"It's a good deal for you two to do for that old woman," said Captain
Caseby, one day.

"But, didn't we promise to do it?" said Miss Kate, bravely. "We'd do
twice as much, if there were two of her."

It was very fortunate, however, that there were not two of her.

Sometimes they had extraordinary luck. Early one November morning Harry
was out in the woods and caught sight of a fat wild-turkey.

Bang!--one dollar.

That was enough to keep Aunt Matilda for a week.

At least it ought to have kept her. But there was something wrong
somewhere. Every week it cost more and more to keep the old colored
woman in what Harry called "eating material."

"Her appetite must be increasing," said Harry; "she's eaten two pecks of
meal this week."

"I don't believe it," said Kate; "she couldn't do it. I believe she has
company."

And this turned out to be true.

On inquiry they found that Uncle Braddock was in the habit of taking his
meals with Aunt Matilda, sometimes three times a day. Now, Uncle
Braddock had a home of his own, where he could get his meals if he chose
to go after them, and Harry remonstrated with him on his conduct.

"Why, ye see, Mah'sr Harry," said the old man, "she's so drefful
lonesome down dar all by sheself, and sometimes it's a-rainin' an' a
long way fur me to go home and git me wrapper all wet jist fur one
little meal o' wittles. And when I see what you all is a-doin' fur her,
I feels dat I oughter try and do somethin' fur her, too, as long as I
kin; an' I can't expect to go about much longer, Mah'sr Harry; de ole
wrapper's pretty nigh gin out."

"I don't mind your taking your meals there, now and then," said Harry;
"but I don't want you to live there. We can't afford it."

"All right, Mah'sr Harry," said Uncle Braddock, and after that he never
came to Aunt Matilda's to meals more than five or six times a week.

And now Christmas, always a great holiday with the negroes of the South,
was approaching, and Harry and Kate determined to try and give Aunt
Matilda extra good living during Christmas week, and to let her have
company every day if she wanted it.

Harry had a pig. He got it in the spring when it was very small, and
when its little tail was scarcely long enough to curl. There was a story
about his getting this pig.

He and some other boys had been out walking, and several dogs went along
with them. The dogs chased a cat--a beautiful, smooth cat, that
belonged to old Mr. Truly Matthews. The cat put off at the top of her
speed, which was a good deal better than any speed the dogs could show,
and darted up a tree right in front of her master's house. The dogs
surrounded the tree and barked as if they expected to bark the tree
down. One little fuzzy dog, with short legs and hair all over his eyes,
actually jumped into a low crotch, and the boys thought he was going to
try to climb the tree. If he had ever reached the cat he would have been
very sorry he had not stayed at home, for she was a good deal bigger
than he was. Harry and his friends endeavored to drive the dogs away
from the tree, but it was of no use. Even kicks and blows only made them
bark the more. Directly out rushed Mr. Truly Matthews, as angry as he
could be. He shouted and scolded at the boys for setting their dogs on
his cat, and then he kicked the dogs out of his yard in less time than
you could count seventy-two. He was very angry, indeed, and talked about
the shocking conduct of the boys to everybody in the village. He would
listen to no explanations or excuses.

Harry was extremely sorry that Mr. Matthews was so incensed against him,
especially as he knew there was no cause for it, and he was talking
about it to Kate one day, when she exclaimed:

"I'll tell you what will be sure to pacify Mr. Matthews, Harry. He has
a lot of little pigs that he wants to sell. Just you go and buy one of
them, and see if he isn't as good-natured as ever, when he sees your
money."

Harry took the advice. He had a couple of dollars, and with them he
bought a little pig, the smallest of the lot; and Mr. Matthews, who was
very much afraid he could not find purchasers for all his pigs, was as
completely pacified as Kate thought he would be.

Harry took his property home, and all through the summer and fall the
little pig ran about the yard and the fields and the woods, and ate
acorns--and sweet potatoes and turnips when he could get a chance to
root them up with his funny little twitchy nose--and grunted and slept
in the sun; and about the middle of December he had grown so big that
Harry sold him for eleven dollars. Here was quite a capital for
Christmas.

"I can't afford to spend it all on Aunt Matilda," said Harry to his
mother and Kate, "for I have other things to do with my money. But she's
bound to have a good Christmas, and we'll make her a present besides."

Kate was delighted with his idea, and immediately began to suggest all
sorts of things for the present. If Harry chose to buy anything that she
could "make up," she would go right to work at it. But Harry could not
think of anything that would suit exactly, and neither could Kate, nor
their mother; and when Mr. Loudon was taken into council, at
dinner-time, he could suggest nothing but an army blanket--which
suggestion met with no favor at all.

At last Mr. Loudon advised that they should ask Aunt Matilda what she
would like to have for a present.

"There's no better way of suiting her than that," said he.

So Harry and Kate went down to the old woman's cabin that afternoon,
after school, and asked her.

Aunt Matilda did not hesitate an instant.

"Ef you chil'en is really a-goin' to give me a present, there ain't
nothin' I'd rather have than a Chrismis tree."

"A Christmas tree!" cried Harry and Kate both bursting out laughing.

"Yes, indeed, chil'en. Ef ye give me anything, give me a good big fiery
Chrismis tree like you all had, year 'fore las'."

Two years before, Harry and Kate had had their last Christmas tree.
There were no younger children, and these two were now considered to
have outgrown that method of celebrating Christmas. But they had missed
their tree last year--missed it very much.

And now Aunt Matilda wanted one. It was the very thing!

