 of the time, but they stood up sharply when you 
 spoke to him. His hair was stiff and wiry, and 
 grew so thick round his face and eyes that it looked like 
 whiskers. The first time Mr. Tolman saw him, he said, 
 "He looks like a Scotchman. You should call him 
 Sandy." So that is how he got his name. 
 
 No one knew where he came from. Don Furber found 
 him on the doorstep one morning. When Don came 
 out, the dog wagged his stumpy tail and looked up, as If 
 to say, "Good morning! This Is a fine day. What shall 
 we do.^" And all day long they played together — Don 
 and the dog and the other children in the street. At 
 noon they gave him a bone, with plenty of meat on it, 
 and he ate it quietly and thankfully, like a gentleman. 
 He followed Don home that night, but did not attempt 
 to go into the house. Instead, he curled up under the 
 lilac-bush by the back door and went to sleep. 
 
 But the next morning, instead of being on Don's door- 
 step, he was on Lewis Norton's; and to Lewis, too, he 
 seemed to say, "Good morning! This is a fine day. 
 What shall we do.?" 
 
 And that is how Sandy came to Kay Street. Some- 
 times he stayed at one house, sometimes at another, 
 but all day he played with the children. Some one 
 
72 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 always fed him, an honored guest, -first at one house, then 
 at another, until everybody on the street grew to know 
 and like him. 
 
 And then one hot day a wagon came into the street — 
 a wagon painted black, with iron bars across the back 
 of it, and along the sidewalk went a man who carried a 
 net at the end of a long pole. Sandy was sitting in front 
 of Don Furber's house, and Don and some of the other 
 children were playing under a tree in the yard. Before 
 Sandy knew what the man with the net was going to 
 do, he found the net over his head and the man's hand 
 on his ear. He let out a frightened yelp that made the 
 children look up, and then they all started on the run. 
 
 "What are you doing with Sandy.'"' they cried. 
 
 "I've got to take him away," the man said. "He 
 has n't any collar on. Nobody has paid his license." 
 
 "How much is it.'"' asked Lewis, with round, fright- 
 ened eyes. 
 
 "Two dollars," answered the man. " It ought to have 
 been paid on the first of May, if you wanted to keep 
 him. Is he your dog?" 
 
 "He is our dog," they all cried together. And then 
 Susie Harris spoke up. 
 
 "Can we keep him if we pay .^ " 
 
 The man laughed. "Why, yes, I think so. Have you 
 got the money?" 
 
 "No," said Susie, "but I know how we can get it. 
 Will you wait till next week?" 
 
 The man stopped to think a moment. Then he said, 
 
v>n 
 
 
 C < (' 
 
 1 1' 
 
 '5^ 
 
 -to Wi VV el"' 
 
 // wa5 /jo/, hot weather, and as people went by, the cold lem- 
 onade looked tempting. They, too, heard the story of Sandy. 
 
74 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 "Yes, I'll wait a week, if you will promise to keep him 
 tied up." 
 
 Of course they promised, and the man drove away 
 on the black wagon, and Susie told of her plan — to 
 make lemonade and sell it from a little stand on the 
 edge of the sidewalk. 
 
 An hour later there was a little table in the front 
 yard of the Furber home, and on it a clean cloth and 
 clean glasses and a big pail of lemonade. And Don was 
 behind it, crying, as people passed on their way home 
 from the railway-station, "Ice-cold lemonade here, fresh 
 made, five cents a glass!" 
 
 It was hot, hot weather, and as the people went by, 
 mopping their faces and carrying their hats in their 
 hands, the cold lemonade looked tempting. In a little 
 while, too, they heard the story of Sandy. 
 
 The next day and the next it was the same; and 
 before the end of the week the little pasteboard box 
 beside the lemonade-pail had in it not only two dollars, 
 but nearly four. And then, in a happy procession, with 
 Sandy tugging at his rope, they marched to the town 
 hall and paid the license fee. After that they went to a 
 hardware store and paid some more money to a man 
 who said, yes, he would have it done that day. And 
 now, if you should see Sandy, you would find that 
 instead of a rope round his neck there is a fine collar, 
 with a shining brass plate on it that says, "Lemonade 
 Sandy, Kay Street." 
 
Caught in a Flood 
 
 THE sun was shining, the dew was sparkling like 
 diamonds on the grass, birds were singing, and 
 the air was full of the sweet smell of flowers ; yet 
 to Walter Barnes and Luther Markham it was a sad 
 morning. At four o'clock the two boys had seen their 
 older brothers climb to the seat of a long buckboard, 
 piled high with clothing, fishing-rods, a tent, and boxes 
 of good things to eat. Then they had seen the wagon 
 start on its twenty-mile trip to the camp in the big 
 woods. It was because Walter and Luther were not to 
 go themselves that they could not see the beauty of the 
 shining dew or enjoy the songs of the birds. 
 
 "Well," said Walter, after the last sound of the buck- 
 board had died away, "we can do one thing, anyway — 
 take my old boat, the Marsh-hawk, and explore Birch 
 Island." 
 
 "Good!" cried Luther. And soon the two boys, with 
 boxes packed full of cold meat and bread-and-butter 
 and jelly and marble-cake, were pushing slowly up the 
 stream in the broad, safe old Marsh-hawk, which Mr. 
 Barnes had bought for the boys' own use. 
 
 It is nearly two miles to Birch Island, but the boys 
 reached it before the middle of the forenoon, and pulled 
 the boat up on the sand-bar at the southern end. The 
 island is long, narrow, and low. Over most of it is a thick 
 
76 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 growth of white birches, with a fringe of alders and other 
 bushes along the edge. 
 
 Slowly the boys worked their way ahead, looking for 
 new plants and flowers, and counting all the birds' 
 nests, for it was just the place that birds would like 
 to build in. They were half-way up the eastern shore 
 when Luther heard a strange sound. It was as if all the 
 little bushes along the shore were whispering together, 
 and all the pebbles singing. 
 
 "Hark!" he said. "What is that noise.'' It sounds 
 like the wind, but it can't be, because the trees are not 
 moving. Listen!" 
 
 "Why, it's the water!" cried Walter. "It's rising. 
 Oh, I know ! I heard father say they were going to open 
 the gates of the dam up at the Gap, to start some logs." 
 
 Without being at all frightened, the two boys watched 
 the creeping waters come up over the strip of sand, then 
 up the stems of the lower line of bushes. But suddenly 
 there was a louder and a different sound, and looking out, 
 they saw a low wall of water rushing down upon them. 
 In another moment it had touched their feet. Then 
 it came over their ankles, and crept, cold as ice, half- 
 way up to their knees. 
 
 "The trees, Walter, the trees!" cried Luther. And 
 both of the now frightened boys made a rush for a 
 birch tree big enough for them to climb and to hold their 
 weight. 
 
 It was a strange sight that they saw from their perch 
 on a strong limb. Birds were flying wildly about, crying 
 
i-^-^A 
 
 An old Indian in a red shirt, and with moccasins on his feet, 
 held the canoe steady while the boys dropped carefully into it; 
 and then, like an arrow, the little craft dashed away. 
 
78 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 with fear for their young. Under the very tree where 
 they sat, a gray rabbit floated by, splashing the water as 
 he tried to swim; and a Httle later they saw two squir- 
 rels, swimming easily, and a weasel, with cruel little 
 eyes that shone like two black beads. 
 
 The boys shouted for help as loud as they could; and 
 after a time the help came, in a way that seemed to them 
 as wonderful as the flood itself. 
 
 Suddenly a deep voice, almost under and a little 
 behind them, called out, "Papoose no need be scare! 
 Old Sebattis save!" 
 
 They turned their heads, to see a- canoe close beside 
 their tree, and in it a tall old Indian, in a red shirt, and 
 with moccasins on his feet. He held the canoe steady 
 while the boys dropped carefully into it, and then, like 
 an arrow, the little craft dashed away for home. How 
 the boys found in the canoe a drinking-cup and a berry- 
 dish of birch-bark, and how old Sebattis taught them 
 the way to make such dishes for themselves, would take 
 too long to tell here; but it made a happy day for the 
 boys. They were even glad that they had not gone 
 with their older brothers, because then they would not 
 have found old Sebattis. 
 
Jimmie's Birds 
 
 EARLY on one fine, bright morning, just as Jimmie 
 Bailey was starting for school, he heard a sweet, 
 clear whistle from the tall elm tree in front of 
 his house. At first he thought it was one of the other 
 boys who had climbed up there and hidden, to fool 
 him; but the tree was so big that no one could climb 
 it without a ladder. Then the whistle came again, and 
 there was a flash of something bright, like flame, and he 
 saw that it was a beautiful bird that had made the call. 
 
 That afternoon he went out under the tree again. In 
 a little while the bird came, carrying a long string in its 
 bill. Its mate was with it this time, and Jimmie saw 
 that they had begun to build a nest away out on the tip 
 end of a swaying twig. The bird that made the sweet 
 whistling call was of a beautiful bright orange color, 
 with wings of jet-black, but its mate was dressed in a 
 suit of yellowish brown, that Jimmie thought was not 
 nearly so pretty. 
 
 It was a wonderful nest that they were building — a 
 perfect little basket, or bag, of string and horsehair and 
 lint and bits of bright-colored yarn; and it was so hung 
 to the end of the twig that every breeze swayed and 
 rocked it back and forth. At the same time, it was so 
 far out from the trunk of the tree that no man or boy, 
 even if he climbed the tree, could reach it, nor could 
 even a cat get at the young birds. 
 
8o UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 The work of building the nest went on for three or 
 four days, and then all at once it stopped. The mother 
 bird — in her yellowish-brown suit — was about the 
 tree, and seemed frightened. She flew about and back 
 and forth, but did not work at the nest; and the father 
 bird, in his coat of orange and black, was nowhere to be 
 seen. 
 
 On Saturday afternoon Jlmmie was looking out of the 
 window, when he saw three or four other boys under a 
 big maple tree farther down the street. All of them had 
 sling-shots, and seemed to be shooting little stones at 
 something up in the tree. 
 
 After watching them a while, Jimmie got his own 
 sling-shot and went out. 
 
 "What are you shooting at?" he said. 
 
 "There's a bird up there, and we 're trying to kill it. 
 It's got caught and can't get away, and it will starve to 
 death. Johnnie Reynolds saw it there three days ago." 
 
 Jimmie looked where the other boys pointed, and 
 there, hanging head down from a limb, was his beautiful 
 black-and-orange bird. It seemed to be tied by one leg. 
 Its wings were stretched out, as if it were too tired to 
 hold them up, and as it spun slowly round in the soft 
 breeze, it fluttered feebly once or twice. 
 
 "Hold on, boys! Don't shoot again! Don't kill him! 
 He is building a nest in the big elm in front of my house. 
 I have been watching him for almost a week. Let's get 
 the big ladder from my yard, and one of us go up and 
 set him free." 
 
Jimmie kept bravely on till he could just reach out and untwist 
 the string that held the bird's leg. 
 
82 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 The boys decided to do it. The four of them together 
 could just carry the ladder out to the tree, but it was 
 too heavy for them to raise. They did not know what to 
 do then; but a man came along, and they told him about 
 it, and he put up the ladder and held it while Jimmie 
 went up. 
 
 It was a long, hard climb, even after he had gone clear 
 to the top of the ladder; but Jimmie kept bravely on 
 till he could just reach out and untwist the string that 
 held the bird's leg. The poor thing was too weak even 
 to cry out, but just lay still in Jimmie's hand until he 
 climbed back to the ladder, and so down to the ground. 
 
 The string was twisted round and round the bird's leg, 
 so that it took some time to unwind it and get it off. 
 The bird must have been carrying it to its nest, when 
 one end caught in the maple tree and the other end 
 wound round its leg. Then the harder it struggled and 
 the more it spun round, the firmer it was held. 
 
 When the bird was at last free, it lay still a moment 
 on Jimmie's hand, and then fluttered away, up into the 
 elm. That evening Jimmie saw both the mother and the 
 father bird together, and the next morning they were at 
 work again at the nest, and by midsummer a happy 
 little family of four young Baltimore orioles was swing- 
 ing in the cozy little basket. Jimmie calls them his 
 birds, and everybody who knows about it thinks that 
 he has a good right to do so. 
 
An Indian Birthday Spoon 
 
 IN a clump of tall white birches, a little way back 
 from the beach, a tent had sprung up, like a toad- 
 stool, overnight. It was Roy Allen's birthday, and 
 he had gone out for a walk up toward the birches, trying 
 to think what he could do to make the day happy. 
 
 The tent was stained and streaked, as if it had been 
 used many years. In front of it a camp-fire was burn- 
 ing, and over the fire hung an iron kettle. In a log by 
 the fire a small axe was sticking. It was plain that some- 
 one was living in the tent. 
 
 Roy's heart beat fast. Could it be that an Indian had 
 come there to camp.? The question was answered at 
 once, for the flaps of the tent were pushed aside, and 
 out came a tall old Indian, his hands full of long, thin 
 strips of wood, like ribbons. 
 
 The Indian's wrinkled, sun-tanned face broke into 
 a smile when he saw the boy. He nodded, and cried, 
 "How.?" 
 
 "Good-morning!" said Roy; and then he could not 
 help adding, although he knew it was not quite polite, 
 "Are you a real Indian?" 
 
 The old man laughed. "Real Injun; old Sa-ka-we- 
 jis," he said. "Make um basket, make um broom, 
 make um bow and arrow. You stay, you see." 
 
 Here was a chance, and Roy was quick to take it. 
 
84 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 The old man went a little way out in front of the tent 
 and threw down his bundle of wooden strips at the 
 roots of a large tree. Then he went to the brook, and 
 out of a pool took some pieces of ash as large as a broom- 
 stick and about as long. He also picked up a smooth, 
 round stone the size of his fist, and brought that and 
 the ash-wood back to the big tree. There he sat down, 
 with Roy in front of him watching everything he did. 
 
 The Indian first took one of the pieces of ash and 
 pounded it gently with the stone, all the way from one 
 end to the other and back again. When he had done 
 that, he took a long knife from his belt, and starting 
 the blade at the end of the stick, between two layers 
 of the grain, he pushed it slowly in. The wood split 
 off in a smooth strip, unbroken from end to end. 
 
 When the whole stick had been split up in that way, 
 the old man took eight or ten other pieces, round on 
 one side and flat on the other, and laying them across 
 one another, so that they looked like the spokes of a 
 wheel, he tied them together in the middle with some 
 long white roots almost as fine as thread. 
 
 Roy now guessed that this was to be the frame, or 
 ribs, of a basket; and when the Indian took some of the 
 thin, wet strips he had just split off and began to weave 
 them round and round, over and under the ribs, Roy 
 knew that he had guessed right. 
 
 The old man worked very quickly, without saying 
 much, but every little while he would look up and smile. 
 By and by, when the basket was more than half done. 
 
AN INDIAN BIRTHDAY SPOON 85 
 
 he got up, and said, " Dinner-time now. You stay, eat 
 dinner with Sa-ka-we-jis." 
 
 Without waiting for Roy to answer, he went into the 
 tent, and came out with some potatoes, green corn, and 
 onions, and a basket. Having peeled the potatoes and 
 the onions, and shelled the corn, he put all of them into 
 the kettle, boiling over the fire. Then he took the little 
 axe, and with a few blows cut a young birch, trimmed it 
 into a stick the length of a cane, sharpened one end of 
 it, and with that and the basket, started for the beach. 
 In a few minutes he was back again, with the basket full 
 of fat, juicy clams, which he shelled and put into the 
 kettle. 
 
 From time to time he stirred it, and as the cover was 
 lifted and the steam poured out, Roy caught a smell that 
 made him feel as hungry as a little bear. 
 
 When all was ready, the old man brought from the 
 tent two small tin pans, and dipping one full for him- 
 self, he filled the other and passed It to Roy. Then he 
 took a large spoon from his pocket and began to eat. 
 
 After a mouthful or two he looked up, and saw that 
 Roy was not eating. At that he threw back his head 
 and laughed. "White boy no spoon, no can eat soup. 
 What can do?" 
 
 "I don't know, sir," answered Roy; and he began to 
 think he was going to lose his dinner, after all. 
 
 "Wait. Sa-ka-we-jis show how. Make um Injun 
 spoon," said the old man. 
 
 He got up, went into the tent, and came out with a 
 
86 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 large wire nail. Taking a clam-shell in his hand, he held 
 the sharp point of the nail against the shell, near the 
 edge, and struck the nail two sharp blows with a stone. 
 There were two holes in the shell ! With his knife he cut 
 a limb from a young birch, left it as long as his hand, 
 and split one end of it. Into the split end he pushed the 
 edge of the clam-shell, and with some of the fine roots 
 he laced it in tight, through he two holes that he had 
 punched. In ten minutes he had a spoon that would 
 hold more than his own. As he passed it to Roy he said, 
 "Now make clam eat um clam. Injun dinner, Injun 
 spoon." 
 
 Never did any other dinner taste so good; and when 
 Roy was allowed to take home the clam-shell spoon, 
 he felt that he had a birthday present worth keeping. 
 That was the beginning of a friendship which lasted all 
 summer. 
 
Uncle David's Brother 
 
 WHEN Alice came downstairs, she found her great- 
 uncle David sitting in the parlor alone, and 
 very grave and still. He had on his blue uni- 
 form with the shining buttons; and his sword, and the 
 broad-brimmed hat with its black and gold cord, lay on 
 the table beside him. Alice went over to the big chair 
 where he sat, for her morning kiss. The old man put his 
 hand upon her shoulder and looked down at her so long 
 and so strangely that she felt a little afraid. 
 
 "My dear," he said at length, "I want to tell you a 
 little story this morning. I know you will remember it, 
 and every year when this day comes you will think of 
 the man I am going to tell you about. One day, a long, 
 long time ago, the news came that the President had 
 called for men to go and fight for the flag. The first man 
 in the town to say he would go was my brother Henry. 
 Then I said I would go, too. 
 
 "It was very grand when we marched away in our 
 new uniforms, with our shining guns. The bands played, 
 and everybody cheered us, and we felt very proud and 
 brave. 
 
 " But one night, after we had been away a long time 
 and had fought in many battles, our regiment was 
 waked up at midnight and marched forward to be ready 
 for a great battle that was coming in the morning. 
 
88 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 " By daylight the cannon had begun to boom, and in 
 a Uttle while the bullets were buzzing through the woods 
 like great bumblebees, and big shells screamed through 
 the trees, and the men were falling all around us. Clouds 
 of smoke hid everything, so we could see only a little 
 way. 
 
 " The enemy fought very bravely; but after a time we 
 began to drive them back a little, and at length we 
 were ordered to make a charge. We started on the 
 run, everybody cheering, Henry and I side by side. 
 Just before we reached the ridge where the enemy were 
 waiting for us, I felt a sharp sting in my side, and every- 
 thing grew black, and I fell. 
 
 "When I came to, it was dark. I was lying in a little 
 wood, and could see the stars shining down through the 
 trees. I got up and tried to walk, but I could n't stand. 
 I thought if I could get to the edge of the wood some- 
 one might find me, so I crawled along slowly. By and 
 by I saw a man sitting with his back against a tree, and 
 it was Henry. Just think, dear, how glad I was to see 
 him! He was wounded, too, but I did not know then 
 how badly. 
 
 " We had been talking a few minutes when we heard a 
 groan from a clump of bushes behind us. Henry crawled 
 over and found a man in a gray uniform, badly hurt, 
 and calling piteously for water. Neither of us had a 
 drop. Henry crawled back and sat with me by the tree 
 a little while; but he could not rest for thinking of the 
 man in the bushes, who was dying for a drink of water. 
 
UNCLE DAVID'S BROTHER 89 
 
 "Over to the right we could hear a little running 
 brook, and Henry started to crawl to it. He could move 
 only very slowly, he was so weak from his wounds; but 
 he never stopped or complained. He just dragged him- 
 self along till he reached the brook. 
 
 "The bank was high and steep, and he did not have 
 strength to climb down; but he lay on the edge and 
 lowered his canteen by a cord, and when it was full he 
 drew it up. Then he crawled back to the man in gray 
 and gave him the water. The poor fellow was so glad 
 that he cried, and he made my brother tell him his name 
 and where he lived. 
 
 "Henry crawled back to the tree and lay down beside 
 me. We began to talk of our home, and by and by he 
 asked me to sing, and I did; and Henry sang a little, 
 too; and then the wounded man in gray, back in the 
 bushes, took up the song in his poor, weak voice. But 
 before long we heard him moaning for water again, and 
 Henry dragged himself to the brook and got him some 
 more, till he grew quiet. 
 
 " I must have fallen asleep then. When I waked, some 
 men who had come to search for the wounded were bend- 
 ing over me. I looked all around, but I could not see 
 Henry. Then the men looked, and found him near the 
 brook. 
 
 "He was cold and still, my dear; but in his hand was 
 the canteen, which he was trying to fill again for his 
 wounded enemy. 
 
 "The wounded soldier in gray got well after a long 
 
In his hand was the canteen which he was trying to fill again for 
 his wounded enemy. 
 
