Eben Holden | Page 4

I remember well the scene of
our little camp that morning. We had come to a strange country, and
there was no road in sight. A wooded hill lay back of us, and, just
before, ran a noisy little brook, winding between smooth banks,
through a long pasture into a dense wood. Behind a wall on the
opposite shore a great field of rustling corn filled a broad valley and

stood higher than a man's head.
While I went to wash my face in the clear water Uncle Eb was husking
some ears of corn that he took out of his pocket, and had them roasting
over the fire in a moment. We ate heartily, giving Fred two big slices of
bread and butter, packing up with enough remaining for another day.
Breakfast over we doused the fire and Uncle Eb put on his basket He
made after a squirrel, presently, with old Fred, and brought him down
out of a tree by hurling stones at him and then the faithful follower of
our camp got a bit of meat for his breakfast. We climbed the wall, as he
ate, and buried ourselves in the deep corn. The fragrant, silky tassels
brushed my face and the corn hissed at our intrusion, crossing its green
sabers in our path. Far in the field my companion heaped a little of the
soft earth for a pillow, spread the oil cloth between rows and, as we lay
down, drew the big shawl over us. Uncle Eb was tired after the toil of
that night and went asleep almost as soon as he was down. Before I
dropped off Fred came and licked my face and stepped over me, his tail
wagging for leave, and curled upon the shawl at my feet. I could see no
sky in that gloomy green aisle of corn. This going to bed in the
morning seemed a foolish business to me that day and I lay a long time
looking up at the rustling canopy overhead. I remember listening to the
waves that came whispering out of the further field, nearer and nearer,
until they swept over us with a roaring swash of leaves, like that of
water flooding among rocks, as I have heard it often. A twinge of
homesick ness came to me and the snoring of Uncle Eb gave me no
comfort. I remember covering my head and crying softly as I thought of
those who had gone away and whom I was to meet in a far country,
called Heaven, whither we were going. I forgot my sorrow, finally, in
sleep. When I awoke it had grown dusk under the corn. I felt for Uncle
Eb and he was gone. Then I called to him.
'Hush, boy! lie low,' he whispered, bending over me, a sharp look in his
eye.' 'Fraid they're after us.'
He sat kneeling beside me, holding Fred by the collar and listening. I
could hear voices, the rustle of the corn and the tramp of feet near by. It
was thundering in the distance - that heavy, shaking thunder that seems

to take hold of the earth, and there were sounds in the corn like the
drawing of sabers and the rush of many feet. The noisy thunder clouds
came nearer and the voices that had made us tremble were no longer
heard. Uncle Eb began to fasten the oil blanket to the stalks of corn for
a shelter. The rain came roaring over us. The sound of it was like that
of a host of cavalry coming at a gallop. We lay bracing the stalks, the
blanket tied above us and were quite dry for a time. The rain rattled in
the sounding sheaves and then came flooding down the steep gutters.
Above us beam and rafter creaked, swaying, and showing glimpses of
the dark sky. The rain passed - we could hear the last battalion leaving
the field - and then the tumult ended as suddenly as it began. The corn
trembled a few moments and hushed to a faint whisper. Then we could
hear only the drip of raindrops leaking through the green roof. It was
dark under the corn.
Chapter 2
We heard no more of the voices. Uncle Eb had brought an armful of
wood, and some water in the teapot, while I was sleeping. As soon as
the rain had passed he stood listening awhile and shortly opened his
knife and made a little clearing in the corn by cutting a few hills.
'We've got to do it,' he said, 'er we can't take any comfort, an' the man
tol' me I could have all the corn I wanted.'
'Did you see him, Uncle Eb?' I remember asking.
'Yes,' he answered, whittling in the dark. 'I