"Hurrah!" cried Harry; "you shall have it. Hurrah for Aunt Matilda's
Christmas tree!"

"Hurrah!" cried Kate; "won't it be splendid? Hurrah!"

"Hurrah!" said Uncle Braddock, who was just coming up to the cabin door,
but he did not shout very loud, and nobody heard him.

"Hurrah! I wonder what dey's all hurrahin' about?" he said to himself.

Harry and Kate had started off to run home with the news, but Aunt
Matilda told the old man all about it, and when he heard there was to be
a Christmas tree, he was just as glad as anybody.

When it became generally known that Aunt Matilda was to have a Christmas
tree, the people of the neighborhood took a great interest in the
matter. John Walker and Dick Ford, two colored men of the vicinity,
volunteered to get the tree. But when they went out into the woods to
cut it, eighteen other colored people, big and little, followed them,
some to help and some to give advice.

A very fine tree was selected. It was a pine, ten feet high, and when
they brought it into Aunt Matilda's cabin, they could not stand it
upright, for her ceiling was rather low.

When Harry and Kate came home from school they were rather surprised to
see so big a tree, but it was such a fine one that they thought they
must have it. After some consideration it was determined to erect it in
a deserted cabin, near by, which had no upper floor, and was high enough
to allow the tree to stand up satisfactorily. This was, indeed, an
excellent arrangement, for it was better to keep the decoration of the
Christmas tree a secret from Aunt Matilda until all was completed.

The next day was a holiday, and Harry and Kate went earnestly to work. A
hole was dug in the clay floor of the old cabin, and the tree planted
firmly therein. It was very firm, indeed, for a little colored boy named
Josephine's Bobby climbed nearly to the topmost branch, without shaking
it very much. For four or five days the work of decorating the tree went
on. Everybody talked about it, a great many laughed at it, and nearly
everybody seemed inclined to give something to hang upon its branches.
Kate brought a large box containing the decorations of her last
Christmas tree, and she and Harry hung sparkling balls, and golden
stars, and silver fishes, and red and blue paper angels, and candy
swans, and sugar pears, and glittering things of all sorts, shapes, and
sizes upon the boughs. Harry had a step-ladder, and Dick Ford and five
colored boys held it firmly while he stood on it and tied on the
ornaments. Very soon the neighbors began to send in their contributions.
Mrs. Loudon gave a stout woollen dress, which was draped over a lower
branch; while Mr. Loudon, who was not to be diverted from his original
idea, sent an army blanket, which Kate arranged around the root of the
tree, so as to look as much as possible like gray moss. Mr. Darby, who
kept the store, sent a large paper bag of sugar and a small bag of tea,
which were carefully hung on lower branches. Miss Jane Davis thought she
ought to do something, and she contributed a peck of sweet potatoes,
which, each tied to a string, were soon dangling from the branches. Then
Mr. Truly Matthews, who did not wish to be behind his neighbors in
generosity, sent a shoulder of bacon, which looked quite magnificent as
it hung about the middle of the tree. Other people sent bars of soap,
bags of meal, packages of smoking-tobacco, and flannel petticoats. A
pair of shoes was contributed, and several pairs of stockings, which
latter were filled with apples and hickory-nuts by the considerate Kate.
Several of the school children gave sticks of candy; and old Mrs. Sarah
Page, who had nothing else to spare, brought a jug of molasses, which
was suspended near the top of the tree. Kate did not fancy the
appearance of the jug, and she wreathed it with strings of glittering
glass balls; and the shoulder of bacon she stuck full of red berries and
holly-leaves. Harry contributed a bright red handkerchief for Aunt
Matilda's head, and Kate gave a shawl which was yellower than a
sunflower, if such a thing could be. And Harry bore the general expenses
of the "extras," which were not trifling.

When Christmas eve arrived everybody came to see Aunt Matilda's
Christmas tree. Kate and Harry were inside superintending the final
arrangements, and about fifty or sixty persons, colored and white, were
gathered around the closed door of the old cabin. When all was ready
Aunt Matilda made her appearance, supported on either side by Dick Ford
and John Walker, while Uncle Braddock, in his many-colored
dressing-gown, followed close behind. Then the door was opened, and Aunt
Matilda entered, followed by as many of the crowd as could get in. It
was certainly a scene of splendor. A wood fire blazed in the fireplace
at one end of the cabin, while dozens of tallow candles lighted up the
tree. The gold and silver stars glistened, the many-colored glass balls
shone among the green pine boughs; the shoulder of bacon glowed like a
bed of flowers, while the jug of molasses hung calm and serene,
surrounded by its glittering beads. A universal buzz of approbation and
delight arose. No one had ever seen such a Christmas tree before. Every
bough and every branch bore something useful as well as ornamental.

As for Aunt Matilda, for several moments she remained speechless with
delight. At last she exclaimed:

"Laws-a-massey! It's wuth while being good for ninety-five years to git
such a tree at las'."




CHAPTER VIII.

A LIVELY TEAM.


"I want you to understand, Harry," said Mr. Loudon, one day, "that I do
not disapprove of what you and Kate are doing for old Aunt Matilda. On
the contrary, I feel proud of you both. The idea was honorable to you,
and, so far, you have done very well; better than I expected; and I
believe I was a little more sanguine than any one else in the village.
But you must not forget that you have something else to think of besides
making money for Aunt Matilda."

"But, don't I think of other things, father?" said Harry. "I'm sure I
get along well enough at school."

"That may be, my boy; but I want you to get along better than well
enough."

This little conversation made quite an impression on Harry, and he
talked to Kate about it.