UNCLE DAVID'S BROTHER 91 
 
 time, and once, when the war was over, he came here to 
 talk with us about the man in blue who had brought 
 him the water. 
 
 "Every year I keep this day in memory of my brother 
 Henry — your grandfather, my dear. He was not a 
 general or a colonel or a captain — just a plain private 
 soldier. It may be that no one ever heard of him except 
 the people in the town where he lived and the men in his 
 company; but I am sure you will always be glad to put 
 flowers on the grave of a grandfather who died so cheer- 
 fully, and who gave his last strength to help a man who 
 had fought against him." 
 
A Prisoner Set Free 
 
 OF all the windows that Nathan Fletcher had to 
 pass on his way to and from school, there was 
 no other at which he stopped so often or stayed 
 so long as that of Potts & Hunter's animal store. 
 The building stood at the corner of two streets, and 
 had a window on each street, and there was always 
 something alive to look at. Sometimes it was a pen full 
 of hens and chickens; sometimes a flock of ducks pad- 
 dling and splashing in a big cement basin. Once there 
 had been two young bears that spent most of their 
 time wrestling and boxing with each other, as if they 
 were two small. boys. Always, in one window or the 
 other, there was a cage of kittens, and most of the time 
 two or three pens of puppies. 
 
 It was the puppies that Nathan liked best, and one 
 little dog, above all, he had seen there so long that he 
 felt as if he knew him. Indeed, he even made up a name 
 for him, — " Bounce," — because he was always jumping 
 or dancing, or pawing the window or the side of the pen. 
 
 Nathan was sorry for Bounce. The other puppies did 
 not seem to mind being shut up, but for Bounce the pen 
 was a prison. In the street were carts to be chased, and 
 other dogs to bark at, and cats to scare, and small boys 
 to play with, and Bounce knew it, and wanted to get 
 out; and Nathan knew it, and wanted to help him. It 
 
A PRISONER SET FREE 93 
 
 seemed too bad that a little dog that had never done 
 anything bad should be shut up so long in prison. 
 
 But how could Nathan set him free ? The only way he 
 could think of was to buy him; and when he had gone 
 Into the store one morning and asked how. much they 
 would take for the little black-and-white dog in the 
 window, with the stubby tail, and stiff hair like whiskers 
 on his face, and a yellow spot over one eye, and that 
 held his head on one side and kept one ear higher than 
 the other, and his name was Bounce, the man laughed, 
 and said he guessed he would have to get about five dol- 
 lars for such a dog as that; and Nathan went out feel- 
 ing pretty bad, for he had not five dollars, no, nor half 
 so much. And so it seemed that Bounce might have to 
 stay in prison all the rest of his life. 
 
 But then came the morning when Nathan's father 
 sent him down-town very early, — ■ long before school, 
 and even before breakfast, — for someone had to carry 
 word to the plumber before his men left the shop. 
 
 The way to the plumber's led by the window of the 
 animal store, and Nathan stopped a moment to see 
 whether Bounce was still there. Yes, he was; and some- 
 thing else was there, too. The other puppies were 
 crowded together in one corner of the pen, as if they 
 were frightened; but Bounce was racing back and forth, 
 leaping against the bars, and barking at the top of his 
 high little voice. In the big room outside the pen was 
 a large monkey, loose. The door of his cage in the corner 
 stood wide open. Already the monkey had opened a bag 
 
94 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 of corn and a bag of meal, and had thrown handfuls of 
 both into the cage where the kittens were kept, and into 
 the glass tank that held the goldfish. As Nathan looked, 
 the monkey began to pull the tail feathers from a big 
 black rooster; and when he grew tired of that, he took 
 a watering-pot and began to sprinkle the kittens, the 
 squirrels, and the parrots. 
 
 Without staying to see anything more, Nathan start- 
 ed on the dead run for the drug store on the next corner. 
 Through the open door he rushed, straight to the tele- 
 phone booth. In the big book he found first the number 
 of Potts & Hunter, and then that of Mr. Potts's house. 
 He dropped his nickel into the slot, and when the 
 answer came, told the man at the other end of the line 
 what he had seen. The man thanked him, and said he 
 would go right down to the store. Then Nathan went 
 on to the plumber's, and left the note his father had 
 given him. 
 
 On the way back he saw a motor-car stop in front of 
 the animal store, and a man dash up the steps and go 
 in. Nathan, too, stopped and went in. The man was 
 just closing the door of the big monkey's cage, behind 
 the bars of which the monkey crouched, scolding and 
 chattering. The whole store looked as if it had been 
 turned upside down and inside out. 
 
 The man looked round when he heard Nathan's 
 step. "Bad work," he said. 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered Nathan. "But I'm glad I was 
 going by and saw him when I did." 
 
A PRISONER SET FREE 95 
 
 "Oh, are you the boy that called me up?" 
 "Yes, sir," said Nathan. " I called you." 
 "Well, you did me a good turn, and I thank you. 
 Are n't you the boy who came in here a few days ago 
 and asked me how much we would take for the little 
 dog in the window.? I thought so. Well, now, see here : 
 that dog is yours. He's a real, full-blooded mongrel, 
 and knows a lot. You take him home with you as a pres- 
 ent from me." 
 
 It seemed too good to be true, but it was true; for 
 when Nathan went out, a black and white and yellow 
 ball went with him. It dashed after wagons and got in 
 the way of motor-cars, and leaped almost to Nathan's 
 face, and slipped between his legs, and seemed to be 
 everywhere at once, and nowhere when it was wanted. 
 And the ball was Bounce, free of his prison, out forever 
 from behind the bars, out in the sunlight and the air, 
 with a boy who loved him and wanted a playmate, 
 and who was sure there was no other playmate that was 
 quite so much fun as a full-blooded mongrel puppy. 
 
Pine-Needle Pictures 
 
 TWO families that are neighbors in town during the 
 greater part of the year had been camping out 
 all summer in a big pine grove, and the children 
 had enjoyed every minute of it. 
 
 Each family had three big tents, and besides, there 
 was a great outdoor oven built of stones, with a canvas 
 shelter over it, where the cooking was done, and where, 
 in the evenings, you could sit round a big, blazing 
 camp-fire that cast wonderful shadows out into the dark 
 woods. And all of them thought that the rude tents in 
 which they slept were much cosier than rooms at home. 
 
 Between four big trees was stretched another piece of 
 canvas for a roof, and underneath it stood a table large 
 enough for all of the two families. Here they ate their 
 meals, with the fresh air blowing through the tree-tops 
 above their heads and squirrels chattering in the lowest 
 branches. 
 
 The top of the big table was covered with a great 
 smooth white oilcloth; and one rainy day, when there 
 was nothing else to do, Henry and his Cousin Ethel got 
 some half-burned sticks of soft wood from the fireplace 
 and began to draw pictures on the table-cover. They 
 were having a fine time when Uncle Hubert appeared. 
 
 "0-ho!" he cried. "That will never do! You must 
 not make such a muss of that tablecloth! You get 
 
-^ 
 
 
 £//!eZ JfgoM wi/^ a house; Henry was busy with a sailboat; and 
 Uncle Hubert made a camel and its driver resting under a tree. 
 
98 PINE-NEEDLE PICTURES 
 
 some soap and water and wash it all off, and then I'll 
 show you how to make a new kind of pictures." 
 
 By the time the children had the tablecloth cleaned, 
 Uncle Hubert was back again with a basketful of the 
 "needles," or leaves, of the pine trees, which he had 
 picked up from the ground. Each of the needles is like 
 a slender line, but some are long and straight, and some 
 are short and crooked, so that by picking out the kind 
 you want, and laying them carefully on the table-cover, 
 you can make any kind of a picture. 
 
 Ethel began with a house. It had a door and windows, 
 and a chimney, with smoke coming out; and while she 
 was doing that, Henry was busy making a sailboat, with 
 all the sails set and the waves dancing. The waves were 
 easy to make, for most of the pine-needles are curved 
 just right. 
 
 But in the basket Uncle Hubert found a little pine 
 twig that had a whole bunch of needles growing on it. 
 When he laid that down on the table-cover it looked 
 just like a palm tree; so he took some more needles, and 
 in a little while had made a camel and a camel-driver 
 resting under the tree. 
 
 That pleased Henry and Ethel so much that they 
 teased their Uncle Hubert to make some more pictures. 
 
 It was good fun for all the children whenever it 
 rained; and when they went back to town in the fall 
 they brought a large bag of pine-needles, so they could 
 play at the same game during the winter evenings. 
 They have grown so skillful now that they sometimes 
 
PINE-NEEDLE PICTURES 99 
 
 oflFer prizes for the one who can make the best picture 
 with the fewest needles, and without breaking any of 
 them. If you can find short ones in the bunch, it is all 
 right; but the children say "it is no fair" to break them, 
 although they had to do it when they made locomotives. 
 
The Abandoned Well 
 
 THE Lewis children — Tom, Henry and little Bob — 
 were spending Old Home Week on their grand- 
 father's farm. There were woods, and wild pas- 
 tures full of berries; there were two brooks, pigs and 
 hens, the old horse that Bob loved to feed, swallows' 
 nests in the barn with young birds in them, and many 
 other things to fill the days with happiness. 
 
 But one day the boys did not know what to do with 
 themselves. The men had finished haying, which had 
 been a time of great excitement. Tom and Henry had 
 done their share: Tom had driven the horse-rake after 
 slow and gentle old Charlie, and Henry had used a 
 hand-rake to clean up after him; and both of them 
 had ridden on top of the great, swaying, jouncing 
 load, and in the barn they had leaped from the big cross- 
 beams over a dizzy distance to the soft, sweet-smelling 
 beds of hay in the mows. Now that it was all over, they 
 were trying to think what they should do next. 
 
 And then, when they were berrying in the north pas- 
 ture, they found the old well. It had been dug years 
 ago, to furnish water for the cattle; and although it was 
 only ten feet deep, there had always been water in it. 
 But when grandfather dug the big ditch to drain the 
 land, the water had all leaked out. 
 
 Over the well stood a long, old-fashioned well-sweep, 
 
THE ABANDONED WELL loi 
 
 made of a young tree with a fork at the upper end driven 
 into the ground, to hold the great thirty-foot pole that 
 carried the bucket hanging from one end, and held, in 
 a sort of pocket made of wooden pins, a great stone 
 that served as a weight. 
 
 In the grass and bushes beside the old well the boys 
 found the bucket still hanging to its iron chain, and 
 they found that by pulling down hard on the chain, 
 they could send the bucket to the bottom. When they 
 let go, the weight of the stone on the pole would bring 
 it up again. 
 
 "Oh, I know what we'll do!" cried Tom. "We'll 
 play that we are miners. I'll be the engineer that stays 
 on top of the ground and runs the hoisting-engine, and 
 you can be the miner, and I will let you down and draw 
 up the buckets of coal that you dig." 
 
 At first Henry did not want to go down, but at last 
 he said he would if Tom would promise to pull him up 
 as soon as he wanted him to; and Tom promised. 
 
 With Tom holding the bucket steady, Henry climbed 
 in and held tight to the chain, while Tom swung him 
 carefully over the edge and began to let him down. But 
 Tom had not thought about Henry being heavier than 
 a bucket of water, and although he held on as hard as 
 he could, the chain slipped through his fingers and hurt 
 his hands, and for the last three feet the bucket went 
 pretty fast, and struck the bottom with a bang that 
 frightened both boys. 
 
 It happened that Henry was not hurt. Still, the fright 
 
I02 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 made him wish to come up at once, and Tom tried to 
 raise him by puUing on the chain. He found that he 
 could not lift him an inch, no matter how hard he tugged. 
 Henry's weight was greater than that of the stone on the 
 pole. 
 
 Both boys were now badly frightened, especially 
 Henry, who began to cry. But Tom told him not to be 
 afraid; he would get him out in a few minutes. And 
 then he had a happy thought. The day before, when the 
 tin-pedler had called at the farmhouse, the boys had 
 watched him as he weighed a big bundle of rags on a 
 steelyard; and Tom had noticed that, although the 
 weight would not lift the rags at first, when it was 
 near the centre, it did lift them as soon as the pedler 
 moved it out near the end. He saw at once that the pole 
 of the well-sweep was like the arm of the steelyard. 
 
 "I know! I know!" he shouted; and in an instant 
 he had begun to climb the post that held the long pole. 
 Slowly he worked his way up until he reached the fork, 
 and then, wrapping his legs round the pole, he slid along 
 toward the big stone. 
 
 In a little while he felt the pole move just a bit, and 
 then it began to rise, and went on rising till the stone 
 rested on the ground, and there, on the other end, was 
 the bucket, hanging on the edge of the well, with Henry 
 safe in it. 
 
 How carefully he held the pole down till he saw 
 Henry work his way over the side of the bucket and 
 stand once more on the good green grass ! Then he slid 
 
THE ABANDONED WELL 103 
 
 down, and the two boys hugged each other, and then 
 went home. 
 
 There is an abandoned coal-mine on grandfather's 
 farm that will probably never be worked, but grand- 
 father does not know it. 
 
In Lost Swamp 
 
 IN the summer Leonard Mitchell began to spend 
 much time in the woods. His home was in a small 
 village, back of which lay big, wild land that 
 stretched away to the mountains. 
 
 There were several little streams in which trout could 
 be caught, and one or two ponds where there were perch 
 and pickerel and bass. Altogether, the country about 
 Denridge, the village in which Leonard lived, was a 
 fine place for a boy who loved the woods. 
 
 Leonard's father would not allow him to have a gun, 
 because he thought he was not yet old enough; but he 
 made for him what he called an arrow-rifle. It was of the 
 same shape and size as a real rifle, only, instead of using 
 cartridges, it had a strong rubber cord as thick as 
 Leonard's little finger, and shot small arrows about a 
 foot long. It shot so well that Leonard could knock an 
 apple from a tree or a cent from the end of a split stick 
 set up the width of the street away. 
 
 With his trusty arrow-rifle over his shoulder and a 
 pail of luncheon in his hand, Leonard would start off 
 early in the morning, right after breakfast, and stay 
 until supper-time. Tramping the woods until he was 
 tired, and finding new places to explore, he would sit 
 down at noon under some shady tree by a spring of 
 water and eat his luncheon. Then, after a long rest, he 
 
IN LOST SWAMP 105 
 
 would spend a part of the afternoon in picking berries, 
 so that he usually went home with a full pail. 
 
 One day, while he was eating his luncheon, he was 
 startled by a sudden rush behind him. He turned 
 quickly, to find a large dog by his side, and behind the 
 dog a man with a gun on his shoulder. 
 
 The man smiled pleasantly, and said, "Are you look- 
 ing for berries.'"' 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered Leonard. 
 
 "Well," said the man, "I have just tramped over 
 through the woods from Lemmington, and just a little 
 way back — not more than half a mile — I found a little 
 swampy place full of high-bush blueberries. No one 
 has ever gathered them. The bushes are so high that 
 they are almost like trees. You can climb up into them; 
 and the berries are as big as hazelnuts. There are 
 bushels of them." 
 
 Here was exciting news ! Blueberries were worth ten 
 cents a quart. A bushel would come to more than three 
 dollars ! 
 
 Leonard began at once to hunt for the little swamp; 
 but although he searched till nearly dark, he found no 
 trace of it. That evening he went over to the house of 
 his best friend, Ben Edgerly, and told him about it. 
 Ben eagerly agreed to go partners and help hunt for the' 
 lost swamp. 
 
 Early the next morning they started, each with a big 
 pail and a large package of luncheon. By going first to 
 the spot where the strange man had come upon Leonard 
 
io6 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 the day before, and making that their starting-point, 
 they were able to keep the direction better; and a little 
 before ten o'clock they found the swamp. 
 
 What a sight it was! Never had either of the boys 
 seen such bushes or such berries. All that the man had 
 said was true. 
 
 Going off a little to one side, where the ground was 
 higher and drier, they laid their luncheon and their 
 coats under a tree, and then returning to the swamp, 
 began to pick. The berries were so big that it was not 
 work but play, and they piled up so fast that by noon 
 each boy had his ten-quart pail nearly two-thirds full. 
 But they were hungry then, and decided to leave the 
 berries where they were. 
 
 What a surprise they had ! Under the tree where they 
 had left their luncheons were only scraps of torn and 
 greasy paper. Not a bit of food could be found. 
 
 "Who do you suppose did it, Len?" asked Ben. 
 
 "Maybe it was that Joe Wilkins," said Leonard. "He 
 saw us going off this morning. Perhaps he followed us." 
 
 It was hard to have no luncheon, but since it could 
 not be helped, the boys decided to go back and finish 
 filling their pails, and then go home. But they were to 
 have another surprise. They found both pails tipped 
 over and all the berries gone. It looked like a pretty 
 mean trick; but neither Leonard nor Ben was a boy who 
 would give up easily when he had once started to do a 
 thing, so both of them picked up their pails and went 
 doggedly to work to fill them again. 
 
IN LOST SWAMP 107 
 
 Picking as fast as they could, and moving on wherever 
 the berries seemed to be thickest, the boys In a little 
 while had worked some little way apart from each other, 
 but without knowing it. Then Leonard, just as he 
 reached a fine bush loaded with great rich, dark blue- 
 berries, heard a rustle and a sudden "Woof!" on the 
 other side of it, and found himself looking right into the 
 face of a half-grown bear! 
 
 For a moment he was too frightened to move, but 
 he- was not too frightened to yell. He gave one wild cry, 
 "A bear, Ben, a bear!" at the top of his voice. At the 
 sound the bear disappeared, and Leonard heard the wild 
 rush he made as he dashed away through the bushes. 
 Then Leonard, too, ran at the top of his speed, as he had 
 never run before. 
 
 A minute later Ben joined him, and he also was run- 
 ning as if the bear were at his very heels; and neither 
 boy stopped till the first houses of the village came in 
 sight. 
 
 The next day a party of hunters, guided by Leonard 
 and Ben, visited the little swamp. There, sure enough, 
 they found plenty of traces of bears — tracks in the 
 mud, as of an old bear and two young ones, and bushes 
 bent down and stripped of their berries. It was plain 
 enough where the boys' luncheons had gone and how 
 their pails had been tipped over. But the bears them- 
 selves could not be found. 
 
 The next year Leonard was so much bigger that his 
 father allowed him to have a real gun; and armed with 
 
io8 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 that, the two boys visited the swamp again, and for 
 many years afterward, and gathered many bushels of 
 berries, without ever being disturbed again by bears, or 
 seeing any sign of them. 
 
The Captives 
 
 MICE had been se^n in the pantry, and that eve- 
 ning Harry and Ruth watched with much eager- 
 ness to see the trap baited and set. 
 
 It was not one of those little traps that shut down 
 quickly and choke the mouse, but a big wire cage, which 
 must seem to a mouse like a large, airy room. Father 
 cut off a piece of cheese that was hard and would not 
 break easily, and after toasting it a few minutes over 
 the fire, fixed it firmly on the little wire hook that hung 
 down from the roof of the cage. Then the big door at 
 one end was fastened so that it would stay wide open. 
 Any mouse that smelled that lovely toasted cheese 
 could walk right In and help himself; but just as soon 
 as he stood up on his hind legs and began to nibble at 
 the cheese, bang! would go the door behind him, and 
 he would find himself shut in tight. 
 
 The next morning Harry was the first one up. He 
 waked Ruth, and together they crept quietly down- 
 stairs and to the pantry before Mary, the maid, was out 
 of bed. 
 
 As they pushed open the pantry door, they saw some- 
 thing that made them both cry out in wonder. The door 
 of the wire cage was closed, and inside was, not one 
 mouse, but seven. 
 
 There was one big mouse, and cuddled close up to 
 
no UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 her were six small mice children that had followed their 
 mother into the cage. She had not even nibbled the 
 cheese until they were all safely inside. 
 
 Strangest of all, the little family was curled up in a 
 beautiful nest, made of bits of paper and small pieces 
 of string and hairs and a few small rags, all nicely 
 woven together into a little round bed, as soft and warm 
 as anyone could wish. 
 
 Where could that nest have come from.? When the 
 trap was set the night before there had not been any- 
 thing in it but the piece of cheese, that was now half- 
 eaten. Not even the little baby mice could get out. 
 Who could have brought in the things the nest was 
 made of.? The children could not tell. After breakfast 
 Mr. Arnold said he was going to try to find out. ' 
 
 He first took the cage back to the pantry and set it 
 down on the floor, just where it had been all night. 
 He left the pantry door open a little way, and placing 
 a chair outside, in the kitchen, he sat down where he 
 could see the cage all the time; and he told Harry that 
 if he would promise not to move once, or even to whis- 
 per, he could stay with him. 
 
 For a long time they saw nothing except the mother 
 mouse and her babies in the trap. Then all at once a 
 small gray shadow crept out from a corner and ran to 
 the cage. It was another mouse; and in his mouth he 
 carried a little rag. 
 
