Back to the Woods | Page 8

earth, however, and in the
presence of so many new excitements she didn't even question me with
regard to my City trip.
As the evening wore on my nervousness increased and I began to
wonder if Bunch would really turn the trick or give me the loud snicker
and leave me flat.
I had gone too far now to confess everything to Clara J. She'd never
forgive me.
If I told her the facts in the case the long Arctic Winter Night would set
in, and I'd be playing an icicle on the window frame.
I felt as lonely as a coal scuttle during the strike.
About six o'clock Uncle Peter waded into the sitting room, flushed and
happy as a school boy. "I've just left the garden," he chuckled.
"No, you haven't," I said, glancing at his shoes; "you've brought most
of it in here with you."
I never touched him. The old gentleman sat down in a loud rocker and
began to tell me a lot of things I didn't want to hear. Uncle Peter always
intersperses his remarks on current topics with bits of parboiled
philosophy that make one want to get up and drive him through the
carpet with a tack hammer. When it comes to wise saws and proverbial

stunts Uncle Peter has Solomon backed up in the corner.
"John," he said, "this country life is great. Early to bed and early to rise
makes a man's stomach digest mince pies--how's that? Notice the air
out here? How pure and fresh and bracing! You ought to go out and run
a mile, John!"
"I'd like to run ten miles," I answered, truthfully.
"Exercise, that's the essence of life, my boy!" he continued. "I firmly
believe I could run five miles to-day without straining a muscle."
I laughed internally and thought of the glorious opportunity he'd have
before the morning broke.
"You may or may not know, John," the old gentleman kept on, "that I
was a remarkably fine swordsman in my younger days. Parry, thrust,
cut, slash--heigho! those were the times. And, to tell you the truth, I'm
still able to hold my own with the sword or pistol. I found a sword
hanging on the wall in the hall to-day and I've been practising a few
swings."
A vision of Uncle Peter running a rusty sword into the interior
department of the disguised and disgusted Bunch rose before me, but I
blew it away with a laugh.
"He laughs best who laughs in his sleeve," chuckled the old party.
"Now that we're out in the country all of us should learn to handle a
sword or a pistol. It gives us self reliance. It's very different from living
in the city, I tell you. A tramp in the lock-up is worth two in the kitchen.
I shot at a mark for an hour to-day."
"What with?" I gasped.
"With a bow and arrow I bought for Tacks yesterday directly I learned
we were coming to the country. I hit the bull's eye five out of six times.
An ounce of prevention is worth two hundred pounds of policemen,
you know. Tacks practised, too, and drove an arrow through a strange
man's overalls and was chased half a mile for his skill in marksmanship,
but, as I said before, the exercise will do him good."
"Where do you keep this bow and arrow?" I inquired, with a studied
assumption of carelessness.
"To-night I'll keep it under my pillow. _Honi soit qui oncle Pierre_,
which means, evil be to him who monkeys with Uncle Peter," he said,
solemnly. "To-morrow I'm going to town to buy a bull dog revolver,
maybe a bull dog and a revolver, for a dog in the manger is the noblest

Roman of them all."
I could see poor Bunch scooting across the lawn with a bunch of arrows
in his ramparts and Uncle Peter behind, prodding his citadel with a
carving knife.
I began to get a hunch that our plan of campaign was threatened with
an attack of busy Uncle Peter, and I had just about decided to remove
his door key and lock the old man up in his room when Clara J. came in
to announce dinner.
Aunt Martha and Clara J. had collaborated on the dinner and it was a
success. Uncle Peter said so, and his appetite is one of those brave
fighting machines that never says die till every plate is clean.
I was so nervous I couldn't eat a bite, but I pleaded a toothache, so they
all gave me the sympathetic stare and passed me up.
We went to bed early and I rehearsed mentally the stage business for
the drama about to be enacted when Bunch crept through the picket
lines.
About midnight a