"I suppose father's right," said she; "but what's to be done about it?
Is that poor old woman to have only half enough to eat, so that you may
read twice as much Virgil?"

Harry laughed.

"But perhaps she will have five-eighths of enough to eat if I only read
nine-sixteenths as much Latin," said he.

"Oh! you're always poking arithmetic fun at me," said Kate. "But I tell
you what you can do," she continued. "You can get up half an hour
earlier, every morning, and that will give you a good deal of extra time
to think about your lessons."

"I can _think_ about them in bed," said Harry.

"Humph!" said Kate; and she went on with her work. She was knitting a
"tidy," worth two pounds of sugar, or half a pound of tea, when it
should be finished.

Harry did not get up any earlier; for, as he expressed it, "It was
dreadfully cold before breakfast," on those January mornings; but his
father and mother noticed that the subject of Aunt Matilda's maintenance
did not so entirely engross the conversation of the brother and sister
in the evenings; and they had their heads together almost as often over
slate and schoolbooks as over the little account-book in which Kate put
down receipts and expenditures.

On a Thursday night, about the middle of January, there was a fall of
snow. Not a very heavy fall; the snow might have been deeper, but it was
deep enough for sledding. On the Friday, Harry, in connection with
another boy, Tom Selden, several years older than himself, concocted a
grand scheme. They would haul wood, on a sled, all day Saturday.

It was not to be any trifling little "boy-play" wood-hauling. Harry's
father owned a woodsled--one of the very few sleds or sleighs in the
county--which was quite an imposing affair, as to size, at least. It
was about eight feet long and four feet wide; and although it was rough
enough,--being made of heavy boards, nailed transversely upon a couple
of solid runners, with upright poles to keep the load in its place--it
was a very good sled, as far as it went, which had not been very far of
late; for there had been no good sledding for several seasons. Old Mr.
Truly Matthews had a large pile of wood cut in a forest about a mile and
a half from the village, and the boys knew that he wanted it hauled to
the house, and that, by a good day's work, considerable money could be
made.

All the arrangements were concluded on Friday, which was a half-holiday,
on account of the snow making travelling unpleasant for those scholars
who lived at a distance. Harry's father gave his consent to the plan,
and loaned his sled. Three negro men agreed to help for one-fourth of
the profits. Tom Selden went into the affair, heart and hand, agreeing
to take his share out in fun. What money was made, after paying
expenses, was to go into the Aunt Matilda Fund, which was tolerably low
about that time.

Kate gave her earnest sanction to the scheme, which was quite
disinterested on her part, for, being a girl, she could not very well go
on a wood-hauling expedition, and she could expect to do little else but
stay at home and calculate the probable profits of the trips.

The only difficulty was to procure a team; and nothing less than a
four-horse team would satisfy the boys.

Mr. Loudon lent one horse, old Selim, a big brown fellow, who was very
good at pulling when he felt in the humor. Tom could bring no horse; for
his father did not care to lend his horses for such a purpose. He was
afraid they might get their legs broken; and, strange as it seemed to
the boys, most of the neighbors appeared to have similar notions. Horses
were very hard to borrow that Friday afternoon. But a negro man, named
Isaac Waddell, agreed to hire them his horse Hector, for fifty cents for
the day; and the storekeeper, after much persuasion, lent a big gray
mule, Grits by name. There was another mule in the village, which the
boys could have if they wanted her; but they did not want her--that is,
if they could get anything else with four legs that would do to go in
their team. This was Polly, a little mule, belonging to Mrs. Dabney, who
kept the post-office. Polly was not only very little in size, but she
was also very little given to going. She did not particularly object to
a walk, if it were not too long, and would pull a buggy or carry a man
with great complacency, but she seldom indulged in trotting. It was of
no use to whip her. Her skin was so thick, or so destitute of feeling,
that she did not seem to take any notice of a good hard crack. Polly was
not a favorite, but she doubtless had her merits, although no one knew
exactly what they were. Perhaps the best thing that could be said about
her was, that she did not take up much room.

But, on Saturday, it was evident that Polly would have to be taken, for
no animal could be obtained in her place.

So, soon after breakfast, the team was collected in Mr. Loudon's
back-yard, and harnessed to the sled. Besides the three negroes who had
been hired, there were seven volunteers--some big and some little--who
were very willing to work for nothing, if they might have a ride on the
sled. The harness was not the best in the world; some of it was leather,
and some was rope and some was chain. It was gathered together from
various quarters, like the team--nobody seemed anxious to lend good
harness.

Grits and thin Hector were the leaders, and Polly and old Selim were the
pole-horses, so to speak.

When all the straps were buckled, and the chains hooked, and the knots
tied (and this took a good while as there were only twelve men and boys
to do it), Dick Ford jumped on old Selim, little Johnny Sand, as black
as ink, was hoisted on Grits, and Gregory Montague, a tall yellow boy,
with high boots and no toes to them, bestrode thin Hector. Harry, Tom,
and nine negroes (two more had just come into the yard) jumped on the
sled. Dick Ford cracked his whip; Kate stood on the back-door step and
clapped her hands; all the darkies shouted; Tom and Harry hurrahed; and
away they did not go.

Polly was not ready.

And what was more, old brown Selim was perfectly willing to wait for
her. He looked around mildly at the little mule, as if he would say:
"Now, don't be in a hurry, my good Polly. Be sure you're right before
you go ahead."

Polly was quite sure she was not right, and stood as stiffly as if she
had been frozen to the ground, and all the cracking of whips and
shouting of "Git up!" "Go 'long!" "What do you mean, dar? you Polly!"
made no impression on her.

