. Our hostess
met us at the gate and the look of her face when she bade us goodbye and
tucked some cookies into my pocket, has always lingered in my memory and
put in me a mighty respect for all women. The sound of her voice, the
tears, the waving of her handkerchief, as we went away, are among the
things that have made me what I am.

We stowed our packages in the wagon box and I walked a few miles and
then got into the empty basket. Fred tipped his load over once or twice,
but got a steady gait in the way of industry after a while and a more
cheerful look. We had our dinner by the roadside on the bank of a brook,
an hour or so after midday, and came to a little village about sundown.
As we were nearing it there was some excitement among the dogs and
one of them tackled Fred. He went into battle very promptly, the wagon
jumping and rattling until it turned bottom up. Re-enforced by Uncle
Eb's cane he soon saw the heels of his aggressor and stood growling
savagely. He was like the goal in a puzzle maze all wound and tangled
in his harness and it took some time to get his face before him and his
feet free.

At a small grocery where groups of men, just out of the fields, were
sitting, their arms bare to the elbows, we bought more bread and butter.
In paying for it Uncle Eb took a package out of his trouser pocket to
get his change. It was tied in a red handkerchief and I remember it
looked to be about the size of his fist. He was putting it back when it
fell from his hand, heavily, and I could hear the chink of coin as it
struck. One of the men, who sat near, picked it up and gave it back to
him. As I remember well, his kindness had an evil flavour, for he winked
at his companions, who nudged each other as they smiled knowingly. Uncle
Eb was a bit cross, when I climbed into the basket, and walked along in
silence so rapidly it worried the dog to keep pace. The leading rope was
tied to the stock of the rifle and Fred's walking gait was too slow for
the comfort of his neck.

'You shifless cuss! I'll put a kink in your neck fer you if ye don't
walk up,' said Uncle Eb, as he looked back at the dog, in a temper
wholly unworthy of him.

We had crossed a deep valley and were climbing a long hill in the dusky
twilight.

'Willie,' said Uncle Eb, 'your eyes are better'n mine--look back and see
if anyone's comin'.'

'Can't see anyone,' I answered.

'Look 'way back in the road as fur as ye can see.

I did so, but I could se