The Boy with the U.S. Census | Page 9

trash from the gullies," he said, "no, they don't count one
way or the other."
"What happened after you got that message?" asked the boy.
"Nothin' much, for a while, though I was snoopin' aroun' the mount'ns
consid'rable. I met the brothers sev'ral times, an' I know they could

have had me. But I had nothin' against them, nor they me, an' so it was
jes' left to Isaac an' me. Once I found him over near our pasture, but he
saw me an' got into cover. At last I found him in the open near our
house again, an' in easy range."
"Did you fire right away?" asked Hamilton excitedly.
"I didn't shoot. I got a lead on him, sure, but I jes' couldn't shoot
without warnin' him. It seemed kind o' mean to shoot him unawares, an'
as I didn't want to take an unfair advantage, I shouted to him. It was
pretty far off to be heard, but I could see that he recognized me. I was
only waitin' long enough to let him get his gun to his shoulder when
some one fired jes' behin' me. Howkle's bullet went through my arm,
but he dropped in his tracks. He thought I had shot him but my gun was
never fired off."
"Who was it that fired, Uncle Eli!"
"The brother o' the young fellow he had shot befo'."
"Was he dead?" asked the boy.
"Wa'al," said the mountaineer, a little grimly, "I didn' go down to see
an' wait aroun' 'till all his friends gathered. But I reckon he was dead
when they found him later."
"And the brothers?"
"They never came into the story at all. I'm jes' mentionin' this to yo' to
show yo' that thar's reason in my advisin' yo' to keep clar o' this district.
If you're reckonin' on doin' census work, yo' go somewhar that you're
not known to any one. Thar's trouble enough even for a stranger in the
mount'ns, an' a stranger would find it easier than any one else."
"Why is that, Uncle Eli?" asked the boy.
"In the first place, yo' can't show discourtesy to a stranger, an' yo' know
that if he doesn' do things jes' the way yo' like to have 'em done, it's

because he doesn' know, an' so he's not to blame. I like your spirit
about the census, Hamilton," the old mountaineer continued, "an' if yo'
can give the gov'nment any service, I reckon yo'd better try, but leave
the mount'n districts either to popular favorites or to a stranger."
CHAPTER II
RESCUING A LOST RACE
That same evening, as it chanced, one of the younger Wilsh boys came
up to the house on an errand from a neighbor, and Hamilton,
remembering that the messenger's father had been a go-between in the
feud story he had been hearing, noted the lad with interest. Indeed, his
appearance was striking enough in itself, with his drooping form, his
extreme paleness, and his look of exhaustion.
"How far is it from the Burtons, Uncle Eli?" asked Hamilton.
"Eight miles," was the reply.
Hamilton stared at the mountain boy. Judging from his looks he was
not strong enough to walk a hundred yards, yet he had just come eight
miles, and evidently was intending to walk back home that evening.
Then Hamilton remembered that this lad was one of the "poor whites"
of whom he had read so much, and he strolled toward the messenger
who was sitting listlessly on one of the steps.
"Howdy!" said the newcomer in a tired voice.
Hamilton answered his greeting, and, after a few disjointed sentences,
said:
"You look tired. It must be a long walk from the Burtons."
"Jes' tol'able," the boy answered. "I'm not so tired. You f'm the city?"
he queried a few minutes later, evidently noting the difference between
Hamilton's appearance and that of the boys in the neighborhood.

"Yes, New York," answered Hamilton.
But the stranger did not show any further curiosity and Hamilton was
puzzled to account for his general listlessness. He thought perhaps it
might be that the boy was unusually dull and so he asked:
"Are you still going to school?"
A negative shake of the head was the only reply.
"Why not? Isn't there a school near where you live?"
"Close handy, 'bout five miles," was the reply.
"Then why don't you go there?" questioned Hamilton further.
"Teacheh's gone."
"Funny time for holidays," the city boy remarked.
"Not gone fo' holidays."
"Oh, I see," said Hamilton, "you mean he's gone for good. But aren't
you going to have another one?"
"Dunno if he's gone for good," the mountain boy answered.
Hamilton stared in bewilderment.
"Cunjer got him," the other continued.
But this did not explain things any better.
"Cunjer?" repeated Hamilton. "You mean magic?"