Then Harry made his voice heard above the hubbub.

"Never mind Polly!" he shouted. "Let her alone. Dick, and you other
fellows, just start off your own horses. Now, then! Get up, all of you!"

At this, every rider whipped up his horse or his mule, and spurred him
with his heels, and every darkey shouted, "Hi, dar!" and off they went,
rattledy-bang!

Polly went, too. There was never such an astonished little mule in this
world! Out of the gate they all whirled at full gallop, and up the road,
tearing along. Negroes shouting, chains rattling, snow flying back from
sixteen pounding hoofs, sled cutting through the snow like a ship at
sea, and a little darkey shooting out behind at every bounce over a
rough place!

"Hurrah!" cried Harry, holding tight to an upright pole. "Isn't this
splendid!"

"Splendid! It's glorious!" shouted Tom. "It's better than being a pi--"
And down he went on his knees, as the big sled banged over a stone in
the road, and Josephine's Bobby was bounced out into a snow-drift under
a fence.

Whether Tom intended to say a pirate or a pyrotechnic, was never
discovered; but, in six minutes, there was only one of the small darkies
left on the sled. The men, and this one, John William Webster, hung on
to the poles as if they were glued there.

As for Polly, she was carried along faster than she ever went before in
her life. She jumped, she skipped, she galloped, she slid, she skated;
sometimes sitting down, and sometimes on her feet, but flying along, all
the same, no matter how she chose to go.

And so, rattling, shouting, banging, bouncing; snow flying and whips
cracking, on they sped, until John William Webster's pole came out, and
clip! he went heels over head into the snow.

But John William had a soul above tumbles. In an instant he jerked
himself up to his feet, dropped the pole, and dashed after the sled.

Swiftly onward went the sled and right behind came John William, his
legs working like steamboat wheels, his white teeth shining, and his big
eyes sparkling!

There was no stopping the sled; but there was no stopping John William,
either, and in less than two minutes he reached the sled, grabbed a man
by the leg, and tugged and pulled until he seated himself on the end
board.

"I tole yer so!" said he, when he got his breath. And yet he hadn't told
anybody anything.

And now the woods were reached, and after a deal of pulling and
shouting, the team was brought to a halt, and then slowly led through a
short road to where the wood was piled.

The big mule and the horses steamed and puffed a little, but Polly stood
as calm as a rocking-horse.

Notwithstanding the rapidity of the drive, it was late when the party
reached the woods. The gathering together and harnessing of the team had
taken much longer than they expected; and so the boys set to work with a
will to load the sled; for they wanted to make two trips that morning.
But although they all, black and white, worked hard, it was slow
business. Some of the wood was cut and split properly, and some was not,
and then the sled had to be turned around, and there was but little room
to do it in, and so a good deal of time was lost.

But at last the sled was loaded up, and they were nearly ready to start,
when John William Webster, who had run out to the main road, set up a
shout:

"Oh! Mah'sr Harry! Mah'sr Tom!"

Harry and Tom ran out to the road, and stood there petrified with
astonishment.

Where was the snow?

It was all gone, excepting a little here and there in the shade of the
fence corners. The day had turned out to be quite mild, and the sun,
which was now nearly at its noon height, had melted it all away.

Here was a most unlooked-for state of affairs! What was to be done? The
boys ran back to the sled, and the colored men ran out to the road, and
everybody talked and nobody seemed to say anything of use.

At last Dick Ford spoke up:

"I tell ye what, Mah'sr Harry! I say, just let's go 'long," said he.

"But how are you going to do it?" said Harry. "There's no snow."

"I know that; but de mud's jist as slippery as grease. That thar team
kin pull it, easy 'nuff!"

Harry and Tom consulted together, and agreed to drive out to the road
and try what could be done, and then, if the loaded sled was too much
for the team, they would throw off the wood and go home with the empty
sled.

There was snow enough until they reached the road--for very little had
melted in the woods--and when they got fairly out on the main road the
team did not seem to mind the change from snow to thin mud.

The load was not a very heavy one, and there were two horses and two
mules--a pretty strong team.

Polly did very well. She was now harnessed with Grits in the lead; and
she pulled along bravely. But it was slow work, compared to the lively
ride over the snow. The boys and the men trudged through the mud, by the
side of the sled, and, looking at it in the best possible light, it was
a very dull way to haul wood. The boys agreed that after this trip they
would be very careful not to go on another mud-sledding expedition.

But soon they came to a long hill, and, going down this, the team began
to trot, and Harry and Tom and one or two of the men jumped on the edges
of the sled, outside of the load, holding on to the poles. Then Grits,
the big mule, began to run, and Gregory couldn't hold him in, and old
Selim and thin Hector and little Polly all struck out on a gallop, and
away they went, bumping and thumping down the hill.

And then stick after stick, two sticks, six sticks, a dozen sticks at a
time, slipped out behind.

It was of no use to catch at them to hold them on. They were not
fastened down in any way, and Harry and Tom and the men on the sled had
as much as they could do to hold themselves on.

When they reached the bottom of the hill the pulling became harder; but
Grits had no idea of stopping for that. He was bound for home. And so he
plunged on at the top of his speed. But the rest of the team did not
fancy going so fast on level ground, and they slackened their pace.

This did not suit Grits. He gave one tremendous bound, burst loose from
his harness and dashed ahead. Up went his hind legs in the air; off shot
Gregory Montague into the mud, and then away went Grits, clipperty-clap!
home to his stable.