 When he reached the cage there was a great squeal- 
 ing. He stood up on his hind legs and pushed the rag 
 
THE CAPTIVES in 
 
 through the bars, and the mouse inside ran over to 
 him and took the rag and ran back to her nest and pat- 
 ted the rag into place in the wall. 
 
 Three times he came. The second time he brought a 
 little bit of cotton, and afterward a small piece of string 
 and all those things the mother mouse took when he 
 pushed them into the cage, and used them to make the 
 nest warmer. 
 
 "Now, children," Mr. Arnold said, "what shall we do 
 with this family of mice ? We can't have them running 
 round in the pantry, eating and spoiling our food." 
 
 "Oh, father, I know what I should like to do with 
 them," said Harry. "I should like to take them away 
 off somewhere, in the woods, and let them go." 
 
 And that was what they did. The cage was taken to 
 a sunny place at the far end of the garden. There the 
 door was opened and the children went away. When 
 they came back, the cage was empty. Mrs. Mouse had 
 moved her little family to the country. 
 
On the Old Wharf 
 
 FOR a boy who lives most of the year away from 
 the sea, the Httle town of Bayhead is a fine place 
 to spend the summer. There is always something 
 to do there. When it is pleasant, you can dig clams or 
 go crabbing, or fish ofi" the end of the old wharf. When 
 it rains, you can go up into Captain Billy's sail-loft and 
 watch him sew with a funny big thimble held in the 
 palm of his hand; or you can sit in Captain Benny's 
 shop and see him build boats while he tells stories. 
 
 To Walter Manly the rainy days were almost as 
 happy as the pleasant ones, for he liked both Captain 
 Billy and Captain Benny, and was always glad to be 
 with them. The two old men were brothers. Both had 
 been sailors all their lives, and for many years had 
 hunted whales in the south seas. Captain Billy had 
 only one leg, and had to use a crutch when he walked. 
 
 Walter had wondered a good many times how Cap- 
 tain Billy had lost his leg, but of course he did not like 
 to ask him. But knowing that he and Captain Benny 
 were brothers, he felt that he might ask Captain Benny. 
 So one rainy day, when he and Thornton Hadley were 
 in the boat-shop, he put the question. 
 
 "How did Captain Billy lose his leg?" the captain 
 repeated after Walter. "Why, the bight of a rope took 
 it off." 
 
ON THE OLD WHARF 113 
 
 "The bite of a rope!" cried Walter. "How could a 
 rope bite a man's leg off? I guess you are making fun of 
 me, captain." 
 
 "No, no, my boy. It was the bight of a rope, but not 
 th« kind you are thinking of." 
 
 " But what is it .'' " asked the boys. 
 
 "A bight is a loop, and it is a thing a sailor is always 
 afraid of, and a whaler, especially." 
 
 And th«n the captain took a rope and showed them 
 what he meant. He told them about hunting whales : 
 how the small boats leave the ship, and the men row 
 quietly up to the whale until they are near enough for 
 the man in the bow to throw the harpoon into the 
 whale. He showed them a harpoon, which is a short 
 iron spear with a long, fine rope fastened to it; and he 
 told them how careful the men must be to see that the 
 rope is coiled just right in the tub at the bow of the 
 boat, because when the whale feels the harpoon, he 
 usually dives and goes down so fast that the rope some- 
 times makes the edge of the tub smoke. If the rope is 
 not coiled just right, it may catch when it runs out, and 
 the whole boat be dragged under the water. And if a 
 man happens to get his foot or his leg caught in a loop 
 of the rope, he may be pulled overboard, or his leg cut 
 off. 
 
 That was what had happened to Captain Billy. A 
 careless sailor had let the rope get kinked, and a loop 
 had caught round Captain Billy's leg and pulled him 
 over. 
 
114 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 He was carried down, down, down, and might never 
 have come up if Captain Benny, who was in the same 
 boat, had not grabbed a hatchet and cut the rope. Cap- 
 tain Billy rose to the top of the water at last, and the 
 men got him into the boat; but his leg was so badly cut 
 that it had to be taken off. 
 
 Both Walter and Thornton thought they would re- 
 member the captain's story; but a week later, when they 
 were fishing from the end of the old wharf, something 
 happened that made them forget. 
 
 They were fishing for flounders with Ned Pierce, 
 who lives all the year in Bayhead. The captain had 
 helped them bait their hooks, and was watching them, 
 when Walter suddenly had a great tug on his line — so 
 hard that he nearly lost his hold on it. When he pulled, 
 the head of a big fish came to the top of the water. 
 "Oh, what is it? What is it?" cried the boys. 
 
 "It's a dogfish!" shouted the captain. "Hold hard, 
 now! There must be a school of them." 
 
 Walter had been lying flat on the wharf, but in his 
 eagerness to land his big fish, he stood up and stepped 
 nearer the edge, and gave a hard pull. The pull must 
 have sunk the hook deeper in the fish's mouth, for he, 
 too, gave a great pull to get away. Walter stepped 
 ahead one step more, without seeing where he put his 
 foot. The next moment he felt himself falling. Some- 
 thing had pulled his right leg out from under him, and 
 in another instant he went with a great splash into the 
 water. 
 
ON THE OLD WHARF 115 
 
 The next he knew his head was just above the water, 
 while something sharp and cold was gripping him 
 through his clothe-s, between the shoulders. It was 
 the captain's boat-hook, and by the long pole which 
 made the handle of it the captain was holding him up. 
 Ned and Thornton ran down the steps and pushed out 
 in a boat, and in a few minutes had him on board, a 
 good deal frightened. 
 
 "There, my boy," said Captain Benny, when Walter 
 was safe on land again, "you see now what I meant 
 when I told you to look out for the bight of a line. You 
 stepped in the bight of your fish-line, and your fish 
 pulled you off your feet. If It had been a whale, we 
 should not have got you so easily. Next time you must 
 be more careful with your line." 
 
Uncle Dan's Bear Story 
 
 "'TT TELL," said Uncle Dan, when the children 
 \\ teased for a story, " since you all want some- 
 thing different, I think I shall have to decide 
 myself. How would you like to have me tell you about 
 a bear that has frightened more people than any other 
 in the world, and that frightened me lots and lots 
 of times?" 
 
 "O-o-o-o! Goody!" cried all of them together. 
 
 "It's about a grizzly bear," said Lyman. 
 
 "No, a polar bear," guessed Lizzie. 
 
 "I think it's a- cinnamon bear," declared Bob. 
 
 Uncle Dan laughed. "No," he said, "it is n't any 
 one of those bears. It's a kind of bear you never heard 
 of — a bear that has very strange habits, and is dif- 
 ferent from any other bear in the world. 
 
 "In the first place, this bear is found all over the 
 country, not only in wild places in the woods and moun- 
 tains, but even more often near log houses and little 
 villages, and especially about old pastures where you go 
 to drive the cows in the morning and to get them again 
 at night. 
 
 "The strangest thing about this kind of bear is that 
 you never see him in the daytime or in the morning, but 
 only when it has begun to get dark a little at evening, 
 and on nights when there is just a tiny bit of moon. 
 
UNCLE DAN'S BEAR STORY 117 
 
 "When I was a boy, I had to take my father's cows 
 to pasture every morning and go after them every night. 
 I never met one of these bears in the morning, but some- 
 times I would see three or four in a single evening, and 
 they would frighten me so that I would run all the way 
 home." 
 
 "Did they chase you, Uncle Dan, or did you shoot 
 them, or scare them away.^*" 
 
 "No, dear, I don't think any of them ever chased 
 me, though I ran too hard to see; and I am sure I never 
 shot one, partly because I had no gun with me then, and 
 partly because this kind of a bear is so hard and tough 
 that a bullet does n't hurt him at all; nor can you scare 
 him away. He will not run from anybody, no matter 
 how much you shout or how loud a noise your gun 
 makes. He just stays right there." 
 
 "How big are they, and what color?" asked Lyman, 
 whose eyes were round with interest and excitement. 
 
 "They are of all sizes," said Uncle Dan; "sometimes 
 not any larger than a Newfoundland dog, sometimes as 
 tall as a big man; but they are always dark-colored, 
 almost black, and they are always standing very still. 
 The place where you are most likely to see them is in 
 the shadows near trees, and in fence-corners, and along 
 the edges of old pastures." 
 
 "Well, but, Uncle Dan," began Rob, eagerly, "if 
 you can't shoot them and can't drive them away, what 
 can you do with that kind of bears.? Do you always 
 have to run away from them? I think that is cowardly." 
 
ii8 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 "No, my boy," answered Uncle Dan, with a smile, 
 "there is another way. If you are brave enough to go 
 right up to one of these bears and touch him with your 
 hand, he will never hurt you, but will disappear at 
 once — so quickly that you can't see him go. That is 
 the only thing to do, but I did n't find it out for a long 
 time — until I was almost grown up." 
 
 "But what is this strange bear?" asked Lizzie, with a 
 puzzled look on her face. "What is the name of it.''" 
 
 "Why, they call it the stump bear," answered Uncle 
 Dan; "and, as I said, he has frightened more persons, 
 especially small boys and girls, than any other kind of 
 animal." And Uncle Dan laughed. 
 
 For a second the children did not know what to think. 
 Then Lizzie burst into a joyous laugh. " I know what it 
 is!" she cried. "It isn't a bear at all! It's just an 
 old stump that you think is a bear, like that one near the 
 spring, up at grandpa's!" 
 
 "Yes," admitted Uncle Dan, "that is what I meant. 
 I knew you had seen them, too!" 
 
A- Pioneer's Thanksgiving 
 
 WHEN Thanksgiving comes round, the Lowden 
 family always come together in the old home- 
 stead, where Grandfather and Grandmother 
 Lowden still live. It is a large family, with many sons 
 and daughters, and grandsons and granddaughters, too; 
 and it is widely scattered. Some of the members live in 
 cities, sorae in the country; but wherever they are, when 
 the great day comes, they go back to the old farm. 
 And when they have eaten the big dinner, all except 
 the nuts and raisins, some one of the children is sure to 
 say, "Now, grandfather, the story!" And grandfather 
 laughs, and says, " Pooh ! You have all heard that story 
 till you know it by heart." But they say no. They have 
 forgotten just how it happened, or they do not remem- 
 ber what it was that the Indian did ; and so at last grand- 
 father says, "Well, if you must have it, here it is"; 
 and then he tells this story. 
 
 " I was a boy then, twelve years old, and my sister 
 Ellen was only fourteen. Father had come into the wil- 
 derness and started to clear this farm when I was three 
 years old. He had built a log house and a log stable, 
 and had cleared enough land to raise good crops of 
 wheat, corn, potatoes, and other vegetables. Neighbors 
 had taken up land below us, and there was one family 
 above, but the nearest house was a mile away. The 
 
I20 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 log cabin that we lived in stood right where this house 
 stands. Father put it here because of the fine spring of 
 water. 
 
 "We had had a good summer that year, and the little 
 hole under the house that we called a cellar was full of 
 vegetables and the stable packed with grain. From the 
 beams of the kitchen hung hams and bacon from our 
 own hogs, and long strips of pumpkin were drying. By 
 Thanksgiving time everything was ready for the winter, 
 even to the great banking of dry leaves round the house, 
 to keep it warm. 
 
 "The day before Thanksgiving mother had been 
 making soap in the great iron kettle hung over a fire 
 outdoors. In the middle of the night we were all awak- 
 ened by the barking of old Ben, our dog; and when I sat 
 up in bed, I saw that the room was as light as day. For 
 a moment I could n't tell what the matter was, but it 
 did n't take long to see that the house was on fire. One 
 end was already burning fiercely, and the blaze was 
 leaping higher every minute. It had started outside. 
 Probably the embers of the soap-making fire had come 
 to life in the night wind, and blown into the banking 
 of leaves. 
 
 "Father had just time to snatch. blankets from the 
 beds and wrap them round my mother and my sister 
 and me, and hurry us out into the cold night. It was 
 useless to try to save, the house. The only water was 
 that in the spring, and there were only two or three 
 pails to carry it in, We did what we could, but the fire 
 
A PIONEER'S THANKSGIVING 121 
 
 soon drove us back, and in a little while the house was 
 only a pile of glowing coals. 
 
 "We had been so busy watching and fighting the 
 fire that we had given no thought to the stable, which 
 was behind us; but by and by I heard a crackling, and 
 looked, and saw the roof all ablaze. Father and I got 
 out the two horses and the cow, but the building we 
 could not save. And so, on Thanksgiving morning, we 
 stood, wrapped in blankets, with neither a roof over our 
 heads nor any food. My mother and my sister were cry- 
 ing, but my father spoke only once, and said, 'The Lord 
 will provide.' 
 
 "It was just getting light enough in the morning to 
 see, when out of the woods behind the spot where the 
 house had stood, a figure came. I could not see who it 
 was, except that it was a man, and that he had some- 
 thing on his back. He walked straight up to where we 
 stood, and threw down in front of us the load he was 
 carrying. 
 
 "Then we saw that it was old Sebattis, an Indian 
 whom father had found lying with a broken leg beside 
 the trail a year or two before. He had brought him home 
 and set the leg, and kept him till he was able to travel 
 again. The load that he had thrown down was a hind 
 quarter of venison and six partridges and about a peck 
 of parched corn in a little sack. While we all stared at 
 him, the old man straightened up, and said, 'How! 
 Sebattis see fire and know, so he come. By and by come 
 again,' Then he turned and went back into the woods, 
 
122 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 "That was the finest Thanksgiving that I ever re- 
 member, and the best dinner. We cut sUces from the 
 venison and broiled them over a fire built against the 
 big rock out here in the yard. The partridges father 
 rolled in soft clay, till the clay covered them all over, 
 and then baked them in the ashes. When he raked them 
 out and cracked open the balls of clay, each one 
 contained a bird that was cooked as tender and juicy 
 as any that your grandmother can cook in the oven of 
 the range. The parched corn we ate for dessert. 
 
 "All those things I remember, but best of all I re- 
 member what father said when we sat down to eat. He 
 told us what the day meant, and how thankful we 
 should be. And then he made a prayer of thanksgiving 
 that was the most beautiful that I ever heard. 
 
 "The Lord did provide, as father said He would. 
 Neighbors came from far and near, — ■ some of them 
 fifteen miles, — and before the snow flew they had 
 helped us put up another log cabin, and had filled it 
 with provisions; and the next year father built this 
 house." 
 
Pedro's Wooden Leg 
 
 ALTHOUGH it was a bright, sunny afternoon, and 
 vacation-time, Johnnie Coleman looked very 
 unhappy as he leaned against the orchard wall. 
 He wanted to be out with the other boys, who were 
 playing ball on the corner, but his mother had asked 
 him to wait and take his sister Ruth out in the baby- 
 carriage. 
 
 There were some smooth, round stones beside the 
 wall, and to show how badly he felt, Johnnie began to 
 throw them at a basket Hiram had left hanging on the 
 Baldwin tree. Just then Pedro, Johnnie's pet rooster, 
 flew up on the wall. Pedro was very white, and against 
 the dark shade of the apple trees he made a fine mark. 
 
 "Guess I '11 see if I can make him jump," said Johnnie 
 to himself. With that, he let fly the stone he had in his 
 hand, and the next thing he knew, Pedro fell over with a 
 great flapping of wings, and squawked so loud that Mrs. 
 Coleman came out to see what was the matter. 
 
 With terror in his heart Johnnie ran along by the wall. 
 As he drew near, he saw that Pedro could not stand up. 
 One of his legs hung limp and helpless, and there was 
 an ugly hole where a little blood had already begun to 
 show. 
 
 Johnnie gathered the chicken up in his arms and ran 
 to the house. "Will he die?" he asked anxiously of his 
 
124 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 mother. "See, his leg is all wobbly, and he can't stand 
 up!" 
 
 "I cannot tell, my dear, whether he will die or not," 
 said his mother. "He is badly hurt. I did not think my 
 son could be so cruel." 
 
 "But I did n't mean to hit him, mother! Honest, I 
 did n't!" protested Johnnie. "Could n't a doctor cure 
 him?" 
 
 "Perhaps so. You had better ask Dr. Williams." 
 
 The doctor looked very grave when Johnnie appeared 
 with Pedro in his arms. He wiggled the broken leg back 
 and forth, and said, "Large, contused wound and frac- 
 ture of the tibia. Pretty serious case. Did you wish me 
 to operate.?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir, please, if you can!'.' said Johnnie. 
 
 The doctor went into another room and very soon 
 returned with a new shingle. From it he split some long 
 pieces which he shaved thin and smooth with his knife. 
 While Johnnie held Pedro, the doctor washed the broken 
 leg and set the ends of the broken bone together. He 
 placed a bandage over the place where the stone had 
 hit, and put the strips of shingle, which he called splints, 
 all about the broken leg. Then he wrapped the whole 
 with strong tape to keep the splints in place. 
 
 When he set Pedro down on the floor, Johnnie was 
 delighted to see that the rooster could stand as well as 
 ever. 
 
 During the next two weeks Johnnie and all his friends 
 spent much time watching "the rooster with the wooden 
 
During the next two weeks Johnnie and all his friends spent much 
 time watching the rooster with the wooden leg. 
 
126 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 leg." Pedro stumped about the yard as if nothing had 
 happened. He Hmped a Httle at first, and sometimes fell 
 over if he started suddenly to run; but when Johnnie 
 called him, he came stumping along as fast as he could, 
 just as he used to before he was hurt; and Johnnie was 
 glad of that, because, he said, it made him feel that 
 Pedro had forgiven him. 
 
 When the time came, Johnnie took off the bandages 
 and splints, as the doctor had told him to do. The leg 
 was all well, and only a small scar remained. Johnnie 
 felt so happy then that he thought for a moment of 
 throwing a large stone at Mrs. Dana's cat, which was 
 asleep under the cherry tree In the next yard. 
 
 But a few days later the postman brought Johnnie a 
 letter. It contained a slip of paper, which read like this: 
 
 Master John Coleman, 
 
 To Dr. Charles F. Williams, Dr. 
 
 To Professional Services . . . $3.00 
 
 "What does it mean, mother.?" asked Johnnie. 
 
 "Why, it means that you owe Doctor Williams three 
 dollars," she said, "and this is the polite way of asking 
 you to pay him." 
 
 "But how can I pay him when I haven't any money.?" 
 said Johnnie. 
 
 "But, my dear boy, you asked him to set Pedro's leg 
 for you, and of course a gentleman would not ask an- 
 other person to work for him unless he intended to pay 
 him. You must ask papa about it." 
 
PEDRO'S WOODEN LEG 127 
 
 Johnnie's father told him the same thing, nor did he 
 offer to give Johnnie the three dollars. But after a little 
 while he said that he had been thinking of hiring a boy 
 to rake up the dead leaves and to help Hiram gather the 
 early apples. He should be willing to pay a boy twenty- 
 five cents a day for such work. 
 
 "Can't I do it? Will you pay me twenty-five cents a 
 day if I do it.'"' asked Johnnie, eagerly. 
 
 And his father said yes. 
 
 It took two long weeks to earn the three dollars, and 
 every day Johnnie could hear the boys laughing and 
 shouting down at the corner. 
 
 But when finally the last twenty-five cent pieces had 
 been earned and paid over to the doctor, instead of going 
 at once to play with the boys, as he had meant to, 
 Johnnie sat down on the doorstep and thought a long 
 time. 
 
"Old Mustard" 
 
 WHEN Grandmother Lane was a little girl, her 
 father came in one day and said, "Wife, it is 
 all settled at last. I have sold the farm. Next 
 week we will start West. There is a large company go- 
 ing from here, and we must try to get ready to go with 
 them." 
 
 Little Mary, as grandmother was then called, heard 
 the news with great delight, because she knew it would 
 mean a long, long journey, lasting months, and carrying 
 them into a new country, where there was never any 
 cold weather, and where great crops could be raised 
 without much hard work, and there would always be 
 plenty to eat. Besides, her family was not going alone, 
 but many other families whom they knew were going at 
 the same time, so that she would have some of her play- 
 mates with her all the way. 
 
 It was a wonderful sight when the great day came at 
 last, and the long wagon-train set out. In all there were 
 more than forty wagons, some drawn by four or six 
 horses, and some by as many as eight big oxen. And 
 such strange wagons ! They were more like little houses 
 on wheels, only instead of a roof there was a high frame 
 overhead made of hoops, and covered with canvas, so 
 that it made a sort of tent to ride in by day, if you 
 wished, and to sleep in at night. And from the hoops 
 
"OLD MUSTARD" 129 
 
 hung all sorts of things — hams and pieces of bacon, 
 strips of dried pumpkin, pans to cook in, and clothes. 
 Underneath the big wagon, outside, swung the great 
 kettles, in which the larger things were cooked, and 
 axes, and ropes and chains for pulling the wagons out 
 when they got stuck in the mud. 
 
 To little Mary it was all new and delightful. The big 
 wagons squeaked and groaned and swayed from side to 
 side till the hams hanging from the frame overhead 
 would swing back and forth like the pendulum of a 
 clock. There were the shouts of the men to the horses 
 and oxen, the barking of the dogs that ran along the side 
 of the trail, the sharp cracking of the drivers' whips, 
 and the ting-tang of the iron kettles swinging against one 
 another. And always they were passing through places 
 that were new and seeing things that were fresh and 
 strange. 
 
