882 
FOREST AND STREAM, 
Antoine on the RaiL 
Near the close of a September day several of the fre- 
quenters of Uncle Lisha's shop were gathered there, 
not lounging in their usual ease, but stirred by an air of 
expectancy which was explained when Solon Briggs en- 
tered and demanded: "Wal, what be you all a-settin' 
here in solemn concave for?" and Uncle Lisha answered: 
"Wal, ye see, Ann Twine's got hum from his hayin' 
taower daown to the lake, and they say 't' th' critter 
act'ally rid on that 'ere railroad they been a-makin', 
leastways he says he did, an' we want to hear him tell 
on 't. He'll be up here to rights, full on't an' b'ilin' 
over. I don't see what's a-henderin' on him." 
He arose and stooped to the low long window, and 
slowly seai-ched the road through the least dusty and 
least wrinkled pane. "I can't see nothin' on him," he 
reported, sitting down on his bench and fumbling among 
his tools with a show of busying himself. 
"A watched pot won't never b'ile," Sam Lovel said; 
"you don't want to be a-lookin' for him." 
"I don't s'pose it r'a'ly makes much odds whether 
no w^e hear him tell on 't, or guess at it;, he does tell 
such almighty yarns," said Uncle Lisha, "but most likely 
he's seen the consarn, an' we'll git some idee o' the looks 
on 't by his tellin'." 
"It don't sca'cely seem 's 'ough I'd much livser resk 
mj'self on the pleggy thing 'n I would in a boat," said 
Joseph Hill, and added after some consideration, "but 
then if you fell ofif'm on 't you wouldn't draound, an' 
I don't s'pose the's no danger of'm sinkin', an'^ they 
don't hafter be oared. I wonder what does make 'em 
go, anyway." 
"Why, you see, the b'ilin' water covaporates into 
steam," Solon explained, "which tlie steam causes the 
wheels to devolve, sim'lar tu a waggin, an' it nat'rally 
f oilers the hul thing hes got tu go. Watts im^ented it 
one time when he sot by the stove discomposin' of a 
hyme, an' the tea kittle b'iled over. The' was a piece 
cum in the paper abaout it." 
"You see haow 't is, don't ye, JozefiE?" Sam asked. 
"Seems most as if you could go right tu work an' make 
one, don't it?" 
"They du say 't you can see the steam on't from the 
top o' Tater Hill, a-skivin' along ju' lil<;c the smoke of 
a chimbly dragged ag'in' the wind by the small eend," 
said Pelatiah Gove, slowly ruminating his cud of spruce 
gum. 
"Folks '11 be a-fiyin' next," Tom Hamlin predicted. 
"They hev done that already heretobefore," said Solon, 
"them airy knots in the berloons." 
"I tell ye, I b'lieve the world's a-comin' tu an eend 
'fore long," said Timothy Lovel, his serious face almost 
expressing alarm. "You know it tells 'n the Bible the'll 
be much goin' tu an' fro on the airth for one sign." 
"Sam Hill!" Joseph ejaculated with unusual earnest- 
ness, "if it's got tu this year it most seems 'ough I'd 
jes' 's lives hev it come afore 'tater diggin' as just arter. 
But I don't s'pose M'ri' 'd be satisfied if she didn't get 
all done haouse cleanin' fust. Hello! I b'lieve that 'ere's 
Antoine a-comin'," and presently the Canadian entered 
with modest consciousness of his importance as a dis- 
tinguished adventurer, yet greeting his friends with 
accustomed "Hello, One' Lasha, an' all de boy, haow 
ye was, tout la companie?" 
There was a cordial response, and after shaking hands 
with ever3'^one he seated himself and made a comprehen- 
sive survey of the company, Avhile he was the object 
of a close scrutiny, 
"Wal, sah, boy, Ah'll a'n't see but you was all look 
natchel," he declared, when he had completed the in- 
spection, and his eyes again dwelt on Uncle Lisha. 
"Bah gosh, One' Lasha, you'll a'n't get more hoi' you 
was w'en Ah'U go 'way!" which was indeed remarkable, 
since Antoine had been absent a whole month. 
