The Calling of Dan Matthews | Page 5

across the mountain wilderness. The
first season after the road was finished the Doctor went to cast his hook
in new waters.
In all these after years those days so full of mystic beauty have lived in
the old man's memory, the brightest days of all his life. For it was there
he met the Boy--there in the Ozark hills, with their great ridges clothed
from base to crest with trees all quivering and nodding in the summer
breeze, with their quiet valleys, their cool hollows and lovely glades,
and their deep and solemn woods. And the streams! Those Ozark
streams! The Doctor wonders often if there can flow anywhere else
such waters as run through that land of dreams.
The Doctor left the train at a little station where the railroad crosses
White River, and two days later he was fishing near the mouth of Fall
Creek. It was late in the afternoon. The Boy was passing on his way
home from a point farther up the stream. Not more than twelve, but tall
and strong for his age, he came along the rough path at the foot of the
bluff with the easy movement and grace of a young deer. He checked a
moment when he saw the Doctor, as a creature of the forest would
pause at first sight of a human being. Then he came on again, his
manner and bearing showing frank interest, and the clear, sunny face of
him flushing a bit at the presence of a stranger.
"Hello," said the Doctor, with gruff kindness, "any luck?"
The boy's quick smile showed a set of teeth--the most perfect the
physician had ever seen, and his young voice was tuned to the music of
the woods, as he answered, "I have caught no fish, sir."
By these words and the light in his brown eyes the philosopher knew
him instantly for a true fisherman. He noted wonderingly that the lad's
speech was not the rude dialect of the backwoods, while he marveled at
the depth of wisdom in one so young. How incidental after all is the

catching of fish, to the one who fishes with true understanding. The
boy's answer was both an explanation and a question. It explained that
he did not go fishing for fish alone; and it asked of the stranger a
declaration of his standing--why did he go fishing? What did he mean
by fisherman's luck?
The Doctor deliberated over his reply, while slowly drawing in his line
to examine the bait. Meanwhile the boy stood quietly by regarding him
with a wide, questioning look. The man realized that much depended
upon his next word.
Then the lad's youth betrayed him into eagerness. "Have you been
farther up the river just around the bend, where the giant cottonwoods
are, and the bluffs with the pines above, and the willows along the
shore? Oh, but it's fine there! Much better than this."
He had given the stranger his chance. If the Doctor was to be admitted
into this boy's world he must now prove his right to citizenship.
Looking straight into the boy's brown eyes, the older fisherman asked,
"A better place to catch fish?"
He laughed aloud--a clear, clean, boyish laugh of understanding, and
throwing himself to the ground with the easy air of one entirely at
home, returned, "No, sir, a better place to fish." So it was settled, each
understanding the other.
An hour later when the shadow of the mountain came over the water,
the boy sprang to his feet with an exclamation, "It's time that I was
going, mother likes for me to be home for supper. I can just make it."
But the Doctor was loth to let him go. "Where do you live?" he asked.
"Is it far?"
"Oh, no, only about six miles, but the trail is rough until you strike the
top of Wolf Ridge."
"Humph! You can't walk six miles before dark."

"My horse is only a little way up the creek," he answered, "or at least
he should be." Putting his fingers to his lips he blew a shrill whistle,
which echoed and re-echoed from shore to shore along the river, and
was answered by a loud neigh from somewhere in the ravine through
which Fall Creek reaches the larger stream. Again the boy whistled,
and a black pony came trotting out of the brush, the bridle hanging
from the saddle horn. "Tramp and I can make it all right, can't we old
fellow?" said the boy, patting the glossy neck, as the little horse rubbed
a soft muzzle against his young master's shoulder.
While his companion was making ready for his ride the Doctor selected
four of the largest of his catch--black bass they were--beauties. "Here,"
he said, when the lad