 The wagon of Mr. Harding — that was grandmother's 
 father — was drawn by four oxen, but one of them, 
 known as Jerry, began to show signs of sickness when 
 they had been on the road a few days. The men gave 
 him medicine and doctored him all they could, but he 
 seemed to grow weaker all the time instead of better, 
 and one morning, when they went to yoke the oxen to 
 the wagon, they found him dead. 
 
 For a day or two they went on with only three oxen. 
 Then Mr. Harding met a trader who was willing to sell 
 him a pet ox that he called "Old Mustard," to take the 
 place of Jerry. 
 
I30 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 It was a very funny-looking ox, indeed, not like any 
 that Mary or anybody in her family had ever seen be- 
 fore. He had a very large, round head, with shaggy hair 
 matted on top, and on his back was a large hump. In 
 color he was a dirty yellow all over. That is why the 
 trader called him Mustard. 
 
 "He is n't very pretty," said the trader, "but he is 
 strong and good-natured, and will pull more than any 
 ox of his size that I ever saw. Besides, he will get on with 
 less grass and less water. He is half-buffalo — he shows 
 it in his head and shoulders. For that reason he will be 
 worth more to you than any sc6ut or watch-dog; he can 
 smell Indians a mile away, and will fight them at sight." 
 
 Mr. Harding did not quite like to buy so strange an 
 animal, but he must get another ox somewhere, and so 
 he took Old Mustard. 
 
 By the end of the first day he was very glad he- had 
 done so, for the funny-looking yellow creature took its 
 place at the tongue of the cart and pulled steadily and 
 well. And every day after that Old Mustard worked 
 faithfully, and seemed never to be sick or to feel tired. 
 
 By the end of the fourth week the wagon-train had 
 entered a country where the Indians were known to be 
 on the war-path, and trouble was expected. They even - 
 found the remains of three partly burned wagons. 
 
 Great care was now taken to send scouts ahead during 
 the day and to prepare the camp for defense at night. 
 
 The first thing that was done as soon as the stop was 
 made for the night was to "park" all the wagons, as 
 
"OLD MUSTARD" 131 
 
 they called it. The big ox-carts were placed in a great 
 circle and chained one to another. Sometimes the cattle 
 were picketed outside, to graze, with men armed with 
 guns to watch them, and sometimes they were driven 
 inside. But always the camp-fires were built in the cir- 
 cle, and round them the different families gathered to 
 cook and eat their supper. 
 
 One night, when the wagons had been parked and 
 everyone had eaten supper and gone to sleep. Old Mus- 
 tard began to act very strangely. At first he tossed his 
 head and blew hard through his nostrils; then he began 
 to move about uneasily as far as his rope would let him, 
 and to snort and paw the ground. When one of the 
 guards went near him, he turned upon him a pair of eyes 
 that were bright green and shiny. 
 
 At last Mr. Harding happened to think what the 
 trader had told him. 
 
 "Do you suppose it can be that he scents Indians.'"' 
 he asked one of the other men. 
 
 "It may be," he said. "It is sure that he is excited 
 over something. Perhaps we had better be on the safe 
 side and wake the men." 
 
 Quietly Mr. Harding went from wagon to wagon, 
 rousing the sleepers. He had hardly finished when Old 
 Mustard, with a terrible roar, snapped the rope that 
 held him, dashed to the edge of the circle, leaped a cart- 
 tongue, and thundered away into the darkness. Almost 
 instantly there came a scream and then the rushing 
 charge of Indian riders. 
 
132 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 They were met by the men of the party, now all pre- 
 pared for them and protected by the circle of wagons. 
 And finding that their attack had been discovered too 
 soon, the Indians drew off after the first rush. 
 
 By the earliest flush of daylight a searching party 
 went out from camp. It came upon Old Mustard graz- 
 ing about, and not far away lay an Indian trampled into 
 the dust. The Indian was the foremost of the band, that 
 was quietly creeping up on the camp when Old Mustard 
 had scented them, and had not only given warning, but 
 surprised and killed the leader. 
 
A Good Lesson 
 
 AS Bessie sat playing with her doll on the shady 
 piazza, there came a thump ! thump ! thump ! on 
 the walk that led up to the front door. Looking 
 toward the gate, she saw a little old lady walking with a 
 cane. 
 
 The old lady climbed the steps to the screen door, but 
 before she could open it, she had to set down a little 
 basket that she carried in one hand. Then she held the 
 door open with her cane, and picked up the basket and 
 passed in. 
 
 Bessie went on playing with her doll, and in a moment 
 her mother, too, came up the steps, for she had been in 
 the garden. 
 
 The old lady was a great friend of Bessie's grand- 
 mother. She had brought a basket of cherries, and she 
 and Bessie and Bessie's mother all had tea together on 
 the piazza. When the friend rose to go, Bessie sat look- 
 ing at her, and made no move to open the door for her, 
 but let her mother do it. 
 
 When she had gone, Bessie's mother said, rather sadly, 
 "I am sorry my little girl is so rude. I thought she had 
 better manners." 
 
 "Why, mother, I did n't do anything impolite, did I.'' 
 I did n't do anything at all." 
 
 "No, my dear. That is the trouble. You did n't do 
 
A-nd then the little girl made a curtsey and said, "I only wish 
 sir, that it was to let you in." 
 
A GOOD LESSON 135 
 
 anything when you should have done much. More than 
 a hundred years ago there was a little girl in the South 
 about your age. She had the same kind of a chance to 
 be polite that you had just now, and she did such a 
 pretty thing, and did it so well, that she has been remem- 
 bered for it ever since, and people in the South still tell 
 about it, although even the little girl's name has been 
 forgotten." 
 
 "Oh, tell me about her!" cried Bessie. 
 
 "Well, it is a very short story. She was the daughter 
 of a lady who was a great friend of General George 
 Washington, and one day she was in the room with her 
 mother when the general called. She sat there till he 
 rose to go; then she got up and held the door open for 
 him to pass out. As he reached the door, he bowed to 
 her, and said, 'My dear, I am sorry to make you so 
 much trouble.' 
 
 "And then the little girl made a curtsey, — a stiff 
 little bow that every child of that time learned to make, 
 — and said, 'I only wish, sir, that it was to let you in.' 
 
 " It was a lovely speech for any child to make, but the 
 feeling that made her say it was lovelier still." 
 
How Grant Earned His Calf 
 
 GRANT NORCROSS had come with his father 
 and mother to spend a month in Tilton on his 
 grandfather's farm. 
 
 Strange sounds met his ears on the first morning. 
 The roosters waked him. From the edge of the woods a 
 crow was caUing, and somewhere near the barn a cow 
 was bellowing at the top of her voice. Close under the 
 window was still another noise that Grant could not 
 quite make out until he got up. Then he saw that on 
 the other side of the orchard wall there was a calf tied to 
 an iron stake driven into the ground. Every time the 
 cow called, the calf tried to answer. What the cow said 
 was hard to understand, but what the calf said was, 
 "Ma-a, when will breakfast be ready?" 
 
 Grant hurried down to the yard to see his grandfather 
 feed the stock. His two cousins, boys about his own age, 
 were already up and busy at the milking. 
 
 "Why does the cow keep making such a noise.'"' 
 asked Grant. 
 
 "Because I've just taken her calf away from her," 
 his grandfather answered. "We have got to teach the 
 calf to drink." 
 
 "Can't I do it.?" 
 
 His two cousins, George and Frank, laughed, and 
 even his grandfather smiled. " I 'm afraid you would n't 
 
HOW GRANT EARNED HIS CALF 137 
 
 find it a very easy job, or a very pleasant one, at first," 
 he answered. "It takes a great deal of patience and not 
 a little grit." 
 
 " But I can be patient, and I know I 've got grit. Do 
 let me try, grandfather." 
 
 The old man turned a kindly eye on Grant's eager 
 face. There was something about it that he liked — a 
 good, clean chin and a well-shaped mouth. "Well," he 
 said, at length, " I '11 tell you what I will do. If you can 
 teach the calf to drink without beating her or losing 
 control of your temper, I will give her to you for your 
 own, to keep or to sell, or do anything else with that you 
 please." 
 
 Grant rushed joyfully into the house and asked his 
 grandmother to tell him what to do. The next morning 
 he got a milk-pail, put about two quarts of milk into it, 
 and started for the barn-yard. 
 
 "You had better put on an old apron!" his grand- 
 mother called; but that seemed too girlish, and Grant 
 kept on as if he had not heard. 
 
 The calf braced her feet stubbornly when he tried to 
 get her into the orchard. He set the pail down, and 
 called, "So, Boss! Here, Boss!" as he had heard his 
 cousins do. But the calf did not move. 
 
 Grant crept nearer. His grandmother had told him 
 not to be afraid ; that a calf was a gentle little creature 
 that would not bite, and could not hook, since she had 
 no horns. When he was within reach, he put the pail 
 under the calf's nose, dipped his finger in the milk, and 
 
138 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 placed it in the calf's mouth. He was half-afraid that 
 she would bite, after all. 
 
 But the calf did not bite. For a moment she did noth- 
 ing but hold Grant's finger. She stood with all four feet 
 spread wide apart, and her tail stood out straight like a 
 ramrod. Then the tail kinked up, the fore legs moved 
 back, and with a glad leap, the calf thrust half of her 
 head into the pail. • 
 
 The head came out white to the . eyes with milk. 
 Then, looking Grant square in the face, the calf blew 
 a mighty "Whoosh!" that completely spattered him 
 from head to foot. 
 
 Grant set the pail down to wipe the milk out of his 
 eyes, and hearing a low laugh, turned, and saw that the 
 whole family were watching him. 
 
 He dipped his finger again into the milk, and held it 
 toward the calf's mouth. This time it was the calf's hind 
 legs that moved. They went up into the air, and her 
 head went down, but only far enough to hit Grant fair 
 in the pit of the stomach and knock him flat on his back, 
 with the milk-pail on top. 
 
 When Grant went back to the house, his grandfather, 
 still laughing, said, "Well, my boy, going to give it up .f"' 
 
 "No, sir," said Grant. "I came after some more 
 milk." 
 
 It was not that day or the next, or even the first or the 
 second week, that Grant earned his calf. It took a long 
 time and cost much hard work. One day the calf stepped 
 in the pail, and sent all the milk splashing over Grant's 
 
HOW GRANT EARNED HIS CALF 139 
 
 feet and legs. Sometimes she would slap him across the 
 face with her tail, sometimes try to swallow his whole 
 hand, and at other times run round him two or three 
 times, until the chain bound both of them tight to the 
 iron stake. 
 
 Then one day the calf began to drink as soon as he 
 put the pail under her nose, and there was no more 
 trouble. 
 
 When he told his grandfather, the old gentleman said, 
 "Well, Grant, you have earned your calf. But you have 
 done something a great deal bigger." 
 
 "Why, grandpa, what do you mean.'"' 
 
 "'He that ruleth his spirit is better than he that 
 taketh a city,'" his grandfather answered. 
 
Johnnie's Bright Idea 
 
 TO each of the three Lawrence . boys Santa Claus 
 had brought a sled — to Joe a Httle one, to 
 Frank a middle-sized one, and to Henry a big 
 one. He had been good to the two Morrill boys also, for 
 he had brought sleds to both Charlie and Edward. But 
 he had forgotten to send any snow to go with the sleds. 
 For weeks the ground had been bare, and of course you 
 cannot do much with a sled on bare ground. 
 
 Every day the boys looked out of the window as soon 
 as they got up, but never a patch of white did they see; 
 until at last, one Friday morning, when the wind had 
 been howling all night, the boys looked out and saw 
 nothing but snow. There was a steady "tickle-tackle" 
 as the hard flakes struck the window panes and bounded 
 off. The roofs were like the sides of snow-covered moun- 
 tains; and as for the yard and the road outside, you 
 could not see them. But when Saturday morning came 
 the sun was shining. 
 
 By nine o'clock every one of the new sleds was out. 
 Some time before daylight the men had gone by with 
 the snow-plough. The sidewalks were ditches, with high 
 white walls on both sides. The road was another ditch, 
 with mountains of snow between it and the sidewalks. 
 It was just what the boys had been hoping for. 
 
 Tyler Street, where they usually coasted, was too 
 
JOHNNIE'S BRIGHT IDEA 141 
 
 short, and that was what made them think of Sargent's 
 hill. 
 
 Sargent's hill is almost as steep as Tyler Street, and 
 nearly three times as long, and most of the time no bet- 
 ter coasting place can be found; but just before the cold 
 weather set in, the men had come and dug a big ditch 
 across the lower end of it, and thrown the dirt up in a 
 great wall. Then the ground froze so hard that they 
 could not work any longer, and they had left both the 
 ditch and the wall; and beyond them no sled could pass. 
 The boys did not know about that until they went over 
 there, and even then they did not think much about it. 
 
 And so they started • — Charlie Morrill first; and after 
 him came his brother Edward, and then the Lawrence 
 boys, Johnnie Otis, and all the others. Down they went 
 in a long line, faster and faster, until the tears came into 
 their eyes, and they could hardly see to steer. 
 
 When Charlie Morrill saw the high wall of snow in 
 front of him, he put his feet down hard, and tried to 
 stop; but he was going faster than he thought, and be- 
 fore he could bring the sled to a standstill, he was on 
 top of the wall, and had almost fallen over into the ditch. 
 The others had the same trouble, and two of them were 
 going so fast that they buried their heads in the snow, 
 and had to roll off the sleds to keep from going over. 
 
 The next time it was just as bad, and the next time 
 after that; for the more sleds went down, the smoother 
 they wore the track, the faster they went, and the 
 harder it became to stop. 
 
142 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 It was then that Johnnie Otis had his bright idea. 
 
 "I tell you what we'll do," he said. "We'll all go 
 home and get clothes-lines. Then we can measure the 
 hill from the top to the bottom, and tie a sled to a line 
 just as long as the hill. Then we can't help stopping 
 before we get to the snowbank." 
 
 "That's great!" cried the boys, and five of them 
 started for their homes. In a little while they were all 
 back again, each with his mother's clothes-line. Johnnie 
 and Fred Hunt tied three of the lines together, and went 
 down to the foot of the hill and held one end. The other 
 boys pulled the rope tight, and tied the end of it to a 
 lamp-post at the top of the hill. Then they began to 
 haul it in and to coil it in a circle on the snow at one 
 side of the track. When Johnnie and Fred came back, 
 they fastened the other end of the rope to the biggest 
 sled, and three of the boys got on it and started. 
 
 Faster and faster they went. They knew that the 
 rope was shorter than the hill, and would stop the sled 
 before it reached the snowbank, and so of course they 
 did not put their feet down to stop it. 
 
 The boys at the top were watching. In front of them 
 the rope ran out of the coil like an endless snake. The 
 sled, slipping down the long hill, grew smaller and 
 smaller; then, as they looked, they saw it suddenly stop, 
 and above it three figures sailed through the air, like 
 frogs diving for deep water. Over the top of the bank 
 they disappeared in a cloud of snow, but the sled stopped 
 where it was. 
 
When the other hoys reached the foot of the hill, the three who had 
 gone down were sitting digging the snow from their ears and 
 the hacks of their necks. 
 
144 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 When the other boys reached the foot of the hill, the 
 three who had gone down were sitting on the top of the 
 bank, digging the snow from their ears and the backs of 
 their necks. 
 
 "What was the matter, Johnnie?" asked one of the 
 boys. 
 
 "Nothing," said Johnnie, sheepishly. "Only I should 
 have tied the rope to my leg instead of to the sled." 
 
The Little Red Workers 
 
 PAUL HOWE, with his sister Dorothy and their 
 father, was standing by the railway crossing, 
 waiting for a train to go by. The gates were 
 down, and from away up the track they could hear a 
 rattle and rumble that told them something was com- 
 ing. They wondered whether it would be a long, slow 
 freight train or a short, quick passenger train. But 
 round the curve came something that the children had 
 never seen before — a little car, just big enough to hold 
 two men, whose backs were moving up and down, up 
 and down, as if they were bowing to each other. As the 
 car went by, the children saw that between the two men 
 was a bar that first one pushed and then the other; and 
 that, as it went down on one side, it went up on the 
 other, and that that was what made the car go. 
 
 "It must be great fun!" said Paul. 
 
 But Dorothy thought that instead of being fun, it 
 must be hard work. 
 
 "It is both work and fun," said their father, "for 
 the right kind of work is the best fun in the world." 
 And he told them that the men, going up and down the 
 track every day, were all the time watching to see that 
 there were no broken rails or loose ties, and that thus 
 they helped to guard against train wrecks. 
 
 "It is a good work," he added, "and hard, but not so 
 
146 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 hard as that of the little red men who help to keep the 
 time of the world." 
 
 The children had never heard of those little red men, 
 and so, after dinner, their father told them the story. 
 
 "A long time ago," he said, "there were wise men 
 who were trying to build a factory to make time for all 
 the people. After a great deal of thought and work, 
 they did it. It was such a little factory that anyone 
 could carry it round in his pocket; and when he wanted 
 to know what time it was, all he had to do was to look 
 in at the factory window. 
 
 "They made wheels and chains and pulleys for the 
 factory, that would work day and night, year in and 
 year out, and never stop or get tired. But there was 
 one place in the factory that they found it hard to fill. 
 They wanted two men to move a big wheel back and 
 forth, without ever stopping. Of course, it was very hard 
 work, but the wise men said, 'Brass is hard and strong, 
 and we will try men of brass.' 
 
 "The men of brass worked as well as they could, but 
 it was too hard for them, and sooner or later they grew 
 tired and wore out, and the wise men had to get some- 
 one to take their place. 
 
 " 'Steel is stronger and harder than brass,' they said, 
 and so they tried men of steel; but they found in time 
 that even they could not do the work, but had to stop. 
 
 "And then came the little red men. They had always 
 lived all by themselves, deep in the ground in India; 
 and because they belonged to a very great and rich 
 
THE LITTLE RED WORKERS 147 
 
 family, had never in their lives done any work. But 
 now, when they learned what the wise men needed, they 
 came forth and offered themselves, and said, 'Try us. 
 We are stronger than brass and harder than steel, and 
 we never tire or wear out.' 
 
 "And so the wise men took them and tried them, and 
 set them at work in the factory. 
 
 "It was more than a hundred years ago that they 
 began to work there, but they are working still, and 
 show no signs of being tired. And during all that time 
 they have never stopped or rested ; but night and day, 
 through all those years, they have push-ed the big wheel 
 back and forth five times a second. They never sleep, 
 and they eat nothing except a little oil; and that they 
 get only once in a year and a half or two years. Up and 
 down, and up and down, and up and down, the little 
 red backs bob; and back and forth, and back and forth, 
 the big wheel spins. And the two little red men must 
 work always together, and always just so fast, and no 
 faster. One of the little red men is named Ruby, and the 
 other is named Sapphire. If you listen at the factory- 
 door, you can hear them at their work. And because 
 they are always working, we can always tell what time 
 it is." 
 
 And then he took his watch from his pocket, and held 
 it to the children's ears; and they heard the busy work- 
 ers. And when he opened the case, they looked in, and 
 saw the red backs bobbing up and down. 
 
The Dog that Danced 
 
 IT was Saturday, and so, of course, there was no 
 school. All the week the ice on the ponds had been 
 growing thicker and thicker, to the great joy of 
 the Conway boys, James and Arthur, and their friend 
 George Arnold; for their fathers had told them that, 
 if the ice was strong enough by Saturday, they might 
 skate down across Long Pond and go through the pass 
 to Big Island Lake. 
 
 It was found that the ice was thick enough, so about 
 ten o'clock they started. Their mothers had put up 
 luncheons for them, and the boys were going to build 
 a fire on the ice, near the shore, to keep warm while they 
 ate, and perhaps cook some bacon by sticking the slices 
 in the ends of split sticks, and holding them over the fire. 
 
 The ice was so clear that the boys-, by putting their 
 faces down close to it, could look through it as they 
 could through a pane of glass, and see things on the 
 bottom, near the shore, and dead leaves moving slowly 
 along toward the outlet. Once George saw a fish — a 
 big pickerel, as long as his arm. 
 
 By the time they reached the foot of Long Pond it 
 was nearly noon, and the boys were so hungry that 
 they decided to have their luncheon at once. They 
 wanted some dry wood to make the fire, so they all took 
 off their skates and laid them down on the ice by the 
 
THE DOG THAT DANCED 149 
 
 boxes of luncheon. Then they went back a little way 
 into the woods on the shore, for the sticks. 
 
 Each boy gathered a big armful — so big that it 
 stuck away up in the air in front of him and almost 
 kept him from seeing where he was going. But they 
 pushed their way through the bushes to the ice again, 
 and dropped the wood in a pile for their fire. 
 