"Wal, I do' know but what I've kep' up my row tol'- 
able well," the old man admitted. "An' you b'en pooty 
tough, hev ye, Ann Twine? An' fetched hum yer pock- 
ets all full o' money, I s'pose!" 
"Wal, Ah'll a'n't goin' bought all of Danvit jes yet, 
only half of it, Ah guess, prob'ly," said Antoine, making 
conspicuous use of a brand new red and yellow cotton 
handkerchief. 
"We_ beared 'at you'd be'n a-bu3dn' some o' that 'ere 
new railroad." 
"Oh, dat a'n't so, One' Lasha," Antoine announced, 
"but Ah'll was see lot of it, an' seh, Ah'll r-r-rode on it, 
bah gosh! Yes, sah, Ah'll r-r-rode on it, me!" 
At this there was a general pricking of ears, and each 
settled himself moi'e comfortably to give undivided at- 
tention while Antoine deliberated how td begin the re- 
lation of his adventures; he filled and lighted his pipe. 
"W'en fust Ah'll see dat rail roll goin', an' hear all 
hees nowse, Ah a'n't t'ink Ah'll rode on him, for hees 
mos' more worse he look, so hugly, an' he roar an' hol- 
ler more hugly as he look. But bum bye Ah'll gat use 
of it, for see it ev'ry day where Ah'll work on de hayin', 
an' a'n't be so 'fraid. 
"More as dat, Ah'll see Airishmans, more as forty, rode 
on de woggin behin' of it for to sow gravel on top de 
rail roll, an' he'll a'n't keel it, an' Ah'll t'ink 'f he a'n't 
keel dat Airishmans dat was better for be keel as mos' 
anybody. Ah guess, me, he a'n't prob'ly keel one Franch- 
man dat was bes' for be save! 
"So w'en Ah'll gat hayin' all do', Ah'll mek off mah 
min' Ah'll goin' rode on dat rail roll, so Ah'll be able 
for tol' all 'bout it 'f Ah live. 
"Wal, seh, Ah'll go on de deeple— dat de place w'ere 
rail roll stop for you git on — an' Ah'll bought tickle — 
jes' same for show — fifty cen' Ah'll pay — den Ah'll go 
on de warf an' walk raoun' jus' sem 'f Ah don' care no 
more for rail roll as 'f he was leetely w'eel-barrel. 
"But Ah tol' you bam by© w'en Ah'll see him com- 
in' an' look jus' 'f he was goin' run raght top of me, an' 
holler 'whoop! whoop!' an' rung hees bell lak meetin- 
haouse, an' smoke lak' coal pit an' bile 'f he was goin' 
bus' off hees cover, 'spe-e-e-e!' bah gosh; Ah'll willin' 
for sol' mah tickle for twenty-fav cen' an' Ah'll run in 
de deeple an' peek aout de door till dat rail roll staji' 
still an' de capt'in come on de w'arf an' holler 'All 
'board!' 
"Den de deeple man push me an' tol' me 'jomp on!' 
an' Ah'll run fas' for clamb on de hwood pile behin' de 
injun, an' deeple man holler 'jomp on de cart,' an' de 
capt'in mek notion wid hees han' an' Ah run, run w'ere 
he was, an' he push me up de stair on de canawl boat 
dey call cart, an' mos' 'fore Ah'll got hopen de door de 
rail roll begin for rung hees bell sem 'f meetin's all ready, 
an' he beegin cough 'ugh — ugh!' an' dat canawl boat 
jomp so Ah'll go in on mah all four, an' de folks 
laught so Ah'll pooty shem, Ah tol' you, Ah'll a'n't 
lef mahself dar long 'fore Ah'll peek it up, an' set on fus' 
seat Ah can. 
''It was all cushi'n harm chair for two folks, two row 
of it, wid road between of it, an' all jes' nice he can be, 
winder all 'long de side an' one on de en' mos' lak One' 
Lasha is, honly it gat but jus' one — ah — feel bad." 
