May .3, 1913 
FOREST AND STREAM 
557 
that Jack Smith, whose dad had bought the 
Gilson place, was a fine scholar an’ would some 
day git the finest gal in the neighborhood an’ 
she was dead sure of it, an’ then looked straight 
at me. I was only fifteen then, but I never had 
seen any gal that just took my eye as Jane 
Barnes did. 
“The next day I put off to school an’ begun 
my fust learnin’ with Jane a-settin’ jest in the 
seat to my left. I expected she’d make fun of 
me with all the rest when I had to confess I 
only knowed ’bout half the alphabet. She never 
laughed, but looked down right hard at Jack 
Smith when he commenced to giggle on account 
of my ignorance. I don’t blame him now, but 
then I wanted to punch his head. I knowed 
Jane didn’t like fightin’, so I had nothin to do 
but dig away at my books, an’ I did for nigh 
six months. By that time I could read better 
than Jack, and often read the newspapers at the 
corners where we got our mail an’ groceries. 
“It seemed to me that I had worked ’bout 
hard enough to have the best gal in the neigh¬ 
borhood take a little more notice of me, so one 
day I asked her if she liked any one ’bout here 
any better’n she did me. 
“Waal, the breath was clean tuck out ov me 
when she brought that durned Jack Smith up 
again in this way, an’ it was cruel, too, for it 
was always the easiest thing in the world for 
him to work, an’ the very thought o’ work al¬ 
most made me sick.” 
“ ‘What work did you ever do, Ben ?’ asked 
she. 
“ ‘All that ever had to be done,’ said I. 
“ ‘You never stripped that cane last sorghum 
time; you’ve never helped your dad git wood in; 
jest tell me what you ever did do?’ 
“ ‘Dad always gits in wood a week ahead, 
so what’s the use of me gittin’ in more?’ 
“ ‘Does your dad git in sorghum a week 
ahead ?’ 
“ ‘I was sick last sorghum time.’ 
“ ‘Ben, you weren’t; you weren’t; nothin’ 
but jest lazy, an’ I tell you, you’ll have to change 
your habits.’ 
“I had no habits to change, but I went away 
determined to work as hard as Jack Smith ef 
it killed me. 
“So next day I went out in the woods with 
dad to cut rails. Mam was tickled nearly to 
death, an’ after I had started out, I heard her 
say to dad: ‘There, didn’t I tell you Ben’s goin’ 
to make a man of his-self yet!’ 
“I helped dad saw the first tree down an’ 
cut one length off, then he had to go back to 
the house to git a wedge. Waal, I knowed a 
cool place, fifty yards away, so went there for 
a little rest. When dad come back, I wasn’t no¬ 
where to be seen, but I seen him, an’ he jest 
looked round an’ shook his head an’ I’m sure 
he said, ‘Jest as I told you, old woman.’ 
“Waal, Jane knowed I’d tried an’ failed an’ 
got so she wouldn't even look at me. I tell you 
I missed her eyes. They were the softest, pret¬ 
tiest eyes in that • whole country, an’ they be¬ 
longed to the best gal, too. 
“Early that spring several families got the 
Montana fever. Dad got it, too, an’ so did Jane’s 
people. I thought then would be my time to git 
her sure, but what did Jack Smith’s daddy do 
but conclude to go too. Well, we all went. 
“The trip was a hard one, an’ it tired me 
out so that I had ’bout concluded to give Jane up. 
“She seemed to grow prettier every day an’ 
my folks was anxious for me to git her, but 
Jane sort of suspected somethin’ was up, an’ 
she jest plainly told the folks that she’d never 
marry a man tliat wouldn’t work enough to keep 
hisself, let alone a wife. 
“The next day she saw me or rather I saw 
her, for I went over to her dad’s to tell him 
that dad would be ready to build that division 
fence. 
“Jane said to me: ‘Ben, ef you are the 
smallest part of a man, you’ll help build that 
fence an’ do some of the clearin’.’ 
“The next day I got my axe an’ started out 
in earnest an’ worked like a nigger till noon. 
Jane must have seen me, for when I passe^l her 
house she gave me such a smile that I felt well 
paid for my mornin’s work. 
“In the afternoon I went it harder than 
ever. Had jest cut down a tree as big as thisen, 
when I stopped to brush the sweat from my 
face, when that smile came back to me as plain 
as could be, an’ I set down a minute to think. 
“Those eyes were glorious, so soft an’ 
dreamy-like I closed mine to see hern better, so 
leaned back ag’in the tree an’ ’fore I knowed 
it, was asleep an’ didn’t wake up till past supper 
time. When I passed Jane’s, she wa’nt no¬ 
where to be seen. I knowed she’d been listenin’ 
for my choppin’, but didn’t hear it any more’n 
I did. 
“Waal, next mornin’ I set out ag’in, but was 
too stiff' an’ tired from workin’. It was misery 
to move, so I jest set my axe an’ myself down 
an’ tried to think of some other way out of it. 
That gal I knowed was worth cuttin’ up that 
whole forest into tooth-picks fur, but there must 
surely be some other way, so I giv’ up gittin’ 
her by choppin’ an’ went down to the brook. 