When Harry and Tom, the two horses, the little mule, the eight colored
men, the sled, John William Webster and eleven logs of wood reached the
village it was considerably after dinner-time.

When the horse-hire was paid, and something was expended for mending
borrowed harness, and the negroes had received a little present for
their labor, the Aunt Matilda Fund was diminished by the sum of three
dollars and eighty cents.

Mr. Truly Matthews agreed to say nothing about the loss of his wood that
was scattered along the road.




CHAPTER IX.

BUSINESS IN EARNEST.


Although Harry did not find his wood-hauling speculation very
profitable, it was really of advantage to him, for it gave him an idea.

And his idea was a very good one. He saw clearly enough that money could
be made by hauling wood, and he was also quite certain that it would
never do for him to take his time, especially during school term, for
that purpose. So, after consultation with his father, and after a great
deal of figuring by Kate, he determined to go into the business in a
regular way.

About five miles from the village was a railroad station, and it was
also a wood station. Here the railroad company paid two dollars a cord
for wood delivered on their grounds.

Two miles from the station, on the other side of Crooked Creek, Harry's
father owned a large tract of forest land, and here Harry received
permission to cut and take away all the wood that he wanted. Mr. Loudon
was perfectly willing, in this way, to help his children in their good
work.

So Harry made arrangements with Dick Ford and John Walker, who were not
regularly hired to any one that winter, to cut and haul his wood for
him, on shares. John Walker had a wagon, which was merely a set of
wheels, with a board floor laid on the axletrees, and the use of this he
contributed in consideration of a little larger share in the profits.
Harry hired Grits and another mule at a low rate, as there was not much
for mules to do at that time of the year.

The men were to cut up and deliver the wood and get receipts for it from
the station-master; and it was to be Harry's business to collect the
money at stated times, and divide the proceeds according to the rate
agreed upon. Harry and his father made the necessary arrangements with
the station-master, and thus all the preliminaries were settled quite
satisfactorily.

In a few days the negroes were at work, and as they both lived but a
short distance from the creek, on the village side, it was quite
convenient for them. John Walker had a stable in which to keep the
mules, and the cost of their feed was also to be added to his share of
the profits.

In a short time Harry had quite a number of applications from negroes
who wished to cut wood for him, but he declined to hire any additional
force until he saw how his speculation would turn out.

Old Uncle Braddock pleaded hard to be employed. He could not cut wood,
nor could he drive a team, but he was sure he would be of great use as
overseer.

"You see, Mah'sr Harry," he said, "I lib right on de outside edge ob
you' pa's woods, and I kin go ober dar jist as easy as nuffin, early
every mornin', and see dat dem boys does dere work, and don't chop down
de wrong trees. Mind now, I tell ye, you all will make a pile o' money
ef ye jist hire me to obersee dem boys."

For some time Harry resisted his entreaties, but at last, principally on
account of Kate's argument that the old man ought to be encouraged in
making something toward his living, if he were able and willing to do
so, Harry hired him on his own terms, which were ten cents a day.

About four o'clock every afternoon during his engagement, Uncle Braddock
made his appearance in the village, to demand his ten cents. When Harry
remonstrated with him on his quitting work so early, he said:

"Why, you see, Mah'sr Harry, it's a long way from dem woods here, and I
got to go all de way back home agin; and it gits dark mighty early dese
short days."

In about a week the old man came to Hurry and declared that he must
throw up his engagement.

"What's the matter?" asked Harry.

"I'm gwine to gib up dat job, Mah'sr Harry."

"But why? You wanted it bad enough," said Harry.

"But I'm gwine to gib it up now," said the old man.

"Well, I want you to tell me your reasons for giving it up," persisted
Harry.

Uncle Braddock stood silent for a few minutes, and then he said:

"Well, Mah'sr Harry, dis is jist de truf; dem ar boys, dey ses to me dat
ef I come foolin' around dere any more, dey'd jist chop me up, ole
wrapper an' all, and haul me off fur kindlin' wood. Dey say I was dry
enough. An' dey needn't a made sich a fuss about it, fur I didn't
trouble 'em much; hardly eber went nigh 'em. Ten cents' worf o'
oberseein' aint a-gwine to hurt nobody."

"Well, Uncle Braddock," said Harry, laughing, "I think you're wise to
give it up."

"Dat's so," said the old negro, and away he trudged to Aunt Matilda's
cabin, where, no doubt, he ate a very good ten cents' worth of corn-meal
and bacon.

This wood enterprise of Harry's worked pretty well on the whole.
Sometimes the men cut and hauled quite steadily, and sometimes they did
not. Once every two weeks Harry rode over to the station, and collected
what was due him; and his share of the profits kept Aunt Matilda quite
comfortably.

But, although Kate was debarred from any share in this business, she
worked every day at her tidies for the store, and knit stockings,
besides, for some of the neighbors, who furnished the yarn and paid her
a fair price. There were people who thought Mrs. Loudon did wrong in
allowing her daughter to work for money in this way, but Kate's mother
said that the end justified the work, and that so long as Kate
persevered in her self-appointed tasks, she should not interfere.

As for Kate, she said she should work on, no matter how much money Harry
made. There was no knowing what might happen.

But the most important of Kate's duties was the personal attention she
paid to Aunt Matilda. She went over to the old woman's cabin every day
or two, and saw that she was kept warm and had what she needed.

And these visits had a good influence on the old woman, for her cabin
soon began to look much neater, now that a nice little girl came to see
her so often.

