, for his arrival
was happily fallen on a brief spell of good humour, and a strong,
fifteen-year-old boy is a distinct asset on a farm.

Chapter 3. Rolf Catches a Coon and Finds a Friend

Aunt Prue, sharp-eyed and red-nosed, was actually shy at first, but
all formality vanished as Rolf was taught the mysteries of pig-feeding,
hen-feeding, calf-feeding, cow-milking, and launched by list only in
a vast number of duties familiar to him from his babyhood. What a list
there was. An outsider might have wondered if Aunt Prue was saving
anything for herself, but Rolf was used to toil. He worked without
ceasing and did his best, only to learn in time that the best could win
no praise, only avert punishment. The spells of good nature arrived more
seldom in his uncle's heart. His aunt was a drunken shrew and soon Rolf
looked on the days of starving and physical misery with his mother as
the days of his happy youth gone by.

He was usually too tired at night and too sleepy in the morning to say
his prayers, and gradually he gave it up as a daily habit. The more he
saw of his kinsfolk, the more wickedness came to view; and yet it was
with a shock that he one day realized that some fowls his uncle brought
home by night were there without the owner's knowledge or consent. Micky
made a jest of it, and intimated that Rolf would have to "learn to do
night work very soon." This was only one of the many things that showed
how evil a place was now the orphan's home.

At first it was not clear to the valiant uncle whether the silent boy
was a superior to be feared, or an inferior to be held in fear, but
Mick's courage grew with non-resistance, and blows became frequent;
although not harder to bear than the perpetual fault-finding and
scolding of his aunt, and all the good his mother had implanted was
being shrivelled by the fires of his daily life.

Rolf had no chance to seek for companions at the village store, but an
accident brought one to him. Before sunrise one spring morning he went,
as usual, to the wood lot pasture for the cow, and was surprised to find
a stranger, who beckoned him to come. On going near he saw a tall
man with dark skin and straight black hair that was streaked with
gray--undoubtedly an Indian. He held up a bag and said, "I got coon
in that hole. You hold bag there, I poke him in." Rolf took the sack
readily and held it over the hole, while the Indian climbed the tree to
a higher opening, then poked in this