Eben Holden | Page 3

been in that home. Some were for sending me to the
county house; but they decided, finally, to turn me over to a dissolute
uncle, with some allowance for my keep. Therein Uncle Eb was to be
reckoned with. He had set his heart on keeping me, but he was a
farm-hand without any home or visible property and not, therefore, in
the mind of the authorities, a proper guardian. He had me with him in
the old house, and the very night he heard they were coming after me in
the morning, we started on our journey. I remember he was a long time
tying packages of bread and butter and tea and boiled eggs to the rim of
the basket, so that they hung on the outside. Then he put a woollen
shawl and an oilcloth blanket on the bottom, pulled the straps over his
shoulders and buckled them, standing before the looking-glass, and,
hang put on my cap and coat, stood me on the table, and stooped so that
I could climb into the basket - a pack basket, that he had used in
hunting, the top a little smaller than the bottom. Once in, I could stand
comfortably or sit facing sideways, my back and knees wedged from
port to starboard. With me in my place he blew out the lantern and
groped his way to the road, his cane in one hand, his rifle in the other.
Fred, our old dog - a black shepherd, with tawny points - came after us.
Uncle Eb scolded him and tried to send him back, but I pleaded for the
poor creature and that settled it, he was one of our party.
'Dunno how we'll feed him,' said Uncle Eb. 'Our own mouths are big
enough t' take all we can carry, but I hain' no heart t' leave 'im all 'lone
there.'
I was old for my age, they tell me, and had a serious look and a wise
way of talking, for a boy so young; but I had no notion of what lay
before or behind us.
'Now, boy, take a good look at the old house,' I remember he whispered
to me at the gate that night ''Tain't likely ye'll ever see it ag'in. Keep
quiet now,' he added, letting down the bars at the foot of the lane.
'We're goin' west an' we mustn't let the grass grow under us. Got t'be
purty spry I can'tell ye.'
It was quite dark and he felt his way carefully down the cow-paths into
the broad pasture. With every step I kept a sharp lookout for swifts, and

the moon shone after a while, making my work easier.
I had to hold my head down, presently, when the tall brush began to
whip the basket and I heard the big boots of Uncle Eb ripping the briars.
Then we came into the blackness of the thick timber and I could hear
him feeling his way over the dead leaves with his cane. I got down,
shortly, and walked beside him, holding on to the rifle with one hand.
We stumbled, often, and were long in the trail before we could see the
moonlight through the tree columns. In the clearing I climbed to my
seat again and by and by we came to the road where my companion sat
down resting his load on a boulder.
'Pretty hot, Uncle Eb, pretty hot,' he said to himself, fanning his brow
with that old felt hat he wore everywhere. 'We've come three mile er
more without a stop an' I guess we'd better rest a jiffy.'
My legs ached too, and I was getting very sleepy. I remember the jolt
of the basket as he rose, and hearing him say, 'Well, Uncle Eb, I guess
we'd better be goin'.'
The elbow that held my head, lying on the rim of the basket, was
already numb; but the prickling could no longer rouse me, and
half-dead with weariness, I fell asleep. Uncle Eb has told me since, that
I tumbled out of the basket once, and that he had a time of it getting me
in again, but I remember nothing more of that day's history.
When I woke in the morning, I could hear the crackling of fire, and felt
very warm and cosy wrapped in the big shawl. I got a cheery greeting
from Uncle Eb, who was feeding the fire with a big heap of sticks that
he had piled together. Old Fred was licking my hands with his rough
tongue, and I suppose that is what waked me. Tea was steeping in the
little pot that hung over the fire, and our breakfast of boiled eggs and
bread and butter lay on a paper beside it.