FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Aug. 4, 1906. 
168 
Uncle Shaw and Some Others.— II. 
Incidents of Life in a Vermont Village. 
(Continued from page 130.) 
Saturday morning when the sun rose it dis¬ 
appeared into a bank of clouds that lay heavy 
over the eastern hills. A strong wind sprung 
up from the south, which changed to east and 
soon great masses of clouds were rolling along 
the mountain sides, now hiding them half way 
to their bases, then blowing away again, reveal¬ 
ing their tops, which looked as if they were 
suspended in the air. The air was filled with 
dampness, which soon became rain and all day 
long there was a steady fall. 
One after another the farmers, clad in rubber 
coats and high boots, came to the store to do 
their trading for the coming week, and to get 
the mail. The store was the congregating place 
of the people of the eJitire neighborhood. Here 
the gossip of each locality was related and em¬ 
bellished as it passed from mouth to mouth. 
That evening as a number were sitting around 
waiting for Uncle Shaw to put up their orders, 
the young man, whom he had called George, 
came in. Walking over to the end of the 
counter, he took a drink out of the old cracked 
pitcher that stood there, and sitting down on 
a box of shoes, said, “Say, Shaw, I was up ter 
Hi Kelly’s this morning to borror his culti- 
vater, and he was jest getting ready to go out 
to John’s Stream after them boys. He said 
Fred promised to come home Friday sure, if 
he didn’t before; ’cause Saturday he and Fred 
were going over to Johnsburg on some law 
business.” 
“What! hain't them boys got back yet?” said 
Uncle Shaw, in astonishment.” 
“No, they hain’t been seen nor heard nothin’ 
on since they left, and Miss Kelly is sure they’ve 
got lost. Hi, he don't think they’ve got lost, 
but he says he’s afraid something is the matter 
that they can't git back—p’raps- got hurt or 
something.” 
“Wall, I hope nothin’ hain’t happened to 
them; but it seemed ter me when they told me 
where they was goin’ that it was a little resky 
for them boys to go out there.” 
“Fred Kelly ought to know how to get ’round 
in the woods, he’s alius lived here and worked 
in the woods two winters,” said some one. 
"I know he has,” said Uncle Shaw, “but you 
see there’s been a master lot of choppin’ up 
around there, and the roads run every which 
way, and most anybody could get lost in them.” 
“That’s so,” said another, “did you hear ’bout 
that Frenchman that got lost up in the Higan 
Woods? He went in with some others under 
Fred Gay to peel bark. They got to the place 
where they were going to camp late in the 
afternoon, and commenced to build a camp at 
once. Fred, he set some at work splitting out 
cedar shingles, and this fellow was to carry them 
to the camping place. He was a big fellow 
and took big armfuls and soon caught up with 
them. He stood ’round a minute and then went 
to his grub-box and took out something to eat 
and started to find the spring; and that was the 
last they saw of him. When they came to 
eat supper, they missed him, and went all around 
calling for him. The next morning they all 
hunted for him, but the only thing they found 
was the place where he had staid all night. 
“They had to stop and build the camp, and 
as soon as they got it done so they could sleep 
in it, they looked for him again. One of the 
men claimed he saw him running through the 
woods; said he knew him by his big red beard. 
But they all laughed at him, ’cause they said 
they guessed he wouldn’t run away.” 
“And they hain’t never heard nothing of him 
no more?” asked a small boy, who had been 
listening with eyes and mouth wide open. 
“No; Fred Gay said he had skipped for 
Canada most likely, and so they gave up look¬ 
ing for him. But you can’t make some of them 
fellows believe that he ain’t ’round there some¬ 
where.” 
Just then Frank came in, and with him was a 
young man about his own age. As they sat 
down on such seats as they could find, the young 
man said, “Say, Uncle Shaw, Frank is getting 
to be quite a sportin’ man.” 
“Is that so; what’s he been doing now?” 
“Wall, to-night I saw him running all over 
the village after that stripe-faced heifer of 
yourn, and I thought I would help him. I went 
into the barn to git some salt to call her with, 
and jest then she came running in. She went 
right to her tie-up and Frank came along be¬ 
hind and he didn’t see me. He picked up the 
milking-stool and hit her a whack, and said, 
“There, gol blast ye! I’ll bet yer two dollars 
and a half, if you will take it out of a five-dollar 
bill, that I won't run all over town after you 
another night.’ ” 
Everybody laughed but Frank, who looked 
sheepish, and said, “Wall, I don’t see why ’tis 
that a cow alius wants ter lay aout the very 
worst nights there is.” 
As some were preparing to go out. in the 
storm, the door was thrown open, and some one 
called, “Say, bring a lantern out here, will ye?” 