"One what?" Uncle Lisha asked. 
"Wh.v, w'at you call it one piece glass — ache?" 
"Oh, good airth an' seas, pane!" Uncle Lisha shouted. 
"Yas, dat jus' de sem, Ah'll said," Antoine said, with 
the utmost complacency, and improving the interruption 
of his story to light his pipe. 
"Wal, sah! pooty soon dat rail roll stop for cough 
an' go more fas' an fas', mos' lak litlin', an' Ah'll t'ink 
he said all de tarn 'Ho, you a'n't know where 3'ou was 
go,' an' mah heart mek answer inside of me, 'Ah b'lieve 
dat so, Ah wish you go a lit' more slow.' 
"An' w'en Ah'll see all de tree run race an' de fence 
streak lak ribbin in de win', bah gosh, Ah'll was mos' 
scare an' wish Ah'll a'n't come, but Ah'll hang on de 
seat lak good feller, Ah tol' you. Den Ah'll look see if 
de odder folks was scare, but some of it was talkin'. 
Ah'll can heard it, honly see hees mout' go, an' some of 
it was read on de paper, an' one hoi' hwomans was heat 
off hees baskit all de tam, an' Ah'll t'ink if dey a'n't scare 
Ah'll a'n't scare too. 
"Den Ah'll look in dat leetly winder Ah'll tol' you 
baout, an' dar was lot more folkses in dar; some of it 
read on de paper, some of it talkin' an' 'nudder hoi' 
hwomans heatin' off hees baskit all de tam, an' dar was 
one mans look like Frenchman, an' he was look so hard 
at me Ah'll mek bow at him, an' he mek bow at me. 
Den Ah'll grin at it kan o' pleasant an' he do jus' de 
sem. Den Ah'll blow mah nose of mah new hamper- 
cher, an' bah gosh he was pull one jus' lak it for blew his 
nose! Dat make me beegin for be mad, have mek fun 
at me, an' Ah'll look pooty hugly at dat feller Ah'll tol' 
you, an' he look jus' so hugly to me! 
"Ah'll shake mah fis' to him, an' he was shook hees 
fis' to me, and bah gosh Ah'll was be mad for leek it. 
Ah tol' you. Ah'll t'row mah hat, Ah'll jomp on it, 
Ah'll pull mah hairs, Ah'll holler grea' deal swore, an' 
dat feller do jus' sem lak me, an' bose of it faght so hard 
dat way lak hoi' t'under more as fav minute; an', seh, 
dem folkses a'n't scare 't all, but dey was laught lak 
ev'ryt'ing, an' den Ah'll stop for gat mah breeze, 
an' den, seh,_ w'at you t'ink Ah'll fan' aout. 
W"al, seh, dat winder a'n't not'ing but lookin' glass, an' 
Ah'll be'n M'as'e all dat faght on mahself, Ah'll a'n't 
tam for be shem 'fore de capt'in come in de sloop an' 
holler 'Vairgenn! Vairgenne!' and den de rail roll holler 
'Yooloop! j^oop!' an' beegin for go slow, an' w'en he 
mos' stop Ah'll scrabble for de door, an' den he stop 
quick 'r-r-roop!' An' Ah'll go on all mah four 'g'in, jus' 
sem Ah come in — so Ah'll go aout, an' mos' 'fore Ah'll 
gat on de w'arf de capt'in holler 'All 'board!' an' de rail 
roll ring hees bell an' beegin for cough, an' nex' Ah'll 
see Ah'll a'n't see it honly de smoke an' de nowse of it, 
sayin', 'Got j'our money! Half a dollar! Got your 
money! Half a dollar!' but Ah a'n't care 'f he was, Ah'll 
gat mah wort' of it." 
"Wal, I don't b'lieve I want tu resk myself on the 
'tarnal contraption," Uncle Lisha declared. 
"It don't sca'cely seem 's 'ough I would, anyways, 
erless they'd 'gree to go slow, an' stop an' le' me git off 
when I wanted tu," said Joseph. 
