they made sport of the work,
each trying to be first to reach the jug. Once the jug was secured, the
huskings ceased, and it was a fair contest between the corn's owner and
his guests to see how much or how little could be done before the
jug-shaped goal was reached.

Seated on the floor around the pile each of the huskers sought to make a
narrow cut in the corn before him to reach the prize more quickly. It
was the farmer's part to have the corn piled in such a toppling cone
that the ears above would roll down as fast as the inroads could be
made, and often the sliding ears entirely buried a husker. He must then
draw back to the edge of the pile and start again. The shout of victory
that went up when the prize was pulled forth warned the women folk at
the house that they must make ready for the coming of hungry men with
appetites well whetted on a product of corn. The next day, the
farmer-host, without help, shucked the ears that were left upon his
corn-crib floor.

Alvin with the mountainsides as his playground grew sturdy and resolute.
He had been put to work by his father when first old enough to hold a
hoe, to help about the house, pack water and bring in wood. The sparks
that bounced from the anvil in the shadow of the cave fascinated him and
he hung around the blacksmith's shop and learned to blow the bellows for
his father and keep the fire hot. He soon grew large enough to swing the
sledge, and he turned the shoes and made them ready. All of this wrapped
hard muscles over a body that was unusually large for his age. His
companions began to call him "The Big-un" and the by-name still clings
to him. This, together with a calmness and an unmatched reserve, gave
him the prestige of leader among his boy associates. At the age of
fifteen he swung the sledge with either hand and was a man's match in
wrestling bouts. One of his neighbors gave this view of him:

"Alvin wuz a quiet, straight-going boy. When he started to shoe a mule
he always did hit no matter how troublesome the mule. He wuz so quiet
about what he wuz doing that we never noticed much o' that side of his
character before he went away. But now we see hit."

In a season of prosperity William York moved from the cave and built a
blacksmith's shop beside the road where it forks, where one of the forks
turns down the middle of the spring-branch bed, on its way to the mill
and to Byrdstown.

And he and Mary remodeled their home, making a two-room cabin o