ookin'--all I want t' do--in the middle of the night Sometimes I come
here an' spend a day in the garret if I'm caught in a storm or if I
happen to stay a little too late in the valley. Once in a great while
I meet a man somewhere in the open but he always gits away quick as he
can. Guess they think I'm a ghost--dunno what I think o' them.'

Our host went on talking as if he were glad to tell the secrets of his
heart to some creature of his own kind. I have often wondered at his
frankness; but there was a fatherly tenderness, I remember in the voice
of Uncle Eb, and I judge it tempted his confidence. Probably the love
of companionship can never be so dead in a man but that the voice of
kindness may call it back to life again.

'I'll bring you a bite t' eat before morning,' he said, presently, as he
rose to go, 'leet me feel o' your han', mister.'

Uncle Eb gave him his hand and thanked him.

'Feels good. First I've hed hold of in a long time,' he whispered.

'What's the day o' the month?'

'The twenty-fifth.'

'I must remember. Where did you come from?'

Uncle Eb told him, briefly, the story of our going west

'Guess you'd never do me no harm--would ye?' the man asked. 'Not a bit,'
Uncle Eb answered.

Then he bade us goodbye, crossed the creaking floor and went away in the
darkness.

'Sing'lar character!' Uncle Eb muttered.

I was getting drowsy and that was the last I heard. In the morning we
found a small pail of milk sitting near us, a roasted partridge, two
fried fish and some boiled potatoes. It was more than enough to carry
us through the day with a fair allowance for Fred. Uncle Eb was a bit
better but very lame at that and kept to his bed the greater part of the
day. The time went slow with me I remember. Uncle Eb was not cheerful
and told me but one story and that had no life in it. At dusk he let me
go out in the road to play awhile with Fred and the wagon, but came to
the door and called us in shortly. I went to bed in a rather unhappy
flame of mind. The dog roused me by barking in the middle of the right
and I heard again the familiar whisper of the stranger.

'Sh-h-h! be still, dog,' he whispered; but I was up to my ears in sleep
and went under shortly, so I have no knowledge of what passed that
night. Uncle Eb tells in his diary that he had a talk with him lasting
more than an hour, but goes no further and never seemed willing to talk
much about that interview or others that followed it.