When the spring came on, Aunt Matilda actually took it into her head to
whitewash her cabin, a thing she had not done for years. She and Uncle
Braddock worked at it by turns. The old woman was too stiff and
rheumatic to keep at such work long at a time; but she was very proud of
her whitewashing; and when she was tired of working at the inside of her
cabin, she used to go out and whitewash the trunks of the trees around
the house. She had seen trees thus ornamented, and she thought they were
perfectly beautiful.

Kate was violently opposed to anything of this kind, and, at last, told
Aunt Matilda that if she persisted in surrounding her house with what
looked like a forest of tombstones, she, Kate, would have to stop coming
there.

So Aunt Matilda, in a manner, desisted.

But one day she noticed a little birch-tree, some distance from the
house, and the inclination to whitewash that little birch was too strong
to be resisted.

"He's so near white, anyway," she said to herself, "dat it's a pity not
to finish him."

So off she hobbled with a tin cup full of whitewash and a small brush to
adorn the little birch-tree, leaving her cabin in the charge of Holly
Thomas.

Holly, whose whole name was Hollywood Cemetery Thomas, was a little
black girl, between two and five years old. Sometimes she seemed nearly
five, and sometimes not more than two. Her parents intended christening
her Minerva, but hearing the name of the well-known Hollywood Cemetery
in Richmond, they thought it so pretty that they gave it to their little
daughter, without the slightest idea, however, that it was the name of a
grave-yard.

Holly had come over to pay a morning visit to Aunt Matilda, and she had
brought her only child, a wooden doll, which she was trying to teach to
walk, by dragging it head foremost by a long string tied around its
neck.

"Now den, you Holly, you stay h'yar and mind de house while I's gone,"
said Aunt Matilda, as she departed.

"All yite," said the little darkey, and she sat down on the floor to
prepare her child for a coat of whitewash; but she had not yet succeeded
in convincing the doll of the importance of the operation when her
attention was aroused by a dog just outside of the door.

It was Kate's little woolly white dog, Blinks, who often used to come to
the cabin with her, and who sometimes, when he got a chance to run away,
used to come alone, as he did this morning.

"Go 'way dar, litty dog," said Miss Holly, "yer can't come in; dere's
nobody home. Yun 'long, now, d'yer y'ear!"

But Blinks either did not hear or did not care, for he stuck his head in
at the door.

"Go 'way, dere!" shouted Holly. "Aunt Tillum ain't home. Go 'way now,
and tum bat in half an hour. Aunt Tillum'll be bat den. Don't yer hear
now, go _'way_!"

But, instead of going away, Blinks trotted in, as bold as a four-pound
lion.

"Go 'way, go 'way!" screamed Holly, squeezing herself up against the
wall in her terror, and then Blinks barked at her. He had never seen a
little black girl behave so, in the whole course of his life, and it was
quite right in him to bark and let her know what he thought of her
conduct. Then Holly, in her fright, dropped her doll, and when Blinks
approached to examine it, she screamed louder and louder, and Blinks
barked more and more, and there was quite a hubbub. In the midst of it a
man put his head in at the door of the cabin.

He was a tall man, with red hair, and a red freckled face, and a red
bristling moustache, and big red hands.

"What's all this noise about?" said he; and when he saw what it was, he
came in.

"Get out of this, you little beast!" said he to Blinks, and putting the
toe of his boot under the little dog, he kicked him clear out of the
door of the cabin. Then turning to Holly, he looked at her pretty much
as if he intended to kick her out too. But he didn't. He put out one of
his big red hands and said to her:

"Shake hands."

Holly obeyed without a word, and then snatching her wooden child from
the floor, she darted out of the door and reached the village almost as
soon as poor Blinks.

In a minute or two Aunt Matilda made her appearance at the door. She had
heard the barking and the screaming, and had come to see what was the
matter.

When she saw the man, she exclaimed:

"Why, Mah'sr George! Is dat you?"

"Yes, it's me," said the man. "Shake hands, Aunt Matilda."

"I thought you was down in Mississippi; Mah'sr George," said the old
woman; "and I thought you was gwine to stay dar."

"Couldn't do it," said the man. "It didn't suit me, down there. Five
years of it was enough for me."

"Enough fur dem, too, p'r'aps!" said Aunt Matilda, with a grim chuckle.

The man took no notice of her remark, but said:

"I didn't intend to stop here, but I heard such a barking and screaming
in your cabin, that I turned out of my way to see what the row was
about. I've just come up from the railroad. Does old Michaels keep store
here yet?"

"No, he don't," said Aunt Matilda; "he's dead. Mah'sr Darby keeps dar
now."

"Is that so?" cried the man. "Why, it was on old Michaels's account that
I was sneakin' around the village. Why, I'm mighty glad I stopped here.
It makes things different if old Michaels isn't about."

"Well, ye might as well go 'long," said Aunt Matilda, who seemed to be
getting into a bad humor. "There's others who knows jist as much about
yer bad doin's as Mah'sr Michaels did."

"I suppose you mean that meddling humbug, John Loudon," said the man.

"Now, look h'yar, you George Mason?" cried Aunt Matilda, making one long
step toward the whitewash bucket; "jist you git out o' dat dar door!"
and she seized the whitewash brush and gave it a terrific swash in the
bucket.

The man looked at her--he knew her of old--and then he left the cabin
almost as quickly as Blinks and Holly went out of it.

"Ef it hadn't been fur dat little dog," said Aunt Matilda, grimly, "he'd
a gone on. Them little dogs is always a-doin' mischief."




CHAPTER X.

A MEETING ON THE ROAD.