“Maybe you saw my warnin’. I fust had it, 
‘No fishin’ aloud here,’ but one day I went down 
to take a look at my old friends, when I saw 
two fellers a-fishin’ away as though my sign 
weren’t there. 
“ ‘Didn’t you see that sign ?’ 
“ ‘Yes,’ said one of them smart Alicks, ‘but 
they don’t teach the Injun language in Eastern 
colleges,’ an’ then he grinned at me. 
“ ‘But they teach yellin’, rowin’ an’ swim- 
min’, don’t they?’ 
“ ‘Yes,” he answered, lookin’ puzzled like. 
“ ‘We’ll have a sample of your swimmin’,’ 
an’ I shoved him off the rocks. 
“Waal, I had to hand him a pole to keep 
him from goin’ over the falls. I pulled him up 
the bank an’ dragged him to my sign an’ I’ll be 
durned if the critter couldn’t read as well as 
you or me—but here I’m gittin’ off my story 
ag’in,” said Ben, with an amused twinkle in his 
eye. “Waal, next mornin’ I was more discour¬ 
aged than I ever was in my hull life, so after 
breakfast I dragged my weary bones down to 
the deep pool just above the falls. Maybe you 
saw it as you passed up the crick. Oh, you did, 
did you? Waal, in those rocks that hang over 
the deepest place I found a seat where the rocks 
jest seemed made for a lazy back like mine. I 
set there tryin’ to study some other way to 
Jane’s affections, while I was studyin’ with my 
eyes on the trout (big lazy fellows). I got to 
thinkin’ what a glorious life theirs must be 
Nothin’ to do but lay there quiet in that cool 
water an’ occasionally wriggle up an’ take in 
some onlucky grasshopper or fly, then back ag'/n 
an’ float under the cool shady rocks. I was 
growin’ drowsy, when all at once the water 
seemed to come up all ’bout me an’ I felt so 
cool an’ comfortable an’ then sure enough I had 
my wish. I was one of those lucky trout. The 
fust thing I did was to look up an’ see if that 
feller was a-settin’ there on the rock lookin’ at 
us. Waal, there he was but asleep an’ I was 
glad we had changed places. 
“I always was sociable, so I swum over 
where several of my speckled brothers were, an’ 
passed the time of day with them. They nodded 
an’ seemed to think me nothin’ uncommon. An’ 
indeed, it didn’t seem unusual to me, but I was 
from Arkansas, an’ had to ask questions, so I 
said: ‘Where do you fellers sleep?’ 
“They looked a little surprised at my ques¬ 
tion, but answered : ‘Why, right here !’ 
“ ‘Yes, but what keeps you from going over 
the falls?’ 
“ ‘Why, you have to keep wrigglin’, of 
course.’ 
“ ‘What! Wriggle in your sleep !’ 
“ ‘Yes, of course.’ 
“Thinkin’ they were guyin’ me, I started 
off on a tour of exploration with several fellers 
’bout my size. After swimmin’ round the pool 
half a dozen times I begun to git tired in dead 
earnest an’ felt as ef nothin’ but a nap would 
rest me, so turned to my companions an’ said: 
‘I’ll be much obliged to you ef you’ll show me 
to a bed room.’ 
“They all looked puzzled, so I explained, 
‘I’m tired and want rest. Ef I stop for only 
a minute I’ll go down stream.’ 
“ ‘Look! look!’ said one of the fellers. 
‘Look at that lubber; he’s goin’ to roll off those 
rocks an’ git a-duckin’.’ 
‘‘I looked up at the feller I used to be an’ 
he had slipped down. It did look as though 
the lazy hulk I had left was goin’ to foller me. 
I begun to sympathize with him, for I could 
see by the way he was lyin’ that his back was 
on the sharp edge of a rock, an’ must feel 
somethin’ like mine, for I was gitten most awful 
tired of wrigglin’ against the current. I drifted 
down a bit when one of the fellers swam to me 
an’ said: ‘Say, stranger, don’t you know you’re 
gitten too near the falls; you’ll be smashed to 
pieces ef you go over there.’ 
“Waal, I begun to paddle back to the place 
where I left the rest, but it was hard work, an’ 
J was hot an’ felt sweaty in spite of bein’ in 
the water. When I did git back I was clean 
tuckered out an’ blowin’ like a porpoise. 
“I’d only been in the water an hour, but it 
seemed to me an age. I’d a give anythin’ in the 
world to have been out on shore an’ said so to 
one who had kinder looked after me. 
“ ‘Why,’ he said, ‘you wouldn’t last long 
there; you’d be drowned.’ 
“I gave a sickly kind of grin an’ said I’d 
risk it ef I knowed how to git out, but I said 
I’ve got to have rest of some kind. 
“‘Don’t you ever stop wrigglin?’ I asked, 
wishin’ I could rub my back, for it seemed al¬ 
most broken. 
‘‘‘No,’ said my friend; ‘never! unless you 
want to go over there,’ givin’ his tail a twist ia 
the direction of the falls. 
“I looked up longingly at my former self 
an’ to my horror saw it had slipped down an’ 
was just balancin’ on the edge of the rocks. 
{Continued on page 578 .) 
