Robin Hood's Barn 



my father come upon a thistle. It was not all 

 fun and still less mockery that brought him 

 quickly to attention, his stave held erect in a 

 salute. The fighter in him that so firmly under- 

 lay his mildness, made him pay his tribute to this 

 knight who took his solitary stand against the 

 cattle and held his plume so valiantly erect above 

 the silver spikings of his shield. And if the boy 

 in him went searching milkweeds for a chrysalis 

 — and found it too, green pendant to the rib of 

 leaf, it was the child who would break open a full 

 pod and send its gossamer afloat to the four 

 winds. 



Suppose, too, a late quail called out its single 

 note from By Path Meadow. Entreaty met with 

 swift assurance, back and forth until aU question- 

 ing was stilled. Not so blithe would my father 

 have whistled back his answer to the caU of any 

 inner voice. 



And once that I had urged him forward to 

 a path close-walled with clethra and swamp blue- 

 berry, I found it was no use to warn him out of 

 hurly-burly, pool, and pitfall. These murky dan- 

 gers from which Christian fled so piteously were 



[136] 



