pirits and rubbing
until my small arms ached. I have heard him tell often how vigorously
I worked that day and how I would say: 'I'll take care o' you, Uncle
Eb--won't I, Uncle Eb?' as my little hands flew with redoubled energy on
his bare skin. That finished we lay down sleeping until the sun was low,
when I made ready the supper that took the last of everything we had to
eat. Uncle Eb was more like himself that evening and, sitting up in the
corner, as the darkness came, told me the story of Squirreltown and Frog
Ferry, which came to be so great a standby in those days that, even now,
I can recall much of the language in which he told it.

'Once,' he said, 'there was a boy thet hed two grey squirrels in a cage.
They kep' thinkin' o' the time they used t' scamper in the tree-tops an'
make nests an' eat all the nuts they wanted an' play I spy in the thick
leaves. An they grew poor an' looked kind o' ragged an' sickly an'
downhearted. When he brought 'em outdoors they used t' look up in the
trees an' run in the wire wheel as if they thought they could get there
sometime if they kep' goin'. As the boy grew older he see it was cruel
to keep 'em shet in a cage, but he'd hed em a long time an' couldn't
bear t' give 'em up.

'One day he was out in the woods a little back o' the clearin'. All t'
once he heard a swift holler. 'Twas nearby an' echoed so he couldn't
tell which way it come from. He run fer home but the critter ketched 'im
before he got out o' the woods an' took 'im into a cave, an' give 'im t'
the little swifts t' play with. The boy cried terrible. The swifts they
laughed an' nudged each other.

'"O ain't he cute!" says one. "He's a beauty!" says another. "Cur'us how
he can git along without any fur," says the mother swift, as she run er
nose over 'is bare foot. He thought of 'is folks waitin' fer him an' he
begged em t' let 'im go. Then they come an' smelt 'im over.

'"Yer sech a cunnin' critter," says the mother swift, "we couldn't spare
ye."

'"Want to see my mother," says the boy sobbing.

'"Couldn't afford t' let ye go--yer so cute," says the swift. "Bring the
poor critter a bone an' a bit o' snake meat."

'The boy couldn't eat. They fixed a bed fer him, but 'twant clean. The
feel uv it made his back ache an' the smell uv it made him sick to his
stomach.

'"When the swifts hed comp'ny they 'd bring 'em overt' look at him there
'n his dark corner." "S a boy," said the mother swift pokin' him with a
l