 Just then they heard a crackling in the bushes. They 
 turned and saw a big, funny-looking dog coming out. 
 He was shaggy, and a kind of dirty brown in color; and 
 he had small eyes, very black, that twinkled, and a 
 sharp nose that kept quivering and wrinkling up. 
 
 When he saw the boys, he stopped a moment, and 
 put his nose up in the air and sniffed. Then he walked 
 slowly out on the ice toward the boys' luncheon. His 
 walk was ungainly. 
 
 "What a big dog he is!" said James; and indeed he 
 was — bigger than any the boys had ever seen before. 
 
 "And what a funny walk he has!" said George. 
 
 Then the other boys noticed it, too — a kind of roly- 
 poly, waddling walk, as if he were made of jelly, all 
 shaky. They had never seen a dog walk like that before. 
 
 The dog did not pay any attention to the boys, but 
 kept right on toward the lunch-boxes they had left on 
 the ice. He did not seem to be cross, and they went a 
 few steps toward him, and shouted and shook sticks at 
 him, which they took from the pile of wood. Then he 
 growled, but kept right on toward the luncheon. 
 
 "Throw your stick at him," said James to Arthur. 
 "Perhaps that will scare him." 
 
I50 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Arthur threw the stick, but as it whirled through the 
 air, the big dog suddenly stood up on his hind legs and 
 caught the stick in one of his paws, just as a boy will 
 catch a baseball bat that another boy tosses to him. 
 Then the boys were astonished and terrified to see him 
 begin to dance on his hind legs, moving in a circle, bal- 
 ancing the stick, swinging his head up and down, and 
 making a funny noise that was partly growl and partly 
 as if he were trying to sing when he had a bad cold. 
 
 "It's a bear! It's a bear!" cried George and Arthur 
 together; and getting James by the hand, they all three 
 started to run. 
 
 Now every boy knows how hard it is to run on ice 
 without skates. You keep slipping and sliding, and you 
 cannot turn quickly at all. Before the boys could reach 
 the shore, the bear, moving in a circle, had got between 
 them and the land, and in trying to turn, James slipped 
 and slid right ahead, toward the bear. He set up a 
 great cry, but George and Arthur did not let go of him, 
 although they, too, were very much frightened. 
 
 Then, all at once, there came a great shouting and 
 crashing in the bushes, and out popped a little man with 
 high boots and a red flannel shirt and a fur cap. His 
 eyes were big and black, and his hair curly, and in his 
 ears he had little rings of gold. He talked very loudly 
 to the bear, and seemed to be scolding him, but the 
 boys could not understand what he said. He walked 
 right up to the bear and slapped him twice across the 
 face with his hand. The bear whined, and began to 
 
All at once, there came a great shouting and crashing in the 
 bushes, and out popped a little man who talked very loudly 
 to the hear and seemed to he scolding him. 
 
IS2 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 dance all the faster. Then the little man took a big 
 collar from his pocket and strapped it round the bear's 
 neck, and began to lead him away by a rope. Just before 
 he went he turned to the boys and said, with a smile 
 that showed his white teeth, "Bad Beppo! Run away. 
 No like dance. Get cold, get seek." 
 
The Star in the Grass 
 
 IN a sunny opening in the woods a little group of chil- 
 dren were gathering wild flowers, when one of them 
 heard a rustling in the leaves behind him, and, 
 turning quickly, saw an old man standing there. 
 
 He was a strange-looking old man, and strangely 
 dressed. On his head was a wide-brimmed soft hat of 
 black, with a black and gold cord about it that ended in 
 two small tassels hanging over the edge in front. His 
 clothes were of dark blue, with brass buttons, and in the 
 lapel of the coat was a smaller button of copper. In his 
 right hand he carried a cane — just a plain stick, on 
 which were fresh green spots where little twigs had been 
 cut away; but he did not lean upon the stick, or use it 
 as a cane, but held it rather as a man would hold a sword. 
 He was very tall and straight, and there was a look of 
 command in his eyes, which were still clear and sharp 
 under his shaggy eyebrows; and that, with the long 
 white hair and the snowy beard, trimmed to a point on 
 the chin, made him a man that anyone would turn to 
 look at. 
 
 The boy beside whom he had stopped rose quickly 
 from the grass and looked up into his face, a little fright- 
 ened; but his fear melted away at once, for the face 
 lighted in a grave, sweet smile, and a deep voice said, 
 " It is good to be gathering wild flowers on such a day." 
 
154 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the boy; and at the sound of the 
 voices other children joined them, so that in a few min- 
 utes all of them were gathered round the stranger, who 
 had seated himself on a rock, with his back to a tree. 
 
 As the old man looked at them he smiled again and 
 said, "Yes, there are few things better than gathering 
 flowers on a day like this. I see that you have many 
 beautiful ones. Do you know the names of them?" 
 
 They pulled their nosegays apart and showed him 
 what they had — a few late violets, some little bell- 
 like yellow lilies, wild geraniums, buttercups, and here 
 and there a lady's-slipper. 
 
 "You have done well," said the old man, "but there 
 is one flower that you have not found, and that flower 
 is the loveliest and most wonderful in the whole world." 
 
 "What is it?" asked one of the little girls. 
 
 "It has many names, but I call it the Star in the 
 Grass." 
 
 "We never heard of it," said the children. "Does it 
 grow here?" 
 
 "It grows everywhere in this, our country, from the 
 warm south "to the far, cold north; but only in certain 
 places, and to find it you must know those places." 
 
 "Are there any here ? " asked one boy. 
 
 The old man shook his head. "Not in these woods, 
 but very near. You have only to cross the road and you 
 will come upon many, oh, so many, so many!" As he 
 repeated the words, he looked away over the heads of 
 the children, as if he did not see them. 
 
THE STAR IN THE GRASS 155 
 
 "Let us go and find them!" cried one of the older 
 boys; and some of the other children made as if to fol- 
 low him. 
 
 But the old man raised his hand. "No," he said, 
 " not yet. You would not know the flower if you saw it, 
 nor where to look for it. I must tell you." 
 
 He stopped a moment, and the children waited. Then 
 he went on, — . 
 
 "I have told you that it is the loveliest and most 
 wonderful flower in the world. There are many wonder- 
 ful flowers. Some blossom only once in a lifetime, so 
 that a man may live to be seventy years old and never 
 see one of them in bloom. Others open only at certain 
 hours of the day. One blossoms only in the night — you 
 must go without your sleep to see it; and there are some 
 that grow in wild and far-off places, but are so beautiful 
 that men gladly risk their lives to get them. 
 
 "But the Star in the Grass is more wonderful and 
 more beautiful even than they are, for, although it blos- 
 soms but once a year, it always blossoms on the same 
 day of the year, so that those who know and do not 
 forget can always be sure of finding it in bloom. North 
 or south, east or west, wherever in this great country 
 you may be on that day, there you will find the Star in 
 the Grass, and always you will find it covered with 
 blossoms. 
 
 "You will never know how much it cost to make that 
 flower grow upon our soil, but it was far more than any 
 other flower ever cost; for multitudes of men worked 
 
iS6 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 more than four years for it, and spent hundreds of mil- 
 Hons of dollars, and went cold, and were hungry and 
 bore pain and suffered the loss of legs and arms to win 
 it. And they did more, even, than that; for when they 
 found that even then they could not win it without 
 paying a still greater price, hundreds of thousands of 
 them paid the price and gave up their lives. 
 
 "There are flowers in the world that have strange 
 powers to take away the senses of men : to make them 
 mad or drowsy, or to fill them with a desire to do evil; 
 but the perfume of the Star in the Grass is not like that, 
 although it is even more powerful. Those who breathe 
 it are filled with courage and with love for their coun- 
 try, and their eyes are opened to the knowledge that 
 to die for their country is the greatest glory that can 
 come to anyone." 
 
 "But whose are those flowers now, that cost so much, 
 and where do they grow.'' We have never seen them," 
 said one of the children, as if he doubted the old man's 
 words. 
 
 "They are yours and mine. They belong to every one 
 of us who thinks enough of them to care for them; and 
 they grow where those who paid so much for them have 
 willed that they should grow. That is wherever a faith- 
 ful soldier sleeps. They mark the resting-place of no 
 coward, nor of anyone who did not give what he could." 
 
 The old man rose and looked smilingly down at the 
 children. "I must go now," he said, "for this is the day 
 when the Star in the Grass is heavy with its blossoms, 
 
THE STAR IN THE GRASS 157 
 
 and I like to look upon them, and to breathe their fra- 
 grance. Would you care to come?" 
 
 The children gathered their bunches of wild flowers 
 into their hands, and followed wonderingly and in si- 
 lence. When they had come out of the little wood and 
 had crossed the road, they passed, through high stone 
 gates, into a great and beautiful garden, where a band 
 was playing, and crowds of people were moving about, 
 and there were other old men in blue clothes and brass 
 buttons who hailed their guide as "Comrade." And 
 by and by the band and the old men began to march; 
 but every little while they stopped, and wherever they 
 stopped the children saw a little flag, and there indeed, 
 heaped all about it, were the blossoms of the Star in the 
 Grass. 
 
The Deer with a Red Tie 
 
 THE little girl had been sick, and the doctor said 
 she must go away — to the woods or the sea — 
 and stay a long time, perhaps a year. That is 
 why her father and mother took her to live on a great 
 farm a long way off. 
 
 It was after dark when they reached the farm, and 
 Bessie lay asleep in her mother's arms, for she was 
 very tired. All day they had ridden behind two horses, 
 through thick woods that came right up to the sides of 
 the wagon. 
 
 When the sun peeped in at the window the next morn- 
 ing, Bessie looked out on a new world. Instead of other 
 houses near by, she saw only wide fields and high moun- 
 tains, and all around the great green woods. 
 
 For many days she kept finding new things to enjoy. 
 There were the four horses, Billy and Ben and Silas and 
 old Jennie; and there were six cows, and one of them. 
 Spot, had a beautiful little red calf. Then there was a 
 small kitten, and a big yellow dog named Tige. Bessie 
 learned to know them all, and to think of them as 
 friends; but it was with the kitten and old Tige that she 
 played most. She liked to put the kitten on the dog's 
 back, and see him walk off, wagging his tail. It always 
 made her laugh to see how funny Tige would look when 
 the kitten would dig her claws into his back. He would 
 
THE DEER WITH A RED TIE 159 
 
 roll up his eyes and turn his head, as if he were saying, 
 "Well, what are you sticking pins into me for?" 
 
 But after a time Bessie grew tired of those playmates, 
 and began to wish that there was some other little girl 
 that she could play with, or that she had some pet of 
 her very own. 
 
 And then came the great fire. The air for days had 
 been full of smoke, and all the woods looked blue, and 
 the sun was a great golden-red ball. Men had come 
 from other farms and places far away, with buckets and 
 axes and blankets, to fight the fire. But all the time the 
 smoke was getting thicker and more choky, and at 
 night there were long, moving lines of red on the moun- 
 tain, like companies of men marching with torches. 
 
 On the third day, after the men had gone to fight the 
 fire, one of them came back with something on his 
 shoulder. Bessie ran out to see what it was, and the 
 man put into her arms a beautiful Httle spotted fawn. 
 It cried like a lamb, for it had lost its mother, and was 
 hungry. 
 
 As the man was going along a road through the woods, 
 he had heard a little bleating at one side, and when he 
 went to look, he had found the fawn lying under a bush. 
 Its mother had been driven away by the fire, and in try- 
 ing to follow her, the fawn had burned its feet so badly 
 that it could go no farther, and had lain down to die. 
 So the man put it on his shoulder and brought it to the 
 house, and gave it to Bessie for her own. 
 
 The first thing was to teach it to drink milk. That 
 
i6o UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 they did by rolling some linen rags into a little ball and 
 dipping it into warm milk and then giving it to the 
 fawn to suck. He learned quickly, and at the end of a 
 week would lap the milk from a dish; and because it was 
 Bessie who first fed him, he looked upon her as his mis- 
 tress and best friend, and would follow her anywhere. 
 
 They named him Teddie. At first he used to sleep in 
 the cow-shed; but as he grew bigger he wanted to be 
 outdoors all the time, and so he was shut up no more, 
 but wandered away in the woods whenever he pleased. 
 But every morning, early, he came to the farmhouse 
 door for the milk that he knew Bessie would get for him. 
 If the door was shut and she did not hear him, he would 
 bunt with his head until someone came; and one morn- 
 ing, when the door was open and his milk was warming 
 in the oven, he walked right in without knocking, and 
 went over to the stove and put his head in at the oven 
 door and began to drink his milk. 
 
 Even old Tige became fond of Teddie, although he 
 would chase other deer; and often you could see the 
 fawn closely cropping the fresh grass, while old Tige sat 
 watching him, as much as to say, " I 'm here, and I will 
 not let anyone hurt you." 
 
 By the time the cold weather came, Teddie had grown 
 big and strong, and his feet were so well that he could 
 walk as well as any other deer. And to Bessie the roses 
 of her cheeks had come back, and she, too, was well and 
 strong again, and was to go back to her old home. But 
 the last thing she did before she went away was to tie 
 
THE DEER WITH A RED TIE i6i 
 
 a red scarf firmly round Teddie's neck, so that no hunter 
 could mistake him for a wild deer and shoot him. And 
 some of the lumbermen who knew Bessie and her love 
 for her pet placed sign-boards along the roads near the 
 farm, on which they printed this: "Don't shoot the 
 deer with a red necktie. He is tame, and his name is 
 Teddie." 
 
The Battle 
 
 IN its winding hollows among the hills of the back 
 pasture the little pond stretches away, shady and 
 inviting. It is not a deep pond — nowhere over a 
 boy's head. 
 
 Such a pond is not to be found on every farm, and 
 when Fred and his cousin Lewis came out of the woods 
 path right at the edge of the water, of course they 
 wanted to stop and play. They had been there many 
 times before, and each of them had a raft which he had 
 built, and on which he used to pole himself about among 
 the islands. But this time they knew they ought not to 
 stop, for Grandfather Dixon wanted them to come up to 
 the back lot as soon as they had eaten their dinner, and 
 bring the box of tools that stood on the end of the bench 
 in the shop. 
 
 They had started early, and all the way had carried 
 the box, which was heavy. Perhaps that is why they 
 felt like stopping to rest a while when they reached the 
 shore of the pond. 
 
 "Let's go out just a little way on the rafts," said 
 Lewis. "We've got time enough." 
 
 "All right," said Fred, "but we mustn't go far or 
 stay long." 
 
 The boys put down the box of tools and started to- 
 ward the two rafts. Just a little way from the shore 
 
THE BATTLE 163 
 
 they came upon a peck measure, probably left there by 
 one of the men when he carried salt to the sheep. 
 
 "Oh, look!" cried Fred, as he picked it up. "What 
 a fine seat it will make!" And he carried it with him 
 and placed it bottom-up on his raft. 
 
 The two boys took their long poles and pushed out. 
 Lewis was a little ahead, and when he happened to look 
 back and saw the peck measure on Fred's raft, he began 
 to laugh. "It looks like the Monitor," he said. 
 
 Both boys had been reading about the wonderful 
 battle between the Monitor and the Merrimac; and 
 they remembered that at first someone had called the 
 Monitor "a cheese-box on a raft," because the flat deck 
 was so low, and there was hardly anything on it except 
 the turret, which was like a large round iron box. 
 
 "I tell you what!" cried Fred. "Let's play battle! 
 You be the Merrimac and I '11 be the Monitor. I '11 come 
 out from behind the island, and you can meet me, and 
 we will see which one can drive the other ashore." 
 
 Lewis agreed, and for a little while the boys chased 
 each other's rafts up and down the little pond, and 
 bunted them as hard as they could by setting their 
 poles deep in the mud and pushing with all their 
 strength. Then Lewis suddenly cried, "Let us make 
 some oars! It's a great chance, while we have the tools 
 here." 
 
 They went ashore and hunted about till they found 
 some small boards. With a hatchet from the tool-box 
 and their pocket-knives they soon made four small oars, 
 
i64 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 or paddles. By that time they had forgotten all about 
 their errand. Lewis put the tool-box on his raft for a 
 seat, and Fred had the peck measure, and they began 
 to row about the pond. Fred thought he saw a chance to 
 bunt the Merrimac in the side, and drive her ashore. 
 So he bent over his oars and pulled as hard and fast as 
 he could, without ever stopping to look over his shoulder. 
 
 All at once there was a dreadful thump — the two 
 rafts had come together, bang! and before they knew 
 what had happened, both boys had turned a somersault 
 and rolled head over heels off the rafts into the water. 
 
 It was only up to their shoulders, and they waded 
 through the mud to the shore. 
 
 Then they remembered their errand and how long 
 they had stopped, and were frightened when they 
 thought what their grandfather would say. Their 
 clothes felt awfully cold and sticky before they got the 
 heavy box up to the place where the men were working, 
 and they felt so ashamed that they could not say any- 
 thing when Grandfather Dixon asked them why they 
 were so late. But he looked at them and their dripping 
 clothes, and said, "Oh, I see! You have been hurrying 
 all the way! You must have been. Why, you are fairly 
 dripping with perspiration. Hurry home, now, just as 
 fast as you can go, and tell your grandmother I think 
 you must be sick, and I want her to put you to bed at 
 once." 
 
The Storehouse in the Wood 
 
 THE next time that Johnnie called on Uncle Zeb, 
 after they had found the sassafras tree, he came 
 upon the old man just as he was getting up from 
 the breakfast-table. It was plain that a part of his meal 
 had been bread and honey, for there was a little of the 
 honeycomb still left on the plate. Uncle Zeb politely 
 waved a hand toward the table and the honey, and said, 
 "Help yourself." 
 
 "Do you like it.?" he asked, as he watched the little 
 boy eat. 
 
 "Yes," said Johnnie, "I like honey better than any- 
 thing else in the world." 
 
 "Then perhaps you would like to help me get some." 
 
 "Where could we get it.^"" asked Johnnie. "I thought 
 the grocer brought it." 
 
 "You can get it at the grocer's if you have money to 
 pay for it; but we can get it without money, by knowing 
 how, and working for it. Besides, it will be better honey; 
 for what the grocer sells is tame honey, and what we 
 shall get will be wild honey, with the taste of many 
 flowers that do not grow in gardens." 
 
 With that. Uncle Zeb went to a closet and took out a 
 little box, in which he put a piece of the honeycomb; 
 and then they started. 
 
 Along the path round the fgot of the mountain they 
 
i66 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 went, until they reached a httle knoll that was bare of 
 trees. There Uncle Zeb took out the little box and set it 
 on a stump. Then he hunted round until he found two 
 stones that were rather soft and crumbly. Over the 
 cover of the box he rubbed the two stones together, 
 until the rubbing made a white powder that fell on the 
 box-cover. When there was a little heap of it, Uncle 
 Zeb sent Johnnie to the brook to fill his drinking-cup 
 with water; and while he was gone the old man chewed 
 a little twig of birch until it was flattened out like a 
 small paint-brush. 
 
 "Now," he said, "I think we are all ready." 
 
 Opening the little box, he laid a piece of the honey- 
 comb on the stump, and held a lighted match to it until 
 the comb began to smoke and scorch. Then he and 
 Johnnie lay down in the edge of the woods a little way 
 from the stump — to watch, as Uncle Zeb said. Johnnie 
 did not know what they were watching for; but, while he 
 was wondering, the old man touched his arm, and said, 
 "Look!" And Johnnie saw that a bee had lighted on 
 the comb and was helping herself to the honey. 
 
 Uncle Zeb rose quickly, and going quietly over to the 
 stump, took the little wooden brush he had made, wet it 
 in his mouth, dipped it into the white powder from the 
 two stones, and painted the body of the bee, who was 
 so eager to get the honey that she made no attempt to 
 fly away. Then, beckoning Johnnie to him, the old man 
 said, — 
 
 "In a minute or two now she will start for home. 
 You must watch sharp to see which way she goes." 
 
THE STOREHOUSE IN THE WOOD 167 
 
 Johnnie kept his eyes fixed on the bee. Sure enough, 
 in a little while she rose, circled round and round in the 
 air, as if to take note of everything about the place, in 
 order to be sure of finding the way back; then she struck 
 out straight for the big woods on the other side of 
 Thompson's Hollow. 
 
 Johnnie thought that they were to follow at once, 
 but the old naan said that they must wait until the 
 bee came back; and he took out his big silver watch and 
 began to count the minutes, — one, two, three, five, 
 eight, ten, twelve, — and there was the bee back again 
 — the same one, they were sure, for they could plainly 
 see the white belt that Uncle Zeb had painted on her 
 back. 
 
 "Her store of honey is about a mile away," said the 
 old man. "A bee takes about five minutes to fly a mile, 
 and she stays about two minutes in the hive. See the 
 big hemlock on the other side of the hollow? Keep it in 
 your eye. And now we will try again." 
 
 This time he took the box and the bit of honeycomb 
 and went farther along toward the big hemlock. There 
 he put the comb on a rock, and scorched it as before, 
 and waited. When a bee lighted on it, he painted her 
 as he had the first one, and then very carefully both he 
 and Johnnie watched to see where she would go. 
 
