Eben Holden | Page 7

over the mountain north an' t' Paradise Road. Then take the
white church on yer right shoulder an' go straight west'
I would not have remembered it so well but for the fact that Uncle Eb
wrote it all down in his account book and that has helped me over many
a slippery place in my memory of those events. At the store we got
some crackers and cheese, tea and coffee, dried beef and herring, a bit
of honey and a loaf of bread that was sliced and buttered before it was
done up. We were off in the woods by nine o'clock, according to Uncle
Eb's diary, and I remember the trail led us into thick brush where I had
to get out and walk a long way. It was smooth under foot, however, and
at noon we came to a slash in the timber, full of briars that were all
aglow with big blackberries. We filled our hats with them and Uncle
Eb found a spring, beside which we built a fire and had a memorable
meal that made me glad of my hunger.
Then we spread the oilcloth and lay down for another sleep. We could
see the glow of the setting sun through the tree-tops when we woke,
and began our packing.
'We'll hev t' hurry,' said Uncle Eb, 'er we'll never git out o' the woods
t'night 'S 'bout six mile er more t' Paradise Road, es I mek it. Come, yer
slower 'n a toad in a tar barrel.'
We hurried off on the trail and I remember Fred looked very crestfallen
withtwo big packages tied to his collar. He delayed a bit by trying to
shake them off, but Uncle Eb gave him a sharp word or two and then he
walked along very thoughtfully. Uncle Eb was a little out of patience
that evening, and I thought he bore down too harshly in his rebuke of
the old dog.

'You shif'less cuss,' he said to him, 'ye'd jes' dew nothin' but chase
squirrels an' let me break my back t' carry yer dinner.'
It was glooming fast in the thick timber, and Uncle Eb almost ran with
me while the way was plain. The last ringing note of the wood thrush
had died away and in a little while it was so dark I could distinguish
nothing but the looming mass of tree tranks.
He stopped suddenly and strained his eyes in the dark. Then he
whistled a sharp, sliding note, and the sound of it gave me some hint of
his trouble.
'Git down, Willie,' said he, 'an' tek my hand. I'm 'fraid we're lost here 'n
the big woods.'
We groped about for a minute, trying to find the trail.
'No use,' he said presently, 'we'll hev t' stop right here. Oughter known
berter 'n t' come through s' near sundown. Guess it was more 'n
anybody could do.'
He built a fire and began to lay out a supper for us then, while Fred sat
down by me to be relieved of his bundles. Our supper was rather dry,
for we had no water, but it was only two hours since we left the spring,
so we were not suffering yet Uncle Eb took out of the fire a burning
brand of pine and went away into the gloomy woods, holding it above
his head, while Fred and I sat by the fire.
''S lucky we didn't go no further,' he said, as he came in after a few
-minutes. 'There's a big prec'pice over yender. Dunno how deep 't is.
Guess we'd a found out purty soon.'
He cut some boughs of hemlock, growing near us, and spread them in a
little hollow. That done, we covered them with the oilcloth, and sat
down comfortably by the fire. Uncle Eb had a serious look and was not
inclined to talk or story telling. Before turning in he asked me to kneel
and say my prayer as I had done every evening at the feet of my mother.
I remember, clearly, kneeling before my old companion and hearing the

echo of my small voice there in the dark and lonely woods.
I remember too, and even more clearly, how he bent his head and
covered his eyes in that brief moment. I had a great dread of darkness
and imagined much evil of the forest, but somehow I had no fear if he
were near me. When we had fixed the fire and lain down for the night
on the fragrant hemlock and covered ourselves with the shawl, Uncle
Eb lay on one side of me and old Fred on the other, so I felt secure
indeed. The night had many voices there in the deep wood. Away in the