North of Boston | Page 6

saw through leafy screens?Great granite terraces in sun and shadow,?Shelves one could rest a knee on getting up--?With depths behind him sheer a hundred feet;?Or turn and sit on and look out and down,?With little ferns in crevices at his elbow.?"As to that I can't say. But there's the spring,?Right on the summit, almost like a fountain.?That ought to be worth seeing."?"If it's there.?You never saw it?"?"I guess there's no doubt?About its being there. I never saw it.?It may not be right on the very top:?It wouldn't have to be a long way down?To have some head of water from above,?And a good distance down might not be noticed?By anyone who'd come a long way up.?One time I asked a fellow climbing it?To look and tell me later how it was."?"What did he say?"?"He said there was a lake?Somewhere in Ireland on a mountain top."?"But a lake's different. What about the spring?"?"He never got up high enough to see.?That's why I don't advise your trying this side.?He tried this side. I've always meant to go?And look myself, but you know how it is:?It doesn't seem so much to climb a mountain?You've worked around the foot of all your life.?What would I do? Go in my overalls,?With a big stick, the same as when the cows?Haven't come down to the bars at milking time??Or with a shotgun for a stray black bear??'Twouldn't seem real to climb for climbing it."?"I shouldn't climb it if I didn't want to--?Not for the sake of climbing. What's its name?"?"We call it Hor: I don't know if that's right."?"Can one walk around it? Would it be too far?"?"You can drive round and keep in Lunenburg,?But it's as much as ever you can do,?The boundary lines keep in so close to it.?Hor is the township, and the township's Hor--?And a few houses sprinkled round the foot,?Like boulders broken off the upper cliff,?Rolled out a little farther than the rest."?"Warm in December, cold in June, you say?"?"I don't suppose the water's changed at all.?You and I know enough to know it's warm?Compared with cold, and cold compared with warm.?But all the fun's in how you say a thing."?"You've lived here all your life?"?"Ever since Hor?Was no bigger than a----" What, I did not hear.?He drew the oxen toward him with light touches?Of his slim goad on nose and offside flank,?Gave them their marching orders and was moving.
A Hundred Collars
LANCASTER bore him--such a little town,?Such a great man. It doesn't see him often?Of late years, though he keeps the old homestead?And sends the children down there with their mother?To run wild in the summer--a little wild.?Sometimes he joins them for a day or two?And sees old friends he somehow can't get near.?They meet him in the general store at night,?Pre-occupied with formidable mail,?Rifling a printed letter as he talks.?They seem afraid. He wouldn't have it so:?Though a great scholar, he's a democrat,?If not at heart, at least on principle.?Lately when coming up to Lancaster?His train being late he missed another train?And had four hours to wait at Woodsville Junction?After eleven o'clock at night. Too tired?To think of sitting such an ordeal out,?He turned to the hotel to find a bed.?"No room," the night clerk said. "Unless----"?Woodsville's a place of shrieks and wandering lamps?And cars that shook and rattle--and one hotel.?"You say 'unless.'"?"Unless you wouldn't mind?Sharing a room with someone else."?"Who is it?"?"A man."?"So I should hope. What kind of man?"?"I know him: he's all right. A man's a man.?Separate beds of course you understand."?The night clerk blinked his eyes and dared him on.?"Who's that man sleeping in the office chair??Has he had the refusal of my chance?"?"He was afraid of being robbed or murdered.?What do you say?"?"I'll have to have a bed."?The night clerk led him up three flights of stairs?And down a narrow passage full of doors,?At the last one of which he knocked and entered.?"Lafe, here's a fellow wants to share your room."?"Show him this way. I'm not afraid of him.?I'm not so drunk I can't take care of myself."?The night clerk clapped a bedstead on the foot.?"This will be yours. Good-night," he said, and went.?"Lafe was the name, I think?"?"Yes, Layfayette.?You got it the first time. And yours?"?"Magoon.?Doctor Magoon."?"A Doctor?"?"Well, a teacher."?"Professor Square-the-circle-till-you're-tired??Hold on, there's something I don't think of now?That I had on my mind to ask the first?Man that knew anything I happened in with.?I'll ask you later--don't let me forget it."?The Doctor looked at Lafe and looked away.?A man? A brute. Naked above the waist,?He sat there creased and shining in the light,?Fumbling the buttons in a well-starched shirt.?"I'm moving into a size-larger shirt.?I've felt mean lately; mean's no name for it.?I just found what the matter was to-night:?I've been a-choking like a nursery tree?When it outgrows the wire band of its name