"Look a-here, Ann Twine," said Uncle Lisha, rising 
and going to the door of the kitchen, "you go in an' 
tell the women folks 'bout it, if you'd jest as livs, for I 
know they're dyin' tu hear on 't." 
Antoine was not loth to comply, and the old man 
closing the door for a moment behind him whispered 
gustily to the company, "I'll go 'long in an' see if he 
tells his story twicte alike." 
Rowland E. Robinson. 
Just About a Boy.— XI. 
The old black canoes had served their time and were 
not worth keeping over winter. 
Their canvas sides had fallen into that "touchy" con- 
dition which ends the usefulness of canvas as a boat 
material, and the tough elm ribs had become water- 
soaked and lame from hard usage. 
The boy and I drydocked these two little cruisers, 
overhauled them from stem to stern, added a few 
touches of paint, a brace here and there, and then con- 
cluded they would last until the "glass" ice should form 
on the river. 
"Say, I'll tell you what less do," said the youngster, 
"less git our outfit 'n' float down the river far as we 
can 'fore it freezes; nen let the canoes go 'n' come back 
'on th' train, will yeh?" 
I smoked over this idea a little while and thought 
about the ducks, snipe, squirrels and fish that lived along 
the little river. 
Then there were the glorious mornings, the hazy days 
of Indian summer, when one wants to do nothing but 
float, float, float all day long— float until the painted sky 
blazes across the west and it is time for a blue wisp 
of smoke to twi.st upward through the red and yellow 
leaves, 
A-a-a-nah! my tillicums, those are days of joy, and I 
saw many such days as I mentally reviewed the winding 
length of river that twisted among the hills to the 
southeast until it came to the yellow flood of the old 
Missouri, two hundred miles away, 
"Yes, I will float on the river with you until the ice 
stops us or until there is no more river to float on," I 
answered. _ 
It did not take more than a couple of days to prepare 
for the voyage, and it was with a satisfied feeling of en- 
joyment that we pushed out into the current that hurries 
away from the dam where the boy caught his "spick'rel." 
"We'd ought to make twenty er twenty-five mile 'fore 
sundown, hadn't we?" asked the boy. 
"See here, son, you must want to cut this voyage 
short, or else go clear to the Gulf. Why not take it 
easy? We've only got a matter of two hundred miles to 
go to get to the Missouri, and that old river is good 
for nothing but sturgeon and shovel-nosed catfish, which 
we as sportsmen and voyagers on discovery bent want 
nothing to do with." 
The boy smiled a queer little smile and said: "Huh! 
guess yer right." 
We put a little bit of good, outdoor muscle on the 
paddles as we shot through the shallow riffles below 
the dam, and left a rippling wake through the "still 
hole" that ran past the big walnut trees and ended at 
the island where I first met the boy. 
"That's where I snagged that ole Balaam first time 
I tried your rod. Gee! I had a picnic that day! Wonder 
I didn't bu'st yer tip, wasn't it?" the boy said, as we 
slid down the boiling riffle and passed the bridge pier 
in midstream. 
We were still in town and had two more bridges to 
pass before we should run out of the settlements, and 
we were anxious to get into the wilds. 
"Pisht! pisht!" said the double blades, as we gUded 
on down the shadow-decked current, and the gurgle 
under the bow sang the travel song that is dear to every 
canoeist. 
The bridges were a mile behind when we shot around 
a sharp curve at the foot of a riffle, and brought con- 
sternation to a troop of girls who, clad in old, discarded 
dresses, were splashing about in the shallow stream, try- 
ing to make themselves believe they were swimming. 
Immediately there was a skurrying into the bushes, 
as these soaked mermaids went np the bank helter skel- 
ter, frightened out of a year's growth by the appearance 
of these two silent black shapes on the swift current. 
We caught a fleeting glance of a bit of "local color" 
too, as one of the girls went into the bushes like a scared 
rabljit. 
Her bathing costume was a suit of bright red under- 
wear. No wonder she ran ! 
After the excitement died out, and the titters and 
little screams had lost themselves astern, the boy looked 
back over his shoulder and grinned as only a homely 
boy can, 
"Funny, wasn't it, huh?" he asked. 