 When she rose, she started in the same direction that 
 the first one had taken. 
 
 "We know the road now," said the old man. "Let us 
 go ahead." 
 
i68 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Four times they set out the little bait of honey- 
 comb, and every time the bees came back quicker from 
 unloading their find of honey, until at last Uncle Zeb 
 said, — ■ 
 
 "We are getting very near. Look at all the big trees, 
 to see if you can find a little hole with bees going in or 
 coming out. Perhaps the under-side of the hole will show 
 a little yellow stain, where some of the honey has rubbed 
 off and run down." 
 
 And so they looked, until their necks ached, and John- 
 nie began to think there were no bees anywhere in the 
 woods; but just then he heard Uncle Zeb call, and run- 
 ning to the spot where he stood, he saw him pointing to 
 what looked like a little black knothole high up on an 
 old sugar maple, out of which a bee crawled every few 
 seconds. 
 
 "We have found it," said the old man. "From the 
 looks, I think there is plenty of honey — perhaps two or 
 three pailfuls, maybe a tubful. But we can get it best 
 at night. To-morrow, then, at sunset, you will come to 
 my house with a pair of overalls tied tight round your 
 ankles, and a pair of old loose gloves on your hands, 
 and a broad-brimmed hat on your head. Then we shall 
 see what the wild bees have gathered for us." 
 
Gathering the Treasure 
 
 UNCLE ZEB had told Johnnie to come about sun- 
 set, but he was ready half an hour before that 
 time. He had done as the old man had told him. 
 Over his short trousers he had put a pair of overalls 
 which came clear to the ground, and which he had to 
 turn up at the bottom to keep them from dragging. On 
 his head was a broad-brimmed straw hat with a high 
 crown, and in one of his pockets he had a pair of thick 
 gloves. 
 
 But the sun had not yet touched the top of Little 
 Whiteface, although it was near it, and so Johnnie sat 
 down to wait and watch. Lower and lower the golden 
 disk sank, until it touched the line of trees, and the 
 hungry mountain nibbled a little piece out of the lower 
 edge, just as Johnnie had often nibbled the edge of a 
 cooky; and even as he watched, the bite grew bigger 
 and the cooky smaller, until at last it was all bite, and 
 there was no cooky left, as usually happens when bites 
 and cookies come together. The sun had set, and it was 
 time to go. 
 
 Johnnie found the old man sitting on his doorstep. 
 Leaning against the side of the house was a sharp axe, 
 and near by stood two shiny milk-pails and an old 
 coffee-pot that had a round hole in the cover about as 
 large as Johnnie's little finger. In the hole was a wooden 
 
I70 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 tube, like a pea-shooter, made from a joint of elderberry 
 from which Uncle Zeb had punched the pith. 
 
 "Well," said the old man, with a smile, "our army 
 seems to be ready. Let us go forward to the battle." 
 
 He gave Johnnie one of the milk-pails and the coffee- 
 pot to carry, and took the axe and the other milk-pail 
 himself; and then, in single file, they started for the bee 
 tree — the big sugar maple that they had found the day 
 before in the edge of the thick woods on the other side 
 of Thompson's Hollow. 
 
 The old man led, although Johnnie felt sure that he 
 could have found the way alone; but since the twilight 
 had begun, and the woods were filling with strange 
 shadows, he was glad, on the whole, that there was some 
 one with him. 
 
 Straight to the old tree they went. Uncle Zeb leaned 
 his axe against the trunk, and set his milk-pail down a 
 little way off. From one of his big pockets he took a large 
 piece of mosquito netting, which he threw over Johnnie's 
 head, hat and all, and which he tucked carefully into his 
 jacket. After that he tied Johnnie's overalls down over 
 the tops of his boots, and told him to put on the gloves. 
 Then, taking off his coat, he began to chop. 
 
 The notch in the tree grew deeper and deeper. When 
 it was a little more than halfway through. Uncle Zeb 
 stopped, and began on the other side, where he soon had 
 another notch that by and by would meet the first one. 
 
 "There!" he said, as he laid the axe aside. "Now we 
 are almost ready for your part of the work." 
 
GATHERING THE TREASURE 171 
 
 "What am I to do?" asked Johnnie. 
 
 "You are going to put the bees to sleep, and keep 
 them asleep while 1 take out the honey. But first get 
 me some dry sticks for a fire." 
 
 In a few minutes Johnnie had an armful of sticks 
 piled neatly together. The old man touched a match to 
 it, and it burst into cheerful flame. When it was burn- 
 ing well, he took from his pocket a lump of something 
 yellow, nearly as large as his fist, and after raking some 
 of the blazing coals from the fire into the old coffee-pot, 
 he dropped the yellow lump in on top of them and 
 quickly shut the lid. 
 
 "Now," he said to Johnnie, "stand back on this side, 
 for the tree is coming down; and when it falls, take the 
 coffee-pot and put the spout into the hole where we saw 
 the bees go in yesterday, and blow through the wooden 
 tube in the cover. That will drive the smoke into the 
 tree and put the bees to sleep. But you must be careful 
 only to blow through the tube, and not to breathe in 
 through it; for the yellow stuff that I put on the coals is 
 sulphur, and if you breathe it, it will make you cough." 
 
 Again came the sharp strokes of the axe, and then 
 a warning crack that made Uncle Zeb jump away. 
 Against the sky the top of the old tree quivered a mo- 
 ment, and then, slowly at first, but rushing ever faster, 
 it crashed to earth with a great crackling of limbs and a 
 roar that shook the ground and filled the woods with the 
 cries of startled birds. 
 
 No sooner had it come to rest than Johnnie had the 
 
They were going to put the bees asleep and keep them asleep until 
 ihey had (aken ouf ^he hone^. 
 
GATHERING THE TREASURE 173 
 
 spout of the coffee-pot at the bee-hole, and was blowing 
 through the elder tube in quick, short puffs that shot 
 the sulphur smoke far into the tree. The few bees that 
 got out buzzed angrily round. Some of them settled on 
 Johnnie's hands and head, and indeed all over his body; 
 but they could not sting through his clothing or get 
 through the veil of mosquito netting, and so he kept on 
 blowing, unharmed. 
 
 Uncle Zeb now came forward with the axe, and with a 
 few sharp strokes split out a long slab from the side of 
 the tree which laid bare the home of the bees, and all 
 the wealth that it held — comb after comb of honey, 
 not snowy white, like that from the stores, but some of 
 it dark, and some golden yellow, and all of it, as the old 
 man had said, rich with the taste of flowers that do not 
 grow in gardens. 
 
 While Johnnie held a blazing brand to serve as a 
 torch, the old man carefully cut out the combs and put 
 them into the pails. There was almost enough to fill 
 both of them, and Johnnie's share was all he could carry. 
 
 "What will the bees do, now that we have robbed 
 them .? " he asked, on the way home. "Will they starve .? " 
 
 "Oh, no. It is still early in the summer, and they have 
 plenty of time to make another nest and fill it before 
 cold weather comes." 
 
 "Still, it seems kind of mean to take it all, does n't it.?" 
 
 "Well, maybe so," answered the old man, "but when 
 folks tell everyone else where they keep their riches, 
 they must expect to be robbed." 
 
The Game of "T.G.B.B." 
 
 GRANDFATHER and Aunt Mary and Cousin 
 Sarah and the two small boys, Lewis and John, 
 were sitting on the piazza. Grandfather had a 
 golf-stick in his hand, Lewis had some tennis-balls, and 
 John had a racket. On the piazza floor was a basket-ball, 
 which Aunt Mary and Cousin Sarah were idly pushing 
 back and forth with quick little shoves of their toes. 
 
 They had all been talking about what they should do 
 " that afternoon. Grandfather wanted a game of golf, 
 but there was no one to play with him. Aunt Mary and 
 Cousin Sarah would have enjoyed the lively sport of 
 basket-ball, but the friends who had played with them 
 at other times had driven to town this afternoon. The 
 boys wanted a game of tennis, but although there were 
 plenty of tennis-balls, there was only one racket. There 
 did not seem to be anything they could all do together. 
 But down on the lawn, under a large tree, stood an 
 empty peach-basket. 
 
 When grandfather saw it, he got up, put his golf- 
 stick in the corner of the hall, and said, "We will make 
 a new game, one that all of us can play. We shall make 
 our own rules to suit ourselves, so that the game will be 
 our very own." 
 
 That is how the game of "T.G.B.B." came to be 
 played. Those who know it enjoy it as much as golf, 
 tennis, or basket-ball, and play it as often. 
 
THE GAME OF "T.G.B.B." 175 
 
 Grandfather first sent Lewis and Johnnie to the shed 
 to get some more empty peach-baskets. They came 
 back with five. One they were told to place away down 
 by the gate, on the right-hand side of the walk. The 
 second they put at the back side of the house, where no 
 one could see it from the piazza. A third was set at the 
 corner of the wood-shed, another in the field behind the 
 barn, and the last one on the piazza itself. 
 
 "There," said grandfather, "now we have our course 
 laid out. The game is to start here, and by batting a 
 tennis-ball with the racket, see how few strokes it will 
 take to put the ball in all the baskets, one after the 
 other, ending with this one here on the piazza." 
 
 Everybody saw at once what the game was to be, 
 and they laughed to think how easy it was. 
 
 "But what are the rules.?" asked Lewis. 
 
 "Well," said grandfather, "at first we will have as 
 few and as simple rules as we can. 
 
 "Each player will have his own tennis-ball, with some 
 mark on it, so that he can tell it at once; but all of us 
 can' use the same racket. We will all start from the 
 same place, at the same time, and go over the course 
 together. Each shall have but one stroke, and then 
 shall pass the racket to the next player. 
 
 "When all have played one stroke, we will march for- 
 ward to the balls, and the first player shall make his 
 second stroke, standing on the spot where his ball lies. 
 Then the others shall play in turn, in the same way, each 
 standing just exactly where his ball lies. 
 
176 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 "A ball, to count as pocketed, must stay in the basket, 
 and not bound out. The one who puts his ball in the 
 last basket with the smallest number of strokes shall 
 be counted the winner." 
 
 Those are the rules as grandfather made them up that 
 first day. They have never been changed, except that 
 when there are tennis-rackets enough to go round, each 
 player has one. 
 
 The name, "T.G.B.B.," is made up of the first letters 
 of tennis, golf, and basket-ball, because the game has in 
 it a little of each. 
 
 The family had much fun playing it that summer and 
 fall, and have enjoyed it in other years since. Nobody 
 is too old to play it, and nobody too young, and any 
 number can take part by changing the number of peach- 
 baskets, and putting them in different places. 
 
Why the Squirrels Moved 
 
 OLD MR. SQUIRREL and his family had lived 
 many years at The Oaks. He had gone there 
 when he was young, because there were so 
 many good things to eat, and he had never been far 
 away from it since then. Four children still lived with 
 their father and mother — Hazel and her three brothers, 
 Bob, Rags, and Skinny. 
 
 Happy were the hours they spent together, chasing 
 one another up and down the trunks of the great trees. 
 There were such good things to eat ! And the only hard 
 work they had to do was to gather and store away the 
 shagbarks for the winter, and to collect feathers and 
 soft grasses and tough leaves to line the house where 
 they spent their winters, in the hollow heart of the 
 great tree that they had heard people speak of as the 
 "Grandfather Oak." Those things meant going back 
 and forth many times when they wished to play; but 
 old Mr. Squirrel and his wife would not let them be idle, 
 for they were wise, and knew that a time would come 
 when they would need the warm grasses and feathers, 
 and the nuts and acorns. 
 
 The family had already put away a part of its winter 
 stores, when one day Rags came home to tell of a dis- 
 covery he had made. In one of the attic windows of the 
 great house he had found a hole, and by going through 
 
178 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 it he had come upon wonderful things. Hanging over- 
 head was a great store of corn, and on the floor were 
 baskets and bags of nuts — so many that the whole 
 family could live on them for years, and not have to 
 work at all. 
 
 More wonderful still, there was in the attic the finest 
 straw house that anyone had ever seen — big enough 
 for the whole family; and near by it he saw things much 
 better for beds than leaves and feathers could ever be. 
 
 Rags said so much about his discovery that they all 
 ran after him, to see. It was just as he had said, and the 
 younger members of the family were for moving in at 
 once; but Mr. Squirrel shook his head. 
 
 "The people might come back, and then we should 
 be put out," he said. 
 
 But all the others talked so fast, and the children 
 teased so hard, that at last he decided to move in. 
 
 "We shall have a real bungalow," said Hazel. 
 
 In the little straw house Rags and his brothers cut 
 two doors, one in the centre and the other at the end, 
 and then they began to move the bedding in. Hazel 
 chose a blue bed with yellow stripes, and Skinny a pur- 
 ple one with white dots, and Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel a 
 large soft red one. 
 
 Then began a delightful time. No more need of 
 carrying acorns or nuts, for here, close at hand, were all 
 they could eat, just for the taking. On pleasant days 
 they could go out through the hole in the attic window 
 and play in the sun; and on stormy days they could stay 
 
WHY THE SQUIRRELS MOVED " 179 
 
 in and chase one another, round the chimney and down 
 the long floor and back; and at night no cold winds 
 reached them in their snug house and warm beds. 
 
 Is it any wonder that the whole family grew proud, 
 and were no longer willing to do any work? 
 
 But one sad day a terrible thing happened. The fam- 
 ily had gone to bed. They were awakened by a great 
 noise, a sound of heavy feet stamping up the stairs, and 
 loud voices. 
 
 "Quick! Quick!" cried Mr. Squirrel. 
 
 And they had just time to dash out through the hole 
 in the attic window and perch, trembling, on the edge of 
 the roof, in the winter cold, when the door burst open 
 and a giant strode across the room with a great light in 
 his hand. He picked up their bungalow as easily as if it 
 had been a hand-bag; and then they heard him call 
 out, — 
 
 "Here, come and see what those rascally squirrels 
 have done! They have gnawed holes in my straw suit- 
 case, and dragged three or four of my 'neckties into it, 
 for a nest, and have been living here like kings!" 
 
 And then they heard a great pounding, so near that 
 they all scurried away to the ridgepole; and when it had 
 stopped, and the light had gone away, and all was still 
 again, they crept back, and found that the hole in the 
 window had been closed with a heavy board, and that 
 there was no way to get back to their warm beds and 
 the corn and nuts. 
 
 That was a long, hard winter for the Squirrel family. 
 
There was no way to get hack to their warm beds and the corn 
 and nuts. 
 
WHY THE SQUIRRELS MOVED i8i 
 
 They had to go back to their old home in the Grand- 
 father Oak and dig the snow and wet leaves out of the 
 nest. Then they had to line it again, and all winter they 
 had to paw under the grass and leaves and snow in the 
 woods, and gnaw frozen apples in the orchard, to get 
 enough to eat. They were ashamed to ask their cousins, 
 the Rufus Squirrels, for even a single acorn, and were 
 glad enough when spring came again. 
 
 The next year they began early, and put the old nest 
 in order, and laid in a great store of good things, so that 
 no one could turn them out of doors again 
 
Grandfather's Dan 
 
 IN the parlor of the httle house which cuddled close 
 under a hill by the seashore there hung a picture 
 that Johnnie liked to look at. 
 
 It was the picture of an old white-haired man, sitting 
 on a bench by an open door. In his lap he held a long 
 gun, and between his knees nestled a large and very 
 handsome Newfoundland dog, with long curly black 
 hair; but on the face and chest and about the fore paws 
 and the tip of his tail, there were patches of pure white. 
 
 The man was Johnnie's grandfather, who had lived 
 all his life in this little house by the sea, and the dog was 
 old Dan. Grandfather had raised him from a puppy, 
 and had kept and loved him until old age came and 
 called him away to the place where good dogs go. 
 
 During all his long life Dan had been a real help to 
 his master, and Johnnie was fond of hearing his grand- 
 mother tell of the way the dog had paid his board; but 
 best of all, he liked the story of the time when his grand- 
 father had to help Dan. This is the story he had heard 
 so often. 
 
 The coast on which the little house stands is very cold 
 in winter. The ice forms thick in all the little coves, and 
 sometimes it freezes hard way out into the' bay. Food 
 is not easy to get, and sometimes the family would have 
 to go hungry if it were not for the ducks. 
 
GRANDFATHER'S DAN 183 
 
 All along the shore, and especially In the little coves, 
 there are great flocks of wild ducks that come down 
 from the far north in order to find open water and some- 
 thing to eat. Whenever grandfather's family had need 
 of meat, grandfather would take down his long gun, 
 and going down to the shore, would build a little fort of 
 cakes of ice and snow, and by hiding in that, he would 
 by and by get a shot at some ducks. Then it was that 
 Dan earned his board. As soon as he saw a duck fall, 
 away he would go, over the icy shore and into the water. 
 He would swim out to the duck, take it carefully in his 
 mouth, and swim back and lay it at his master's feet. 
 
 This went on for many years. No swim seemed too 
 long and no water too cold for the dog; and by his work 
 and grandfather's gun there was usually good meat in 
 the little house. 
 
 But of course Dan was growing older all the time, 
 and a dog gets to be old before a boy gets to be a young 
 man. 
 
 One day, when a northeast storm had driven great 
 flocks of ducks into the cove, and piled the cakes of ice 
 thick along the shore, grandfather took old Dan with 
 him and went out. 
 
 It was still snowing a little, and a strong wind blew, 
 and because of that it was a good time to get ducks 
 enough to last the family half the winter. The snow 
 made it easier to keep hidden, and the wind made it 
 harder for the ducks to hear the noise of the gun. 
 
 Time after time, as old Dan saw a bird come down, 
 
i84 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 he plunged into the icy water, swam away into the mist 
 of the snowstorm, and in a little while would come pad- 
 dling back to the big ice-cake where grandfather lay, 
 and drop his prize at the old man's feet. He did that 
 until thirty ducks were piled on the ice. And then he 
 started out once more. Grandfather remembered after- 
 ward that, before Dan let himself down into the water 
 this time, he looked up into his face and paused a mo- 
 ment and gave a whine; but he did not think much 
 about it then. 
 
 The duck for which Dan had started lay a long way 
 off, so that the dog had to swim farther than usual; but 
 he kept steadily on, pounding his way through the 
 waves, until he reached the bird. Grandfather saw him 
 take it in his mouth and start back. But the dog seemed 
 to swim very slowly, and to make no headway against 
 the waves. Then, suddenly, he dropped the bird and 
 gave a long, whimpering cry. He was old. The chill of 
 the waters had struck to his heart. His strength was 
 gone and he could do no more. The cry was a call for 
 help, to the friend he had known longest and best. 
 
 The moment that grandfather heard the call he stood 
 up and looked. He saw the old dog battling for his life, 
 his head barely above water, his big, kind eyes turned 
 toward the shore. Grandfather dropped his gun and 
 tore off his heavy coat. "Hold on, Danny, old boy! 
 I'm coming!" he called. Then he pulled off his boots 
 and plunged into the water. 
 
 The cold cut through him like a knife and stiffened his 
 
GRANDFATHER'S DAN 185 
 
 arms and legs, for he, too, was beginning to be old. But 
 the thought of his faithful friend made him forget every- 
 thing else, and after what seemed a long time he was 
 able to reach out one hand and grasp Dan's collar. 
 
 It was a hard swim back to the ice-cake, but the dog 
 helped himself all he could, and the hand on his collar 
 kept his head above water. When they reached the ice, 
 the man pushed the dog up first, and then the dog turned 
 round, and fixing his teeth in the man's shirt, helped 
 him out. 
 
 They left the ducks and the gun on the shore, and 
 together crawled slowly up to the house, where grand- 
 mother soon had them wrapped in hot blankets before 
 a blazing open fire. 
 
 After that day Dan would never let grandfather out 
 of his sight, nor would he follow any other member of 
 the family. 
 
His Task 
 
 FATHER," said Tommy Harris, one day in June, 
 "if I earn some money this summer, may I 
 have it for myself, to do what I want to with?" 
 
 "Why, yes, I think so," said his father. "But what 
 are you going to do? How are you going to earn any 
 money?" 
 
 "I'm going to mow Mr. Webster's lawn. I heard him 
 say he wished he knew of some boy he could trust to 
 keep the lawn mowed all summer. I 'm going to ask him 
 to let me do it. May I have the use of your lawn-mower 
 if he gives me the work?" 
 
 "Yes, if you will take good care of it and put it back 
 where it belongs when you are done." 
 
 Tom promised, and the next day, when Mr. Webster 
 came home from the city, he went over and asked him. 
 
 The lawn was a large one, and there were some trees 
 and shrubs on it. Mr. Webster got up from his piazza 
 chair and took Tom down on the lawn. He showed him 
 how he wanted it cut, and told him that the boy who got 
 the job must be careful not to break the shrubs, and 
 must not knock the bark off any of the young trees, and 
 must trim the borders with the grass-shears and rake up 
 and carry away the grass. 
 
 "Do you think you can do that, and do it right, all 
 summer?" Mr. Webster asked. 
 
