irresolutely approached from
around the wood pile, with long neck out-stretched and undulating gait,
applying first one eye and then the other to the pink hands, for the
gobbler seemed to consider them a perpetual repository of corn-dodgers,
which indeed they were. Then the head and the wabbling red wattles would
dart forth with a sudden peck, and the shriek that ensued proved that
nothing could be much amiss with the Kittredge lungs.

One fine day he sat thus in the red November sunset. The sky, seen
through the interlacing black boughs above his head, was all amber and
crimson, save for a wide space of pure and pallid green, against which
the purplish-garnet wintry mountains darkly gloomed. Beyond the
rail fence the avenues of the bare woods were carpeted with the
sere yellowish leaves that gave back the sunlight with a responsive
illuminating effect, and thus the sylvan visitas glowed. The long
slanting beams elongated his squatty little shadow till it was hardly
a caricature. He heard the cow lowing as she came to be milked, fording
the river where the clouds were so splendidly reflected. The chickens
were going to roost. The odor of the wood, the newly-hewn chips,
imparted a fresh and fragrant aroma to the air. He had found among
them a sweet-gum ball and a pine cone, and was applying them to the
invariable test of taste. Suddenly he dropped them with a nervous
start, his lips trembled, his lower jaw fell, he was aware of a stealthy
approach. Something was creeping behind the wood-pile. He hardly had
time to bethink himself of his enemy the gobbler when he was clutched
under the arm, swung through the air with a swiftness that caused
the scream to evaporate in his throat, and the next moment he looked
quakingly up into his father's face with unrecognizing eyes; for he had
forgotten Absalom in these few weeks. He squirmed and wriggled as he was
held on the pommel of the saddle, winking and catching his breath and
spluttering, as preliminary proceedings to an outcry. There was a sudden
sound of heavily shod feet running across the puncheon floor within, a
wild, incoherent exclamation smote the air, an interval of significant
silence ensued.

"Get up!" cried Absalom, not waiting for Tim's rifle, but spurring the
young horse, and putting him at the fence. The animal rose with the
elasticity and lightness of an uprearing ocean wave. The baby once more
twisted his soft neck, and looked anxiously into the rider's face.