Some weeks before the little affair between Blinks and Holly, related in
our last chapter, Harry and Kate took a ride over to the railroad
station.

During the winter Harry had frequently gone over on horseback to attend
to the payments for his wood; and now that the roads were in fit
condition for carriage travel, he was glad to have an opportunity to
take the buggy and give Kate a ride.

For some days previously, Crooked Creek had been "up;" that is, the
spring rains had caused it to overflow, and all travel across it had
been suspended. The bridges on such occasions--and Crooked Creek had a
bad habit of being "up" several times in the course of a year--were
covered, and the lowlands were under water for a considerable distance
on each side of the stream. There were so few boats on the creek, and
the current, in time of freshets, was so strong, that ferriage was
seldom thought of. In consequence of this state of affairs Harry had not
heard from his wood-cutters for more than a week, as they had not been
able to cross the creek to their homes. It was, therefore, as much to
see how they were getting along as to attend to financial matters that
he took this trip.

It was a fine, bright day in very early spring, and old Selim trotted on
quite gayly. Before very long they overtook Miles Jackson, jogging along
on a little bay horse.

Miles was a black man, very sober and sedate who for years had carried
the mail twice a week from a station farther up the railroad to the
village. But he was not a mail-carrier now. His employer, a white man,
who had the contract for carrying the mails, had also gone into another
business which involved letter-carrying.

A few miles back from the village of Akeville, where the Loudons lived,
was a mica mine, which had recently been bought, and was now worked by a
company from the North. This mica (the semi-transparent substance that
is set into stove doors) proved to be very plentiful and valuable, and
the company had a great deal of business on their hands. It was
frequently necessary to send messages and letters to the North, and
these were always carried over to the station on the other side of
Crooked Creek, where there was a daily mail and a telegraph office. The
contract to carry these letters and messages to and from the mines had
been given to Miles's employer, and the steady negro man had been taken
off the mail-route to attend to this new business.

"Well, Miles," said Harry, as he overtook him. "How do you like riding
on this road?"

"How d' y', Mah'sr Harry? How d' y', Miss Kate?" said the colored man,
touching his hat and riding up on the side of the road to let them pass.
"I do' know how I likes it yit, Mah'sr Harry. Don't seem 'xactly nat'ral
after ridin' de oder road so long!"

"You have a pretty big letter-bag there," said Harry.

"Dat's so," said Miles; "but 'taint dis big ebery day. Sence de creek's
been up I haint been able to git across, and dere's piles o' letters to
go ober to-day."

"It must make it rather bad for the company when the creek rises in this
way," said Harry.

"Dat's so," answered Miles. "Dey gits in a heap o' trubble when dey
can't send dere letters and git 'em. Though 'taint so many letters dey
sends as telegraphs."

"It's a pity they couldn't have had their mine on the other side,"
remarked Kate.

"Dat's so, Miss Kate," said Miles, gravely. "I reckon dey didn't know
about de creek's gittin' up so often, or dey'd dug dere mine on de oder
side."

Harry and Kate laughed and drove on.

They soon reached Mr. Loudon's woods, but found no wood-cutters.

When they arrived at the station they saw Dick Ford and John Walker on
the store-porch.

Harry soon discovered that no wood had been cut for several days,
because the creek was up.

"What had that to do with it?" asked Harry.

"Why, you see, Mah'sr Harry," said John Walker, "de creek was mighty
high, and dere was no knowin' how things ud turn out. So we thought we'd
jist wait and see."

"So you've been here all the time?"

"Yes, sir; been h'yar all de time. Couldn't go home, you know."

Harry was very sorry to hear of this lost time, for he knew that his
wood-cutting would come to an end as soon as the season was sufficiently
advanced to give the men an opportunity of hiring themselves for
farm-work; but it was of no use to talk any more about it; and so, after
depositing Kate at the post-office, where the post-mistress, who knew
her well, gave her a nice little "snack" of buttermilk, cold fried
chicken, and "light-bread," he went to the station and transacted his
business. He had not been there for some weeks, and he found quite a
satisfactory sum of money due him, in spite of the holiday his men had
taken. He then arranged with Dick and John to work on for a week or two
longer--if "nothing happened;" and after attending to some commissions
for the family, he and Kate set out for home.

But nothing they had done that day was of so much importance as their
meeting with Miles tuned out to be.




CHAPTER XI.

ROB.


Blinks was not the only dog on the Loudon place. There was another one,
a much larger fellow, named Rob.

Rob was a big puppy, in the first place, and then he grew up to be a
tall, long-legged dog, who was not only very fond of Harry and Kate, but
of almost everybody else. In time he filled out and became rather more
shapely, but he was always an ungainly dog--"too big for his size," as
Harry put it.

It was supposed that Rob was partly bloodhound, but how much of him was
bloodhound it would have been very difficult so say. Kate thought it was
only his ears. They resembled the ears of a picture of a beautiful
African bloodhound that she had in a book. At all events Rob showed no
signs of any fighting ancestry. He was as gentle as a calf. Even Blinks
was a better watch-dog. But then, Rob was only a year old, and he might
improve in time.

But, in spite of his general inutility, Rob was a capital companion on a
country ramble.

And so it happened, one bright day toward the close of April, that he
and Harry and Kate went out together into the woods, beyond Aunt
Matilda's cabin. Kate's objects in taking the walk were wild flowers and
general spring investigations into the condition of the woods; but Harry
had an eye to business, although to hear him talk you would have
supposed that he thought as much about ferns and flowers as Kate did.