 Tom thought he could. 
 
HIS TASK 187 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Webster, "I want it cut once every 
 week. I don't care what day you cut it, because some 
 weeks, when it rains a good deal, it grows faster than 
 others; but I want it always to look neat on Sundays. 
 You must watch it and cut it whenever it needs it. 
 I will give you fifty cents each time." 
 
 Tom went home well pleased. He watched the lawn, 
 and the next Wednesday he cut it very nicely, taking 
 care to trim the edges and to carry away the grass, and 
 not to break any of the shrubbery. 
 
 The next week on Wednesday he was going to mow 
 the lawn again, but there was a ball game that after- 
 noon, and the boys wanted him to play first base. The 
 grass did not look so very long, anyway, so he played 
 ball, and was going to cut the lawn on Thursday. 
 
 But Thursday it rained hard, and he could not work 
 outdoors, so he had to wait till Friday. He cut the 
 grass then, but it was much longer than it had been the 
 week before, and so it did not cut so smooth. When he 
 had finished it, there were some rough places where the 
 tall grass had been pressed down by the lawn-mower, 
 but had not been cut off. Still, he thought it would not 
 be noticed. 
 
 The next time the grass needed cutting, Tom went at 
 it bright and early in the morning. He had got about a 
 quarter of it done when Eddie Ives came along with a 
 bat over his shoulder and a catcher's mitt on one hand. 
 He stopped at the fence, and called, "Come on, Tom! 
 We're going to play the White Stars." 
 
1 88 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 "I can't," said Tom. "I must work." 
 
 "Oh, you can do that in half an hour. Let it go till 
 afternoon. We want you in the game." 
 
 Tom left the lawn-mower just where it stood, and 
 went off with his friend Eddie. The boys all said they 
 were glad he was there, too, because in the second inning 
 he caught a high fly that put out the third runner of the 
 Stars. 
 
 But just before the end of the game, in trying to stop 
 a hot grounder, he hurt his hand so badly that he had 
 to go home and have it bandaged. It made him forget 
 about Mr. Webster's lawn and where he had left the 
 lawn-mower. 
 
 He thought of it the next morning, and tried to finish 
 the work; but the mower, being out in the dew all night, 
 had rusted, so that it ran hard ■ — and he could not find 
 the oil-can. Besides, his hand hurt him. After a while 
 he called in Jimmy Russell, who was passing, and got 
 him to help. But Jimmy was small, and could not han- 
 dle the mower very well. In going round one of the 
 shrubs, he broke off a big branch; and he also knocked a 
 piece of bark from the trunk of a small white birch tree, 
 and the dark scar showed very plainly. 
 
 By the time they had finished, it was too late to rake 
 up the grass and carry it off. Tom kicked it round a 
 little, where it was thickest, so that it would not look 
 quite so bad. He said to himself that next time he 
 would begin early and stick to it and do better. His 
 hand would be well by that time. 
 
HIS TASK 189 
 
 But the next time never came. When the grass was 
 long enough to mow again, and Tom went over to Mr. 
 Webster's place, pushing the lawn-mower ahead of him, 
 he found the grass all nicely cut, and a short, red-headed 
 boy raking it up. 
 
 "Here, Sam Casey!" cried Tom. "What are you 
 doing on my lawn.?" 
 
 "It is n't your lawn any more. It's my lawn." 
 
 "What do you mean.?" asked Tom. 
 
 " I mean that I 'm going to cut it once a week all sum- 
 mer, for fifty cents a time." 
 
 "Who told you so.?" 
 
 "Mr. Webster did — the man who lives here. He 
 said he was tired of having it half-done or not done at 
 all, and so I'm going to do it." 
 
 There was nothing more to be said. Tom went slowly 
 home and put away his lawn-mower. The chance to 
 earn some money during the summer was gone; but he 
 had learned a lesson that in the end was worth a good 
 deal more money; and the next summer, when he got 
 other lawns to mow, he did his work well and faithfully. 
 
Roy's Bear-Hunt 
 
 THE moment that Roy. stepped out on the back 
 piazza he knew that it was just the morning for 
 a bear-hunt. The air was clear and cool, with 
 just a little bit of breeze blowing; not enough to make 
 so much noise in the woods that you could not hear a 
 bear coming, but just enough so that the bear could 
 not smell you if you were careful to notice which way 
 the wind was blowing. Then, besides, the grass was 
 wet a little, so that the dead leaves did not rustle when 
 you walked through them. 
 
 Roy had his new bow-gun, that Henry, the hired 
 man, had made for him. It was a gun that would shoot 
 very far and very hard indeed. Henry had tried it by 
 shooting at a tomato-can which he had set up on top of 
 a fence-post, and the arrow had knocked the can way 
 off and made a big dent in it. The clump of trees and 
 bushes at the back end of the orchard, near the spring- 
 house, was the best place to hunt. Bears had often 
 been seen all about there; and it was a fine place to look 
 for them, because there were plenty of bushes where 
 you could hide, and an old stone wall behind which you 
 could creep up close. 
 
 Roy loaded his bow-gun very carefully, putting in his 
 best arrow. He had just started to steal along slowly, 
 looking closely at the ground to see if he could find 
 
ROY'S BEAR-HUNT 191 
 
 any tracks, when there was a sharp bark at his heels, 
 and Ginger, his fox-terrier, came rushing up, wagging 
 his stump of a tail. 
 
 "Here, Ginger! You go back! You can't come," 
 whispered Roy. "This is a bear-hunt. Go home now!" 
 
 Ginger just wagged his tail harder, as much as to 
 say, "Yes, sir. Certainly, sir," and kept right on. And 
 Roy had to let him go, because it would not do to make 
 any loud talk or other noise that might frighten the 
 bear. 
 
 It took a long time to reach the hunting-grounds, 
 walking very slowly and stooping a good deal, as you 
 have to do when you are after bears. But by and by 
 the edges of the bushes were reached, and Roy began 
 ■ to look even more carefully for tracks. He did not find 
 any at first, although he looked under the syringa bush 
 and all about the damp ground near the clump of rasp- 
 berries; and bears are very fond of raspberries. 
 
 But now he was approaching the currant bushes. 
 Ah! There it was! A track! There were two tracks, as 
 plain as could be ! And looking ahead a little way, Roy 
 saw the bear himself — a big brown fellow, standing 
 up straight on his hind legs under a currant bush, his 
 little black eyes twinkling and watching out sharp. 
 
 Now was the time to be very careful, because when 
 bears stand up that way, it means that they are on the 
 lookout for danger. 
 
 The first thing was to find out which way the wind 
 was. Of course, Roy could have looked back at the 
 
192 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 weather-vane on the barn if he had wanted to; but that 
 would not have been the right way. So he wet his fore- 
 finger and held it up in the air, as Henry had taught him 
 to do. And by seeing which side of the finger got cold 
 first, he could tell that the wind was blowing from the 
 east. That was bad, because it was right toward the 
 bear, which would be sure to smell him. 
 
 The only thing to do was to work off to the right, get 
 over the wall, and creep back to the left on the other 
 side. If he could get as far as the crab-apple tree, he 
 would be all right. 
 
 Slowly he crawled from bush to bush, sometimes on 
 his hands and knees, sometimes on his stomach, till 
 he reached the wall. He climbed over without making a 
 bit of noise, and began to creep toward the crab-apple * 
 tree. When, at last, he reached it, and stood up, very 
 softly, very still, there was the bear within ten feet of 
 him, standing, just as he had seen him first, under the 
 currant bush. He had not seen Roy at all, or smelled 
 him, or moved a single muscle. 
 
 Pushing the gun carefully over the wall, Roy took 
 steady aim. Crash! went the bow, and plunk! went the 
 bear. He was hit square in the middle, and rolled over 
 and over, and finally lay still on his back, with all four 
 of his bare feet up in the air. 
 
 With a shout, Roy started to climb the wall; but 
 before he could get over. Ginger had rushed ahead and 
 grabbed the bear, and was shaking him so that the fur 
 was all coming off. 
 
He tied a long string to one of the bear's hind legs, and with 
 the gun over one shoulder and the string over the other, he 
 started to drag the hear to the house. 
 
194 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 As soon as Roy could get the bear away from Ginger, 
 he tied a long string to one of his hind legs, and with 
 the gun over one shoulder and the string over the other, 
 started to drag the bear up to the house. But just as 
 he reached the stable, his sister Ethel came running out. 
 
 "Here, what are you doing with my Teddy bear.?" 
 she cried. "You stop dragging him that way! You're 
 wearing him all out!" 
 
 Roy stopped and untied the string. "Huh," he said, 
 "this is a bear that I just shot down in the garden! 
 But you may have him!" 
 
Out of the Big Marsh 
 
 ONE warm afternoon in August, Johnnie was sit- 
 ting in Uncle Zeb's shop, watching the old man 
 as he put a new seat in a chair. 
 
 "I guess I shall have to go out to the big marsh 
 to-morrow," said Uncle Zeb. 
 
 "What do you have to go there for?" asked Johnnie. 
 
 "To get some more rushes. I've got only enough left 
 to finish this job, and August is the best time to cut 
 them." 
 
 "What are rushes. Uncle Zeb.''" 
 
 "Why, these things"; and the old man held up the 
 coarse cord that he had been weaving back and forth 
 across the frame of the chair. 
 
 Johnnie saw then that it was not a string, as he had 
 thought, but the long, dry, ribbon-like leaves of a plant, 
 twisted tightly together; and Uncle Zeb told him how 
 rushes grow, and that in August, for hundreds of years, 
 people have gathered them to make seats for chairs. 
 
 " May I go with you .? " asked Johnnie, after a while. 
 
 "Do you think your legs are long enough.''" 
 
 "Why, is it very far.?" 
 
 "Not very far from here to there, but pretty far up 
 and down. The mud is deep. Do you think you could 
 stand it to sink in up to your knees, and feel the cold, 
 black mud oozing up between your toes?" 
 
196 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Johnnie thought he could. 
 
 "All right, then," said Uncle Zeb. "You be here at 
 nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Perhaps you can help 
 me some; and anyway, it's more fun when there are 
 two." 
 
 So just as the clock struck nine the next morning, 
 Johnnie turned in at the old man's gate. Uncle Zeb 
 was ready. He gave Johnnie a pair of funny little thin 
 boards to carry — boards about a foot wide and two 
 feet long, with holes in them in which were straps like 
 skate-straps. In his own hand he carried a sharp sickle. 
 
 It took them nearly an hour to reach the marsh, for 
 the old man wore long, heavy rubber boots, and walked 
 slowly. 
 
 The marsh was beautiful, Johnnie thought; for as far 
 as he could see on every side the soft green of the rushes 
 stretched away like a great field of grain, bending and 
 bowing to the morning breeze. But it was wet, as the 
 old man had told him it would be. 
 
 He was about to take off his shoes and stockings 
 when Uncle Zeb said, "Do you think it is too warm'for 
 snowshoes?" 
 
 "Snowshoes.?" asked Johnnie, wondering what the 
 old man meant. 
 
 Uncle Zeb laughed. "Well, then, let 's call them 
 mud-shoes." 
 
 And with that he picked up the two little boards that 
 Johnnie had been carrying, and showed him how to 
 strap them on his feet. When they were once in place, 
 
Poth Johnnie and Uncle Zeh worked hard until nearly noon, 
 putting th^ rushes and tying them into bundles. 
 
198 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 Johnnie found that he could walk even on the softest 
 places without sinking in. It made him feel almost as 
 free as a bird. 
 
 Both Johnnie and Uncle Zeb worked hard till nearly 
 noon, cutting the rushes and tying them into bundles, 
 which they carried to the dry bank by the side of the 
 marsh. 
 
 Just as Johnnie started out with the last bunch, 
 Uncle Zeb stooped and began to pull up some rushes by 
 the roots. To Johnnie they looked exactly like those 
 that they had been cutting, but Uncle Zeb showed him 
 that they were different. The roots were almost as large 
 as a man's finger, and full of twists and turns, as if 
 they had started to grow in one way, and then had 
 changed their mind. Johnnie thought they looked 
 wiggly, like big fuzzy worms, for between the joints at 
 the top of the roots were rows of little hairs that made 
 him think of caterpillars. 
 
 "We may as well have some sweets, to pay us for our 
 work," said the old man, as he put the roots in his 
 pocket. 
 
 As soon as they got back to the house Uncle Zeb took 
 the roots from his pocket and washed them under the 
 pump. When they were clean he cut them into little 
 squares, which were white at first, but which in a little 
 while began to take on the color of violets. 
 
 Into a small tin dish he put some sugar, and over it 
 poured hot water until the sugar melted. When it had 
 boiled a few minutes, and become a thick syrup, he put 
 
OUT OF THE BIG MARSH 199 
 
 the little squares into it and stirred them round until 
 they were all covered with the melted sugar. Then, 
 with a skimmer, he took them out and spread them on a 
 clean sheet of paper, where the wind would strike them, 
 but not the sun. 
 
 In a little while they were dry, and Johnnie noticed 
 that each square sparkled like the head of a frost-cov- 
 ered nail. 
 
 "Taste them," said the old man. 
 
 Johnnie put one into his mouth. It was different from 
 anything he had ever tasted before, but good; a little 
 "bitey " when he chewed it, but sweet and full of flavor 
 as long as he only sucked it. 
 
 "What is it.?" he asked. 
 
 "Sweet flag-root," said the old man. "When I was a 
 boy, people used to take it to church with them, to 
 keep them awake through the long sermons; and even 
 now doctors sometimes use it in medicine. So you see 
 that the big marsh is really a furniture store, a candy 
 shop, and a drug store, all in one, and you can pay in 
 work for everything that you get there." 
 
Grandmother's Panther 
 
 ONE winter a good many years ago, when Grand- 
 mother Fossett was a small girl, it began to be 
 told from house to house in the little village 
 where she lived that some fierce wild animal was prowl- 
 ing about. 
 
 No one had seen it, and no one knew what it was. 
 The first news came from David Rollins, who had been 
 roused from a Sound sleep one dark night by a great 
 bellowing and stamping among the cattle in his barn 
 and a loud squealing among the pigs. He slipped into 
 his clothes as soon as he could, and hurried out. He 
 found all the animals very much excited and fright- 
 ened, and one pig, in the pen under the barn, was badly 
 cut or scratched about the head. There was nothing 
 else to be seen, and as the ground was bare and frozen 
 hard, no tracks could be found. 
 
 In a week another neighbor, Mr. Peleg Gibson, came 
 home from his wood-lot one evening much excited and 
 very pale. He had been cutting cord-wood all day, and 
 had not started for home till nearly dark. A part of the 
 way led through a swamp where there was a thick growth 
 of cedar, so that he could see only a little way on either 
 side. While he was going through the swamp, Mr. Gib- 
 son heard a stick snap, and by and by another; then he 
 heard soft foot-falls, and became sure that something 
 
GRANDMOTHER'S PANTHER 201 
 
 was following him. He did not dare run, but walked as 
 fast as he could; and whatever it was that was following 
 him kept up the chase until he came out into the open 
 orchard just back of the house. 
 
 By that time the little settlement began to be much 
 disturbed, and everybody talked of the strange animal. 
 Some thought it was a wolf; others said it was probably 
 a bear; still others believed it was only a big wildcat or 
 lynx. But some felt sure that it was a panther. 
 
 Then came the first big snow, which settled down to 
 make good sleighing. The roads were rough and poor, 
 and every winter, as soon as it got cold enough to make 
 good thick ice, the people began to use the Kennebec 
 River to travel on, because a sleigh would run better on 
 the smooth, level ice than on the "bumpity" roads. 
 
 One evening, a few days after the big snow, the whole 
 village was stirred by the attempt of some animal to 
 attack Gideon Lang's colt right in the barn-yard. The 
 men were milking when they heard the colt scream. 
 They rushed out just in time to see a big, shadowy thing 
 leap over the bars at one jump and disappear in the 
 darkness. They got lanterns and returned, and soon 
 found the tracks in the snow — great tracks twelve or 
 fifteen feet apart. There was no longer any doubt that 
 the beast was a panther, and a big one, too. 
 
 The next day it was decided to have a grand hunt. 
 All the men in the settlement, and all the dogs, were to 
 gather at noon and chase the panther until it should be 
 caught, There was great excitement among the chil- 
 
202 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 dren, and Grandmother Fossett, who was then nine 
 years old, helped to put up a luncheon for her father and 
 brothers, because they thought they might have to be 
 away all night. And she was out with the others at 
 noon to see the hunters start. 
 
 But that very afternoon word came up-river that 
 grandmother's married sister, who lived twelve miles 
 below, was sick, and wanted Polly — that was grand- 
 mother — to come at once. She had sent Nathan, her 
 husband, to bring Polly in the sleigh. 
 
 It was nearly dusk before they could make the start; 
 but at last old Canada, the faithful little black mare, 
 picked her way carefully down the steep, icy hill, and 
 came out on the smooth, broad surface of the frozen 
 river, with Polly snugly wrapped in a red shawl and 
 warm buffalo-robe. 
 
 Her first thought when she found she was tc go had 
 been of the panther. What if it should get away from 
 the men and the dogs, and follow her! 
 
 Out on the river it seemed very still and scary. Once 
 she heard dogs barking away off somewhere down-river, 
 and that made her think still more of the panther. 
 The moon was small and gave only a little light, and the 
 road, which followed close to the high bank, lay almost 
 wholly in shadow. 
 
 Every time a tree or a limb cracked in the frost 
 Polly's heart beat so hard she could hardly swallow, and 
 in every black stump she thought she could see a great 
 crouching beast ready to spring upon her. 
 
GRANDMOTHER'S PANTHER 203 
 
 When she told Nathan how scared she was, he only 
 laughed and said he "guessed there was n't much dan- 
 ger." If he had only said there was n't any danger, and 
 said it as if he knew! But he did not. He just said 
 "much danger." 
 
 The journey was nearly half-over when the sleigh 
 reached a dark wooded point that ran out Into the 
 river.* Just as they turned the point Polly chanced to 
 look back along the way they had come. There was 
 only a moment before the point shut off the view, but 
 in that moment Polly suddenly saw a great black shape 
 appeal from a dark shadow, flash across a .patch of 
 moonlight, and come tearing along the road in great 
 leaps; 
 
 With one wild scream Polly cried, "He's coming! 
 He's coming! The panther is coming! He is right here 
 behind us! Oh, quick, quick!" and grabbed Nathan's 
 arm. 
 
 Nathan turned his head, and almost without know- 
 ing it, hit old Canada a sharp crack with the whip; 
 and as he looked back, the black shape came round the 
 sleigh. 
 
 Polly was now so frightened that she could not even 
 scream; but just as she thought she could almost feel 
 the panther's awful teeth, the black shape came up 
 even with old Canada's head, and leaping sidewise, let 
 out a loud bark — a joyous "Wow! wow! wow!" of 
 friendliness and welcome. 
 
 It was old Prince, the family dog. He had got out 
 
204 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 of the shed and followed the sleigh, and he was the 
 panther. 
 
 Grandmother always said that the rest of that jour- 
 ney was the happiest sleigh-ride she ever had. And she 
 was happier still when she got home, a week later, and 
 saw the skin of the real panther nailed on the door of 
 the corn-barn, drying in the sun. She used to like to tell 
 the story to her grandchildren, and I have told it to 
 you just as she told it to us. 
 
Three Orphans 
 
 THE Bradfords had been settled in their summer 
 home nearly a week when Louis, looking up from 
 his book one afternoon a little before sunset, 
 saw a small brown head pop out from under the corner 
 of the carriage-house. 
 
 At first the only thing that he could think of was a rat, 
 for he had heard his father say at breakfast that rats 
 had been getting into the grain. But he kept very still, 
 and in a little while the head poked out farther, and 
 then the whole, body followed, and he saw that the ani- 
 mal was much larger than a rat. In fact, it was as large 
 as a full-grown cat or a small dog. It had a round, fat 
 body covered with grayish-brown hair, and a broad 
 head with small ears that hardly showed at all. 
 
 With little runs of a foot or two at a time, the creature 
 ventured farther and farther away from the corner of 
 the carriage-house; and then, to Louis's astonishment, it 
 stood up on its hind quarters, with its fore-paws hang- 
 ing down in front, and looked all about, to see whether 
 it was safe to go any farther. But just then Louis leaned 
 too far forward in his eagerness to see, and his book 
 slipped to the floor of the piazza with a loud slam. At 
 that, the strange animal flashed back out of sight into 
 his hole so quickly that it looked like a mere brown 
 streak. 
 
2o6 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 When Louis told the gardener what he had seen, the 
 old man laughed, and said he guessed it was only a 
 woodchuck, and that they would see him again before 
 long; but though Louis watched for several days, he saw 
 nothing more of the brown head or the fat, round body. 
 
 But one morning he waked very early, and looking 
 out of his window, saw the woodchuck feeding in plain 
 sight on the grass-plot behind the house. 
 
