but dimly conscious when he dropped
me under a tree whose bare twigs lashed the air and stung my cheeks. I
heard him tearing the branches savagely and muttering, 'Thanks to God,
it's the blue beech.' I shall never forget how he turned and held to my
hand and put the whip on me as I lay in the snow, and how the sting of
it started my blood. Up I sprang in a jiffy and howled and danced. The
stout rod bent and circled on me like a hoop of fire. Then I turned and
tried to run while he clung to my coat tails, and every step I felt the
stinging grab of the beech. There is a little seam across my cheek today
that marks a footfall of one of those whips. In a moment I was as wide
awake as Uncle Eb and needed no more stimulation.

The wall led us to the pasture lane, and there it was easy enough to
make our way to the barnyard and up to the door of the house, which had
a candle in every window, I remember. David was up and dressed to come
after us, and I recall how he took Uncle Eb in his arms, when he fell
fainting on the doorstep, and carried him to the lounge. I saw the blood
on my face as I passed the mirror, and Elizabeth Brower came running and
gave me one glance and rushed out of doors with the dipper. It was full
of snow when she ran in and tore the wrappings off my neck and began to
rub my ears and cheeks with the cold snow, calling loudly for Grandma
Bisnette. She came in a moment and helped at the stripping of our feet
and legs. I remember that she slit my trousers with the shears as I lay
on the floor, while the others rubbed my feet with the snow. Our hands
and ears were badly frosted, but in an hour the whiteness had gone out
of them and the returning blood burnt like a fire.

'How queer he stares!' I heard them say when Uncle Eb first came to, and
in a moment a roar of laughter broke from him.

'I'll never fergit,' said he presently, 'if I live a thousan' years, the
lickin' I gin thet boy; but it hurt me worse'n it hurt him.'

Then he told the story of the blue beech.

The next day was that 'cold Friday' long remembered by those who felt
its deadly chill--a day when water thrown in the magic air came down in
clinking crystals, and sheaths of frost lay thick upon the windows. But
that and the one before it were among the few days in that early period
that lie, like a rock, under my character.

Chapter 9

Grandma Bisnette came from Canada to work for the Browers. She was
a big, cheerful woman, with a diale