Harry had an idea that it might possibly be a good thing to hire negroes
that year to pick sumac for him. He was not certain that he could make
it pay, but it was on his mind to such a degree that he took a great
interest in the sumac-bushes, and hunted about the edges of the woods,
where the bushes were generally found, to see what was the prospect for
a large crop of leaves that year.

They were in the woods, about a mile from Aunt Matilda's cabin, and not
very far from a road, when they separated for a short time. Harry went
on ahead, continuing his investigations, while Kate remained in a little
open glade, where she found some flowers that she determined to dig up
by the roots and transplant into her garden at home.

While she was at work she heard a heavy step behind her, and looking up,
she saw a tall man standing by her. He had red hair, a red face, a red
bristling moustache, and big red hands.

"How d'ye do?" said the man.

Kate stood up, with the plants, which she had just succeeded in getting
out of the ground, in her apron.

"Good morning, sir," said she.

The man looked at her from head to foot, and then he said, "Shake
hands!" holding out his big red hand.

But Kate did not offer to take it.

"Didn't you hear me?" said he. "I said, 'Shake hands.'"

"I heard you," said Kate.

"Well, why don't you do it, then?"

Kate did not answer, and the man repeated his question.

"Well, then, if I must tell you," said she; "in the first place, I don't
know you; and, then, I'd rather not shake hands with you, anyway,
because your hands are so dirty."

This might not have been very polite in Kate, but she was a
straightforward girl, and the man's hands were very dirty indeed,
although water was to be had in such abundance.

"What's your name?" said the man, with his face considerably redder than
before.

"Kate Loudon," said the girl.

"Oh, ho! Loudon, is it? Well, Kate Loudon, if my hand's too dirty to
shake, you'll find it isn't too dirty to box your ears."

Kate turned pale and shrank back against a tree. She gave a hurried
glance into the woods, and then she called out, as loudly as she could:
"_Harry_!"

The man, who had made a step toward her, now stopped and looked around,
as if he would like to know who Harry was, before going any further.

Just then, Harry, who had heard Kate's call, came running up.

When the man saw him he seemed relieved, and a curious smile stretched
itself beneath his bristling red moustache.

"What's the matter?" cried Harry.

"Oh, Harry!" Kate exclaimed, as she ran to him.

"Matter?" said the man. "The matter's this: I'm going to box her ears."

"Whose ears?"

"That girl's," replied the red-faced man, moving toward Kate.

"My sister! Not much!"

And Harry stepped between Kate and the man.

The man stood and looked at him, and he looked very angrily, too.

But Harry stood bravely before his sister. His face was flushed and his
breath came quickly, though he was not frightened, not a whit!

And yet there was absolutely nothing that he could do. He had not his
gun with him; he had not even a stick in his hand, and a stick would
have been of little use against such a strong man as that, who could
have taken Harry in his big red hands and have thrown him over the
highest fence in the county.

But for all that, the boy stood boldly up before his sister.

The man looked at him without a word, and then he stepped aside toward a
small dogwood-bush.

For an instant, Harry thought that they might run away; but it was only
for an instant. That long-legged man could catch them before they had
gone a dozen yards--at least he could catch Kate.

The man took out a knife and cut a long and tolerably thick switch from
the bush. Then he cut off the smaller end and began to trim away the
twigs and leaves.

While doing this he looked at Harry, and said:

"I think I'll take you first."

Kate's heart almost stopped beating when she heard this, and Harry
turned pale; but still the brave boy stood before his sister as stoutly
as ever.

Kate tried to call for help, but she had no voice. What could _she_ do?
A boxing on the ears was nothing, she now thought; she wished she had
not called out, for it was evident that Harry was going to get a
terrible whipping.

She could not bear it! Her dear brother!

She trembled so much that she could not stand, and she sank down on her
knees. Rob, the dog, who had been lying near by, snapping at flies, all
this time, now came up to comfort her.

"Oh, Rob!" she whispered, "I wish you were a cross dog."

And Rob wagged his tail and lay down by her.

"I wonder," she thought to herself, "oh! I wonder if any one could make
him bite."

"Rob!" she whispered in the dog's ear, keeping her eyes fixed on the
man, who had now nearly finished trimming his stick. "Rob! hiss-s-s-s!"
and she patted his back.

Rob seemed to listen very attentively.

"Hiss-s-s!" she whispered again, her heart beating quick and hard.

Rob now raised his head, his big body began to quiver, and the hair on
his back gradually rose on end.

"Hiss! Rob! Rob!" whispered Kate.

The man had shut up his knife, and was putting it in his pocket. He took
the stick in his right hand.

All now depended on Rob.

"Oh! will he?" thought Kate, and then she sprang to her feet and clapped
her hands.

"Catch him, Rob!" she screamed. "Catch him!"

With a rush, Rob hurled himself full at the breast of the man, and the
tall fellow went over backward, just like a ten-pin.

Then he was up and out into the road, Rob after him!

You ought to have seen the gravel fly!

Harry and Kate ran out into the road and cheered and shouted. Away went
the man, and away went the dog.

Up the road, into the brush, out again, and then into a field, down a
hill, nip and tuck! At Tom Riley's fence, Rob got him by the leg, but
the trowsers were old and the piece came out: and then the man dashed
into Riley's old tobacco barn, and slammed the door almost on the dog's
nose.

Rob ran around the house to see if there was an open window, and finding
none, he went back to the door and lay down to wait.

Harry and Kate ran home as fast as they could, and after a while Rob
came too. He had waited a reasonable time at the door of the barn, but
the man had not come out.