As we turned the bend a mile below we noted that 
same scarlet note of color just at the river edge, and 
the boy grinned again. 
Riffles and long reaches of still water slid under the 
keels as we journeyed on, until a bunch of cedar trees 
loomed blue through the other timber. 
"Did I ever tell you how Deacon Lowe got scart out 
o' camp down here at the cedars?" asked the bov. 
"No, I don't think so," I replied. 
The boy laughed in his throaty, chuckling way, and 
began the yarn, 
"I was campin' down here 'lone one summer, 'n' Dea- 
con he wanted to come 'long I says 'All right,' 'n' so 
Deacon come down with me one day when I Avent to 
town for supplies. 
"We was here two er three days, 'n' one night 'bout 
sundown Deacon heard a Bob White whistlin' up on 
the bluff above camp, where they's a grove o' little jack- 
oaks. 
" 'Go 'n' git him. Deacon,' I says, 'n' Deacon took 
my ole Sary 'n' went. 
"Purty soon, 'boom!' she went, 'way off 'mong th' 
trees, 'n' I figgered Deacon 'd sure got that quail. 
"After awhile he comes into camp with th' quail, 'n' 
lookin' kind o' funny an' pale. 
" 'What's up. Deacon?' I says, 'n' he says: 'They's a 
graveyard up there right above camp on the bluff, d'you 
know that?' 
" 'I laffed 'n' says: 'Yes, what o' that?' ■ 
"Deacon says: 'You goin' to stay here when yeh 
know that?' 
" 'Sure,' I says; 'graveyards caii't hurt yeh none, 'n' 
'sides that, ain't I been here for two er three weeks, 'n' 
no ghost ain't come into camp yet?' 
"That kinder stuck Deacon, 'n' he didn't say nothin' 
more 'bout it while we eat supper, but he kep' lookin' 
toowords that graveyard kind o' uneasy when it begin 
to git dark. 
"Fin'ly he says : 'I'm sick.' 
" 'What's the matter?' I says, 'n' he couldn't tell, only 
'at he was sick. 
" 'Well,' I says, 'you stay in camp here 'n' I'll go 'n' 
'tend to the boats, nen if you feel worse I'll git a horse 
'n' buggy 'n' take you to town,' 
"So I went down to where the boats was tied, 'n' by 
gee! there was abont a dozen folks come down with a 
horse 'n' wagon to fish all night. 
"I told 'em I had a sick pardner, 'n' one feller says: 
'Where is he? I'm a doctor,' he says, ' 'n' my medsun 
case is in th' wagon.' 
"So he got his medsun, nen we went up to camp, 'n' 
gee! they wasn't no Deacon there! 
"I thought that was funny, 'n' I commenced to git 
scart, cos I thought mebby Deacon 'd got out o' his head 
'n' went a-trailin' off' int' th' woods right at night. 
"Nen I happened to think about that graveyard, 'n' I 
says: 'Wait a minnit;' 'n' I run up on t' th' railroad 'n' 
looked toowords town, 'n' there was Deacon hittin' 
th' trail like he was in a awful hurry. 
"Nen I kind o' savied like 'n' knowed th' Deacon was 
juss scart 'bout th' graveyard full he thought he was 
sick, 'n' so I told th' doctor 'bout th' graveyard, 'n' he 
laffed 'n' said: 'Prob'ly that was all 't ailded Deacon.' 
" 'N' sure 'nuff it was too, 'cause Deacon wouldn't 
come back to camp with me when I went to town next 
day. 'Huh, uh,' he says; 'no graveyard camp in mine,' he 
says; nen I told the ress o' the fellers 'n town 'bout it, 
'n' Deacon gits it 'bout bein' ghost sick yet sometimes. 
"Say," with a squint at the low-hanging sun, "less 
camp there to-night; they's a good place, 'n' lots o' 
fish, 'n' th' bess spring in th' country 'bout a hunderd 
yards fr'm camp. What d'yeh say?" 
"All right." 
