The Consultation of War 299 



good nights, old Simpson the earth-stopper, last but not 

 least, is saddling his pony, and before they are asleep is 

 grumbling to himself along the highway, his lantern on his 

 arm and shovel strapped to his back, while his faithful lit- 

 tle terrier Skip trots along behind him for company. " Why 

 do they want to draw the Benson Wood and then go 'way 

 off to the ridge road?" he grumbles. "Just to make me 

 as much work as they possibly can, I suppose. And after 

 it is all done they may never go nigh the ridge. Fox- 

 hunting ain't what it used to be when I was a boy." 



So he goes along, scolding to himself. Sometimes he 

 tells his troubles to the pony and Skip, who, though they 

 may both sympathise with him, are powerless to change 

 the general's commands. " I have a mind not to go a 

 step," he says to the pony. 



Yet if you should meet him two hours later, going along 

 some dreary bye-road in the dark windy night, and say, 

 " Hello, Simpson ; is n't this rather rough on a man of your 

 age ? " he would not agree at all. 



" Oh, nonsense ! " he would retort. " I could give any of 

 the boys a hard day yet if they tried to follow me"; and then 

 he begins to tell some appallingly long story about his 

 prowess at the battle of Gettysburg. Or if you should say, 

 meeting him some cold, rainy night crossing your farm on 

 his white pony like a ghost, "Well, uncle, have n't they 

 some younger man to do this work ? " 



" Not a man on the place knows enough to do my 

 work," would be the quick reply. 



To hear him grumble and growl before he gets under 

 way, you might suppose him the most abused man on the 



