regulate his own birthday. Had that
been in his power he would certainly have set it a half century earlier
or later to avoid being constantly annoyed by the "onreasonablest
argeyments" Six Stars had ever heard. This made old Holmes smile
softly, and he turned and winked at me. The one thing he had ever been
thankful for, he said, was that his life had fallen with that of Isaac
Bolum. Whenever he done wrong; whenever the consciousness of sin was
upon him and he needed the chastisin' rod, he just went to the store
and set and listened to Ike. To this Isaac retorted that it was a
wonder the rod had not worn out long ago; it was pleasing to know, at
least, that he was made of tough old hickory. Henry admitted this to
be a "good 'un" on him--an unusual one, considering the source--but
that did not settle the exact date of the arrival of Piney Martin's
spring-bed.

It was time for me to protest that it mattered little whether the event
occurred on July sixth or a week later, since what really interested me
was the question as to who was the owner of the third of these
luxuries. Isaac's serious, self-conscious look answered me, but I
pressed the inquiry to give him an opportunity to sing the praises of
this newest of his household gods. Mr. Bolum's pleasure was evident.
Once launched into an account of the comfort of springs as compared to
a straw-tick on ropes, he would have monopolized our attention to the
end of the journey, but the sagacious Henry blocked him rudely by a tug
at the reins which almost threw the lemon-colored mules on their
haunches.

We were at the foot of the slope where the road to Buzzards Glory
branches from the pike. The Arkers had spied us coming, and ran down
from the tannery to greet us. Arnold, after he had a dozen times
expressed his delight at my return, asked if I had seen any shooting.
His son Sam's wife nudged him and whispered in his ear, upon which he
apologized abruptly, explaining that he had dropped his spectacles in
the tanning vat. Sam sought to extricate his father from these
imaginary difficulties by demanding that I go coon-hunting with him on
the next night. This set Sam's wife's elbow going again very
vigorously, and the further embarrassment of the whole family was saved
by Henry Holmes swinging the whip across the backs of the mules.

On went the state-coach of Black Log. We clattered quickly over the
last level stretch. We dragged up the last long hill, and fro