is flannel nightgown. He sat
straight up. Surely this was his own bed: this was his own room: this
was his own house. He could scarcely believe his eyes. He gave a great
shout.

"Moo-oo-oo," answered a cow under a tree outside his window. And the
leaves of the tree rustled at him too.

"Hello, old cow! Hello, old tree!" cried Silly Will running to the
window. "Isn't it good we're all alive?" And when you think of it that
wasn't a silly remark at all!

"Moo-oo-oo," lowed the old cow. "Swish-sh-sh-sh," rustled the tree. And
suddenly Silly Will thought he understood! I wonder if he did!

EBEN'S COWS

This story attempts to make an industrial process a background for real
adventure.

EBEN'S COWS

PART 1

Eben was looking at the cows. And the cows were looking at Eben. What
Eben saw was twenty-six pairs of large gentle eyes, twenty-six mouths
chewing with a queer sidewise motion, twenty-six fine fat cattle, some
red, some white, some black, some red and white, and some black and
white, all in a bright green meadow. What the cows saw, held by his
mother on the rail fence, was a fat baby with a shining face and waving
arms. What Eben heard was the heavy squashy footsteps of the slow-moving
cows as they lumbered toward the little figure on the fence. What the
cows heard was a high, excited little voice saying a real word for the
first time in its life, "Cow! cow! oh, cow! oh, cow!" And so with his
first word began Eben's life-long friendship with the cows.

Eben Brewster lived in a little white farm-house with green blinds. The
cows lived in a great long red barn, which was connected with the little
white farm-house by a wagon-shed and tool-house. High up on the great
red barn was printed GREEN MOUNTAIN FARM. Long before Eben knew how to
read he knew what those big letters said, and he knew that the lovely
rolling hills that ringed the farm around, were called the Green
Mountains. In front of both house and barn stretched the bright green
meadows where day after day fed the twenty-six cows. In a neighboring
meadow played the long-legged calves. For at Green Mountain Farm there
were always many calves. In the summer they usually had fifteen or
twenty calves a few months old. For every cow of course had her baby
once a year. The little bull calves they sold; but the little cow
calves they raised.

[Illustration]

When Eben was three years old he