Eben Holden | Page 9

a mistake.'
We went further this time before releasing another. He showed us that
we had borne out of our course a little and as we turned to follow there
were half a dozen bees flying around the box, as if begging for
admission.
'Here they are back agin,' said Uncle Eb, 'an' they've told a lot o' their
cronies 'bout the man an' the boy with honey.'
At length one of them flew over our heads and back in the direction we
had come from.
'Ah, ha,' said Uncle Eb, 'it's a bee tree an' we've passed it, but I'm goin'
t' keep lettin' 'em in an' out. Never heard uv a swarm o' bees goin' fur
away an' so we mus' be near the clearin'.'
In a little while we let one go that took a road of its own. The others
had gone back over our heads; this one bore off to the right in front of
us, and we followed. I was riding in the basket and was first to see the
light of the open through the tree-tops. But I didn't know what it meant
until I heard the hearty 'hurrah' of Uncle Eb.
We had come to smooth footing in a grove of maples and the clean
trunks of the trees stood up as straight as a granite column. Presently
we came out upon wide fields of corn and clover, and as we looked

back upon the grove it had a rounded front and I think of it now as the
vestibule of the great forest
'It's a reg'lar big tomb,' said Uncle Eb, looking back over his shoulder
into the gloomy cavern of the woods.
We could see a log house in the clearing, and we made for it as fast as
our legs would carry us. We had amighty thirst and when we came to a
little brook in the meadow we laid down and drank and drank until we
were fairly grunting with fullness. Then we filled our teapot and went
on. Men were reaping with their cradles in a field of grain and, as we
neared the log house, a woman came out in the dooryard and, lifting a
shell to her lips, blew a blast that rushed over the clearing and rang in
the woods beyond it A loud halloo came back from the men.
A small dog rushed out at Fred, barking, and, I suppose, with some lack
of respect, for the old dog laid hold of him in a violent temper and sent
him away yelping. We must have presented an evil aspect, for our
clothes were torn and we were both limping with fatigue. The woman
had a kindly face and, after looking at us a moment, came and stooped
before me and held my small face in her hands turning it so she could
look into my eyes.
'You poor little critter,' said she, 'where you goin'?'
Uncle Eb told her something about my father and mother being dead
and our going west Then she hugged and kissed me and made me very
miserable, I remember, wetting my face with her tears, that were quite
beyond my comprehension.
'Jethro,' said she, as the men came into the yard, 'I want ye t' look at this
boy. Did ye ever see such a cunnin' little critter? Jes' look at them
bright eyes!' and then she held me to her breast and nearly smothered
me and began to hum a bit of an old song.
'Yer full o' mother love,' said her husband, as he sat down on the grass a
moment 'Lost her only baby, an' the good Lord has sent no other. I
swan, he has got putty eyes. Jes' as blue as a May flower. Ain't ye

hungry? Come right in, both o' ye, an' set down t' the table with us.'
They made room for us and we sat down between the bare elbows of
the hired men. I remember my eyes came only to the top of the table.
So the good woman brought the family Bible and sitting on that firm
foundation I ate my dinner of salt pork and potatoes and milk gravy a
diet as grateful as it was familiar to my taste.
'Orphan, eh?' said the man of the house, looking down at me.
'Orphan,' Uncle Eb answered, nodding his head.
'God-fearin' folks?'
'Best in the world,' said Uncle Eb.
Want t' bind 'im out?' the man asked.
'Couldn't spare 'im,' said Uncle Eb, decisively.
'Where ye goin'?'
Uncle Eb hesitated, groping for an answer, I suppose, that would do no
violence to our mutual understanding.
'Goin' t' heaven,' I ventured to say presently - an answer that gave rise
to conflicting emotions at the table.
'That's right,' said Uncle