 In the corner stood the little rifle that had come to 
 Louis's older brother as a Christmas present, and on a 
 shelf near by stood the box of cartridges. Louis had 
 been allowed to use the rifle when he was with his 
 brother, but had never tried it alone. Now, he thought, 
 his chance had come. 
 
 Very quietly he slipped over to the corner, took down 
 the box of cartridges, ^nd slipped one of them into the 
 rifle. Then, barefooted, he tiptoed downstairs, care- 
 fully slid the bolt of the back door, and stepped out. 
 Stealing to the corner of the house, he looked round. 
 Yes, the woodchuck was still there, and still feeding! 
 It had not been alarmed. 
 
 Louis raised the little rifle slowly, rested the barrel 
 against the corner of the house, took careful aim, and 
 pulled the trigger. At the report he saw something flop, 
 and ran to the edge of the grass-plot. There lay the 
 woodchuck, still now, and looking up at Louis with 
 glazing eyes, as if to say, "Why did you do it.? Have I 
 ever harmed you.?" And then the eyes closed, and the 
 woodchuck was dead. 
 
THREE ORPHANS 207 
 
 Louis went back to the house; but instead of feeUng 
 proud of what he had done, he began to ask himself why 
 he had done it, and he could not find any good answer. 
 
 To be sure, he had heard the gardener say that wood- 
 chucks destroy garden vegetables; but when he looked, 
 after breakfast, he could find none that seemed to have 
 been nibbled; and when he went to see what the little 
 animal had been eating when he shot it, he found only a 
 patch of clover. 
 
 "What about the young ones.?" asked the gardener 
 that noon. 
 
 " Young ones .? " asked Louis. "What young ones?" 
 
 "Why, that old woodchuck had a family. There are 
 three young ones in the hole under the carriage-house. 
 I saw them all out together the other day," said the 
 gardener. 
 
 "Will they starve to death?" asked Louis, much 
 troubled. 
 
 "I'm afraid they will, unless somebody kills them — 
 or feeds them." 
 
 Louis asked no more questions. That afternoon he 
 went to work with a spade at the corner of the carriage- 
 house. It took him until nearly night, but when he 
 finished, he had three little balls of fur, with frightened 
 black eyes that watched every move he made. The 
 gardener found an old squirrel-cage in the loft, and into 
 it they put the three orphans, with a big bunch of fresh 
 clover; and in the morning the clover was gone. 
 
 That is the way Louis got his little family. Two or 
 
2o8 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 three times a day he had to feed them, but he felt paid 
 when he saw how quickly they began to lose their fear 
 of him. In a week he could take them out of the cage 
 and handle them as he could the kitten; and in two 
 weeks they would run all round the yard, picking a 
 dainty clover-leaf here and a little sorrel there, but 
 always ready to come running when he whistled to 
 them. It always made him laugh to see them sit up 
 first, when he whistled, to see where he was before they 
 started. 
 
 Never did any other family of orphan woodchucks 
 fare so well! Besides the clover and the sorfel, there 
 were tender leaves of lettuce, and the juicy pods of 
 peas, and bits of carrot. All of the family grew round 
 and fat, as their mother had been, and all of them fol- 
 lowed Louis round; and whenever the cook would let 
 them, they would crawl in behind the stove and cuddle 
 together and sleep. 
 
 When September came, and it was time for Louis to 
 go back to school, the three orphans, now big enough to 
 take care of themselves, were taken to the pasture, and 
 set down beside a beautiful hole in the ground. But 
 since then, Louis has never taken a rifle in his hand 
 without first stopping to ask himself what he was going 
 to do, and why. 
 
A Game Postponed 
 
 IN the shade of a big maple that grew by the side of 
 the road sat a small boy with a very sour look on 
 his face. In one hand he held a baseball. The 
 other rested on a bat that lay by his side. In the field 
 across the road a few boys of about his own age were 
 playing; along the road were passing little groups of 
 children with flowers in their hands. 
 
 A brass band had gone by a few minutes before, with 
 a line of white-haired old men trailing after it; but even 
 that had not driven the sour look from the face of the 
 boy under the tree. The music was slow and queer, and 
 the old men dragged along, some of them out of step, 
 and all of them looking worn and tired, and very little 
 like the men in uniform who usually march behind a 
 band. 
 
 Everyone seemed to be going to the burylng-ground 
 that lay next to the ball-field. When most of the people 
 had passed, an old man came along the road. He walked 
 slowly and with a cane, and in one hand carried a large 
 bunch of lilacs and lilies of the valley. Roddy Wilkinson, 
 the boy under the tree, saw that the old man wore a 
 broad-brimmed black hat like the other old men who 
 had gone by, and had a little copper button in the lapel 
 of his coat; but it did not interest him. 
 
 When the old man saw the big maple, he stopped, and 
 
210 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 took off his hat and wiped his forehead, for the day was 
 hot. Then he went over toward Roddy, climbed the 
 little slope of the bank, and sat down. 
 
 At first he sat still, and said nothing; but in a little 
 while, seeing the ball and the bat, he looked down at 
 Roddy with a smile, and said, "Going to have a little 
 game?" 
 
 "No, sir, " Roddy answered. " I was going to, but my 
 father told me I must n't — at any rate, till afternoon. 
 I don't see what difference it makes — just because a 
 lot of people want to take flowers to the graveyard. I 
 did n't know any of those soldiers." 
 
 "No, of course not," said the old man, in a kindly 
 way. "You did n't know them, and they did n't know 
 you, but they thought about you a good deal." 
 
 "Who — me?" asked Roddy, with a puzzled look. 
 
 "Yes, about you and all the other boys who were to 
 come after them. That's why they did what they did. 
 They had to look a long way ahead, and think of others 
 instead of themselves. If they had thought only of 
 themselves, they would have stayed at home. 
 
 "Now there was Johnnie Cramer. He was only six- 
 teen — a boy just like you, who liked to coast and skate 
 and play ball, when he did n't have to work to help his 
 mother. He went as a drummer-boy, and they said 
 that before the year was out, he was the best drummer 
 in his corps. But one night, after a big battle, he was 
 missing, and some of the men went out to look for him 
 with lanterns. They found him lying dead across his 
 
"They felt sure that the. boys who came after them would learn 
 from them the lesson of how to do the hard thing if it is the right 
 thing," he said. 
 
212 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 drum, with the sticks still fast in his hands. He lies just 
 over the wall there"; and the old man pointed toward 
 the graveyard. 
 
 "And there was Larry Owen. He was the color-ser- 
 geant, — carried the flag, you know, — and when they 
 were charging up a hill, and a bullet cut the flagstaff in 
 two, Larry caught the colors, and carried them on half- 
 way up the slope. As he fell, he passed the flag to his 
 chum, Joe Woodman, and then Joe carried it. He fell 
 just as his regiment took the hill. 
 
 "Of course, not all the boys were killed. A great many 
 of them came back, but some of them were crippled, and 
 all of them had lost four of the best years of their life. 
 They found it hard to catch up with those who stayed 
 at home; so most of them have been poor, and have had 
 to work hard since. But they have never been sorry; 
 they did what was right, and no one is ever sorry who 
 does that. 
 
 "I think the only thing that could make them sorry 
 would be the feeling that we had forgotten them, or had 
 never understood what they did and why they did it. 
 They felt sure that we would always remember, and 
 especially that the boys who came after them would 
 learn from them the lesson of how to do the hard thing 
 if it is the right thing. 
 
 "That is why I always come over here on Memorial 
 Day. It may not do any good to those boys that lie over 
 there in the grass under the trees, but it does me good. 
 I go over there, and say to myself, 'Johnnie Cramer, we 
 
A GAME POSTPONED 213 
 
 have come again because we have not forgotten; here's 
 something to show that we still keep you in mind. 
 Larry Owen, the country remembers, and sends these 
 flowers. Joe, you fought a good fight, and your name 
 shall not fade.'" 
 
 The old man got up slowly, and said, " It will not be 
 long till afternoon, and then you can have your game." 
 
 But Roddy had got up, too, the sour look gone from 
 his face, and something of eagerness and of shame glow- 
 ing there instead. 
 
 "I won't play!" he cried. "I don't want any game! 
 Give me some of those flowers, and let me go with you !" 
 
The Scratching on the Door 
 
 ALL winter Bobby had been counting the days until 
 spring; for his father had promised him that this 
 year he should go with his big brothers to the 
 sugar-camp back in the hills and help to make the family 
 supply of maple syrup and sugar. And now the time 
 had come, and Bobby was really there in the camp, a 
 snug cabin nestling in a big stretch of woods, with a clear 
 spring and a lively little brook near by. It seemed too 
 good to believe ! For three days now he had been there, 
 without going home at all. Someone went out to the 
 farmhouse every day and brought in a great basket of 
 good things to eat; and at night Bobby slept in a little 
 bunk in the corner, on a bed of sweet-smelling balsam 
 boughs. 
 
 To people who are not used to the northern hills in 
 March it would not have seemed like spring, for the 
 snow still lay thick in the woods, showing as plainly as 
 the page of a book how and where the rabbits and the 
 partridges got their dinner, and how the foxes followed 
 the little wood-mice along their zigzag pathways, and 
 at last pounced upon them and gobbled them up. In 
 the morning and the evening it was still very cold. Ice 
 formed thick in the spring hole, and the snow went 
 crunch, crunch, when anyone walked on it; b\it in the 
 middle of the day the sun shone warm, the crows flew 
 
Bobby had been busy every minute. Sometimes he helped to empty 
 buckets, and sometimes he drove old Buck harnessed to the 
 sleigh that drew the sap to camp. 
 
2i6 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 back and forth, calling loudly to one another; and all 
 about, when it was still, you could hear the drip of the 
 sap as it fell into the buckets. 
 
 Bobby had been busy every minute. Sometimes he 
 helped to empty the buckets, sometimes he dipped the 
 scum from the boiling sap in the great evaporating-pan, 
 sometimes he drove old Buck, harnessed to the big sled 
 that drew the sap to camp. All of it was such fun as he 
 had never known before. 
 
 But now, on the evening of the third day, he did not 
 feel quite so happy, for he was to be all alone until nearly 
 morning. That afternoon his father had slipped on an 
 ice-covered root and sprained his ankle, and the two 
 older boys, Bobby's brothers, had had to put him on the 
 sled and carry him home. They had told Bobby what to 
 do — that he must not go to sleep, but must sit up to 
 skim the sap and keep the fire going; and they had left 
 a pile of wood, carefully picked, of sticks small enough 
 for him to lift. 
 
 "Now," said Edgar, "don't be afraid. There is noth- 
 ing that will hurt you, and we shall come :back as soon 
 as we can." 
 
 So Bobby was left all alone in the great woods, miles 
 from any other house. 
 
 It was very still. Once a big owl somewhere off in 
 the night called, "Whoo! Whoo! Whoo-whoo, whoo!" 
 But Bobby knew who he was, and so was not afraid. 
 And then he heard a fox bark snappishly, as if scolding; 
 but a fox could not hurt^ and so that did not frighten 
 
THE SCRATCHING ON THE DOOR 217 
 
 him, either. Then, as he sat there all alone, he thought 
 he should like to make some maple "wax," by cooling 
 thick syrup until it was tough and "chewy." So he 
 hunted about the cabin until he found an empty can 
 that had held baked beans. He washed it out carefully, 
 poured the hot syrup into it, and, opening the door, set 
 the can in the deep snow outside, and went in again to 
 tend the fire. When he had filled the great brick fire-box 
 he sat down to rest a bit. He cannot tell how long he sat 
 there, for he thinks he must have fallen asleep for a 
 minute or two, in spite of what his brother Edgar had 
 said. The first thing he knew, there was a slight sound 
 of crunching on the snow outside, as if someone was 
 trying to walk very carefully, but was scuffing his feet a 
 little. Then came a gentle foof! foof! as if something 
 were snuffing at the crack of the door. 
 
 Bobby held his breath, but his heart beat so fast that 
 it seemed as if he could hardly breathe. In a little while 
 he heard more crunching and scuffing, .and then a noise 
 as if some animal were eating — a kind of chup! chup! 
 such as a pig makes when the skimmed milk tastes better 
 than usual. 
 
 Bobby was now really scared. What if it were a bear 
 or a bobcat, and should try to get in ! He looked round 
 the cabin to see what he could use to fight with. There 
 was the axe, of course, but it was too heavy for him. No, 
 that would not do. Then he saw the long-handled dip- 
 per, That might do! He could fill it with boiling sap 
 and throw \X into the face of anj^thing that should try to 
 get in. 
 
2i8 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 And then his heart almost stopped beating alto- 
 gether, for a terrible racket began just outside the door. 
 There were whines and cries as of some animal in pain, 
 and the scratching of claws on the door, and at last two 
 or three thumps against the side of the cabin. Bobby- 
 reached for the dipper and filled it from the part of the 
 pan where the sap was boiling most furiously. But just 
 as he lifted it, and stood there, waiting and trembling, 
 
 The baby bear had smelled the syrup. 
 
 his ear caught another sound — the sweetest he had 
 ever heard. 
 
 "Get on there, Buck! Come back into the road ! What 
 ails you, anyTvay.^" It was Edgar calUng to the horse. 
 The boys were coming! 
 
 Bobby threw the door open just as the sled drew up 
 before the cabin. As the boys jumped off and Bobby 
 rushed out, they saw something rolling about in thq 
 
THE SCRATCHING ON THE DOOR 219 
 
 snow and whining and clawing the air; and in the clear 
 moonlight they caught a glimpse of something bright 
 and shiny. There, almost at their feet, was the smallest 
 cub bear that Bobby had ever seen. Its head, clear back 
 to its neck, was thrust deep into Bobby's can of maple 
 "wax," and wedged there. It was plain that the baby 
 bear had smelled the syrup and, being as fond of sweets 
 as Bobby himself was, had thrust his head into the can 
 and been caught by the jagged edges of tin round the 
 top. It was not until nearly a week afterwards that they 
 heard how the old she-bear, coaxed from her winter's 
 den for the first time by the warm sun of the day before, 
 had been shot by a wood-chopper. When she did not 
 come back, her hungry baby had started out to look for 
 breakfast, and so had fallen into trouble. 
 
 Of course, Bobby was allowed to keep the cub, and 
 great times the two of them had, playing together, until 
 the bear got so big that it was not regarded as safe to 
 keep him any longer. Then Bobby gave him to the 
 "Zoo" in a city not far from his home, and there he is 
 yet, a full-grown bear now, and not at all careful about 
 the way he dresses ; for the last time Bobby saw him, the 
 seat of his trousers was all worn bare and rusty-looking. 
 But, as Bobby says, what could you expect? That is 
 the only pair of trousers he ever had. 
 
The Tree that Fought for France 
 
 ONE hot September day in the fall of 1915, a little 
 boy lay quietly on his back, looking up through 
 the branches of a great tree that spread its pro- 
 tecting shade above him. He was thinking of the tree, 
 and of all that it had seen, and of what it could tell if 
 only its whispering leaves could talk; for he had heard 
 a part of the story many times, and he wished that he 
 could hear the tree tell the whole of it. 
 
 It was his great-grandfather, Philip Le Blanc, and his 
 great-grandmother who had come there first, so long 
 ago that there were no houses and no other people any- 
 where near. When they saw the tree, which even then 
 was greater than any round it, and when they had drunk 
 of the spring that watered its roots, his great-grand- 
 mother had said, "Here let us stay." So they un- 
 yoked the oxen from the great wagon and began to 
 make a home in the wilderness. But all that first sum- 
 mer the tree was their real home, for under it they cook- 
 ed and ate their meals, and under it they slept when 
 the nights were hot. 
 
 And by and by,- even before they had finished the log 
 cabin on the little knoll to the east, a son was born to 
 them; and him, too, they called PhiHp; and his father 
 said when he named him, " I have little to give thee, my 
 son ; but what God gave to me, that give I also to thee, 
 
THE TREE THAT FOUGHT FOR FRANCE 221 
 
 Thou shalt have the great tree that has sheltered us in 
 the wilderness, and that was thy first home. It shall 
 be thine forever." And so the tree came very early to be 
 known as "Philip's tree." 
 
 The second Philip, who was the little boy's grand- 
 father, had spent his life in making the forests into 
 fields and in planting corn and wheat, and he, too, had 
 a son whom he named Philip; and when he christened 
 him he said, "My son, I have much to give thee, but 
 nothing else so beautiful as the great tree that I had of 
 my father. That, then, shall be your christening gift." 
 And so the tree was still called "Philip's tree"; but this 
 time the Philip that was meant was the little boy's 
 father. 
 
 Those things, of course, the little boy could not re- 
 member, for they happened long before he was born; 
 but what he did remember was the day when his father 
 had first told him the story of the tree, and at the end 
 had said, "And now, my son, as my grandfather, the 
 first Philip Le Blanc, gave the tree to my father, so I, 
 the third in line, and the third to bear the name, now 
 give it to you, for your very own, to love and cherish as 
 we have loved and cherished it." 
 
 All those things the little boy thought of as he lay 
 there and watched the sunlight dotting the leaves with 
 gold. "And it is now my tree," he said happily to him- 
 self; "my very own." 
 
 He thought that he had spoken only to himself, and 
 so he was startled to hear a little rustle in the grass and 
 
222 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 a man's voice saying, "Yours, is it, my son? Then you 
 are a lucky boy, for there are few Hke it now." Then the 
 stranger asked where the Httle boy's father was, and 
 went over to the house to see him. 
 
 PhiHp saw him go in at the front door, and after a 
 little while come out again, but this time Philip's father 
 was with him. The two of them crossed the dooryard 
 and the road, and came over to where Philip was sitting. 
 
 "There!" said PhiHp's father. "Ask him yourself." 
 And he smiled. 
 
 Then the stranger said, "My boy, who owns this 
 tree.?" 
 
 Philip rose to his feet, for, although he could not tell 
 why, it seemed as if something great was at hand — 
 something in the presence of which it was not fitting to 
 remain seated. So he stood up straight before the man 
 and said, "I own it, sir." 
 
 "And will you sell it — to me — for a great deal of 
 money — for a hundred dollars?" 
 
 For a moment Philip looked at the man in wonder. 
 "Sell it?" he said. "Sell my tree? No, sir." 
 
 Then the stranger turned to Philip's father. "May I 
 tell him the story?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, tell him. Tell him as you told me; for the tree 
 is his, and he shall decide for himself." 
 
 And so, as they sat there under the tree, the stranger 
 told the little boy of the great war : of how French men 
 had been killed and French women had been driven 
 from their homes and little French children were starv- 
 
THE TREE THAT FOUGHT FOR FRANCE 223 
 
 ing. He spoke of the many things that France needed 
 and could get only in this country; and then he rose and, 
 laying his hand on the trunk of the tree, he said, "She 
 needs your tree. She needs it for gunstocks, for it is a 
 black walnut, and so large that it will make hundreds of 
 stocks, and of no other wood can good stocks be made. 
 It is a noble tree. It has been in your family for genera- 
 tions, — I know the story, — and it is like an old and 
 dear friend. But your people and your father's people 
 came from France many years ago to help this country 
 when it was poor, and the land has blessed them and 
 made them rich. Now France needs your help — she 
 needs your tree. Will you sell it to me — to fight for 
 France?" 
 
 The little boy looked with wide, startled eyes at his 
 father. "Is it true, father, what the man says?" 
 
 "Yes, my son, it is all true." 
 
 Philip turned to the stranger. "Then you may have 
 my tree," he said. "But I will not sell it to you, I will 
 give it to France." 
 
 "Will you let him do it?" asked the man of Philip's 
 father. 
 
 "It is his, and he has done as he wished," said his 
 father, and laid his hand on Philip's head. Then he and 
 the man walked away together. 
 
 In a week workmen came with saws and axes and laid 
 the great tree low. Then they brought a little mill and 
 cut the log into blocks and the blocks into slices and the 
 slices into strips, and loaded them on trucks and hauled 
 
224 UNCLE ZEB AND HIS FRIENDS 
 
 them away. And the place where the tree had stood was 
 lonesome and bare. But as PhiHp thought of the strips 
 of wood that the trucks had hauled away, it seemed to 
 him that every one of them was a tough little brown 
 soldier gone to fight for France. 
 
 I do not know who told the story, or how it got across 
 the sea, but a little more than a year afterwards there 
 came to Philip a big wooden box'with strange, foreign- 
 looking labels on it; and within was a case of polished 
 walnut that held a wonderfully beautiful rifle. The 
 metal parts were richly engraved, and the stock was of 
 that lovely curly wood that comes only from the part of 
 the tree where the trunk joins the roots ; and set into the 
 stock was a plate of gold on which was engraved : — 
 
 / 
 
 To 
 Philip Le Blanc 
 The Republic of France 
 makes this grateful acknowledgment 
 of a boy's noble and warm- 
 hearted gift 
 
 Never again will the birds sing in the branches of the 
 old walnut, but in a boy's heart will sing throughout all 
 his life voices sweeter than those of bird or flute, for they 
 are the voices of patriotism and sacrifice and service. 
 
 THE END 
 
 "*»■«■ 
 

 ft. 
 
 Bill 1 ' H"