d pleased me deeply and I
recalled them often after that night. I immediately regretted them, for
I was hungry and wanted to get up and eat some supper but had to lie a
while longer now so they would not know that my ears had been open.
Nothing more was said and I lay and listened to the wind in the
tree-tops and the crackling of the fire, and suddenly the day ended.

I felt the gentle hand of Uncle Peabody on my face and I heard him speak
my name very tenderly. I opened my eyes. The sun was shining. It was a
new day. Bill Seaver had begun to cook the breakfast. I felt better and
ran down to the landing and washed. My uncle's face had a serious look
in it. So had Mr. Wright's. I was happy but dimly conscious of a change.

I remember how Bill beat the venison steak, which he had brought in his
pack basket, with the head of his ax, adding a strip of bacon and a
pinch of salt, now and then, until the whole was a thick mass of pulp
which he broiled over the hot coals. I remember, too, how delicious it
was.

We ate and packed and got into the boats and fished along down the
river. At Seaver's we hitched up our team and headed homeward. When we
drove into the dooryard Aunt Deel came and helped me out of the buggy
and kissed my cheek and said she had been "terrible lonesome." Mr.
Wright changed his clothes and hurried away across country with his
share of the fish on his way to Canton.

"Well, I want to know!--ayes! ain't they beautiful! ayes!" Aunt Deel
exclaimed as Uncle Peabody spread the trout in rows on the wash-stand by
the back door.

"I've got to tell you something," I said.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I heard him say naughty words."

"What words?"

"I--I can't say `em. They're wicked. I'm--I'm 'fraid he's goin' to be
burnt up," I stammered.

"It's so. I said 'em," my uncle confessed.

Aunt Deel turned to me and said: "Bart, you go right down to the barn
and bring me a strap--ayes!--you bring me a strap--right away."

I walked slowly toward the barn. For the moment, I was sorry that I had
told on my uncle. Scalding tears began to flow down my cheeks. I sat on
the steps to the hay loft for a moment to collect my thoughts.

Then I heard Aunt Deel call to me: "Hurry up, Bart."

I rose and picked out the smallest strap I could find and walked slowly
back to the house. I said, in a trembling voice, as I approached them,
"I--I don't think he meant it."

"He'll have to be punished--just the same--ayes--he w