Some one who recognized the voice, said, 
“Hello, Doctor, what’s the matter; broke any¬ 
thing?” 
“Yes,” said he called Doctor, “jest as I was 
coming down that little hill up by the head of 
Uncle Shaw’s back paster, a great big animal 
jumped out into the road jest behind me and 
let the worst yell out of him I ever heard in my 
life. My boss jumped and broke one of the 
traces; but that didn't matter, as she has pulled 
the wagon clear down here by the lines. She’s 
a good un.” 
By the help of Frank and some cord the har¬ 
ness was fixed, and the Doctor got in. 
“Ain’t ye goin’ to stop, Doctor?” said Frank. 
“No, I can’t now; there’s a man up to the 
depot that’s got a sick cow, and he’s sent for 
me to come up there as quick as I can.” 
"What do yer s’pose that critter was?” 
“I dunno; it wasn’t much bigger than a good,, 
big dog, but its yell was as big as a hundred 
cats;” and the doctor disappeared in the dark¬ 
ness. ■ 
“The doctor must be putty well known to be 
sent for so far,” said some one. 
“I guess he is,” said one old man. “When I 
was down to Ryegate, I heard them talking 
about him.” 
"Somebody sent up for him?” 
“No, he was down there on a hoss trade, and 
was stopping at the tavern; and putty late that 
night the stable-boy came in and told the tavern 
keeper that his hoss had got hurt. They started 
to go out and the tavern keeper knew that the 
doctor was there, so he asked him to go out. 
When they got there, they found that the hoss 
had got in front of the cattle and one had hooked 
it in the side putty bad. It was laying down in 
the manger and seemed to be in a good deal of 
pain. They knocked off some boards and got 
it out on the barn floor. The tavern keeper 
said, ‘This is my best hoss. Doctor, and I want 
you to do the best you can for him.’ 
“ ‘Wall,’ said Doctor ‘he’s putty bad off now; 
that’s a fact. He’s laid here too long ’tliout 
attention; but now I’m here, and I’ll fix him up 
and you'll see a big change in him.’ 
“They found that the hoss had got hooked in 
the side right back of the foreleg. He had laid 
in the hay and chaff and was in a good deal of 
pain. The doctor asked for a pan of warm 
milk and water. They got it for him, and he 
washed the place all out clean. Then the 
doctor washed it with some stuff he took out 
of that little box he lugs ’round with him, and 
made somebody hold the hoss’s head down so 
he would keep still. 
“Then he took a needle and some silk out of 
his box and drawed the gash up together an’ 
sewed it. After he got it all fixed up, he put 
on some salve out of a box he had, and told 
the tavern keeper jest how to take care of it, 
and not to give the hoss any grain till it was 
all well. 
“The hoss began to get a little bit oneasy by 
this time, and the doctor said they had better 
get him up on his feet. So they lifted his head 
and he rose on to his forelegs, and died in a 
minit.” 
After the laugh had subsided, some one asked 
what it was that had frightened the doctor’s 
horse. Various guesses were given, Uncle Shaw 
said, “I dunno what ’twas; but I hain’t the least 
doubt but it was the critter that killed my sheep, 
and the first thing I do next week will be to set 
a trap for it.” 
The conversation turned to the price of lambs 
and wool, and other things that farmers are 
interested in, and one by one they picked up 
their various bundles and went out into the 
storm toward home. 
Just as Frank was preparing to shut up, the 
door opened and in came Fred’s father. 
“Good evening, Mr. Kelly,” said Uncle Shaw, 
“somebody was saying to-night that the boys 
hadn’t got home, and you had gone over there 
arter um. Did ye find um?” 
“No, I went over and got Henry Ireland, 
and we went over to the camp at the dam. 
They had been there, but had gone. We looked 
all around, but could not find any of them. It 
was raining so hard that we couldn’t find any 
tracks if they had made any.” 
"They had been at the camp, had they?” 
“Yes, they must have staid there all the time 
they were out there, and left only this morning. 
The stove was hardly cold when we got there.” 
“What are you going to do?” asked Frank. 
“I don’t know what to do. Henry thought I 
had better come out here and see if you had 
heard anything. I went over to the hotel, but 
they didn’t know anything about them there.” 
“I was a little bit afraid to have them go out 
there, but it wa’n’t none of my business, so I 
didn’t say anything,” said Uncle Shaw. “There 
must be lots of roads all ’round there, and they 
have got all mixed up and Fred can’t find the 
way out. But then, there’s lots of other camps 
’round there and they can’t help finding them.” 
“That’s so,” said Mr. Kelly; “but you see 
they didn’t have very much food with them. 
They were only going to be gone two or three 
night, and you know a boy is always hungry.” 
