Jan. 19, 1907.] 
93 
1 
| “Here and abouts,” lie replied, “excepting the 
first two years that I worked at my trade, and 
then I whipped the cat.’ ” He looked up at me, 
to see if I knew what he meant, and found me 
intently watching him, for to actually meet a 
cobbler who had practiced that ancient custom 
seemed to me very interesting. I asked him to 
tell me about it, and he went on to explain. 
“In them days most all the people were far¬ 
mers, and grew their own leather. About once 
a year they’d have a shoemaker come to the 
house, and make up boots and shoes enough for 
the whole family. Often I’d stay a month or 
six weeks in one place, and we had good times 
too. The families was larger then than they are 
now, and at most every house there was young 
people, so that nights we’d have apple pearings, 
huskings or dances. The family liked to have 
the shoemaker come and always set out to have 
fun. At one place where • there was three or 
four girls, they hid my tools, so I couldn’t work, 
and we skylarked it all day.” 
As I watched the old man, and fancied the 
white hair turned again to black or brown, and 
filling the shrunken cheeks, painted them with 
:he bloom of youth, and imagined the wiry 
frame responding to young blood, I could not 
flame the girls for-hiding his tools to make liis 
stay the longer. 
He pricked holes, and hammered with the 
nonotonous regularity of a machine, but said no 
nore. When the last nail was driven, and he 
lad carefully felt inside each boot to see that 
10 unclinched points were sticking up, I bade 
lini good-day, wondering why he stopped his 
larrative when he came to that particular house. 
Tying the boots together by the straps, I slung 
hem over my shoulder, and started in the direc- 
ion of the camp. As I reached the railway 
tation, the train from Angowara was just puli¬ 
ng in and I leaned lazily up against the freight 
ilatform to watch the other people hurry. Some 
ushed to get on the train, and others were as 
nxious to get off. Some were bidding depart- 
ng friends good-bye while others craned their 
leeks in search of expected arrivals. At the 
oor of the baggage car a husky looking man 
ras assisting trunks to fall, with a dull, crunch- 
ig thud. The engineer was moving about, pok- 
lg the long nose of his oil can in between the 
pokes of the driving wheels and among the 
laze of gearing. Little round billows of shim¬ 
ming hot gas were crowding each other out of 
re smokestack, while the air pump snorted, im- 
atient at the delay. 
The expressman called “All right here,” the 
aggage man repeated it. and it echoed from one 
latform to another, back to the dapper little 
’ullman conductor at the rear. The train coll¬ 
ector growled a deep “All-aboard,” and waved 
is hand to the engineer, who was climbing into 
is cab. There was a sharp siss-sis-s from the 
rake valve, a stealthy movement of the cars, 
ien a heavy long drawn puff, and the telegraph 
lerator, looking out of his window, set the little 
ey clicking, and reported to the dispatcher 
dumber six gone.” 
As the crowd oh the platform dissolved and 
arted on its various ways, I caught sight of 
le short, stocky form standing with his back 
ward me. .In his right hand he was holding a 
g satchel, and the fingers of the other were 
read out like hooks, clutching a tangled assort¬ 
ed of articles, which included a fish basket, 
rod case, a landing net, and wading boots. 
“Hello, Jim Curtis !” I called and started to¬ 
ut'd him. He wheeled about and said: 
'“Well! I didn’t expect any of you fellows at 
e station. I started off so suddenly I didn’t 
ink to send any word, and I was just waiting 
r these people to thin out a little to see if I 
uldn’t smell out the camp without asking any- 
e where it was.” 
That, was just .like Jim. His long suits were 
rgetting and investigating. He would have 
irehed every bit of woods within five miles 
fore he made an inquiry. Pulling a hoop-pole 
)m a nearby pile and stringing the luggage 
on it, we went tramping up the track with the 
rden between us. 
I didn’t know until this morning just when 
:ould came,” said Jim, “but things let up a 
le at the bank, so I saw my way clear and 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
had barely time to catch the last train. I guess 
1 forgot my fly-book, but maybe my wife put 
'*■ Y\ k a f?' W hen I got to Angowara I 
couldn’t remember what station you told me you 
would be at, but I asked the conductor if he 
knew where three crazy fellows with a couple 
of dogs were camping, and he put me off here. 
Say, these are fine old hills, and how good the 
air smells!” 
Assuring him that this was the right place, and 
that we had flies enough, I began to ask ques¬ 
tions about people and things at Oswenango. 
He could not seem to remember well enough to 
make his answers very interesting, so I gave it 
up The way led through a flat perhaps a mile 
wide, which was surrounded on all sides by 
lofty peaks, and we were just far enough away 
from them to comprehend their size and beauty. 
After a little Jim said: 
Now let’s put this load down, and go sit 
on that pile of ties, until I get a good view of 
all this, country and kinder come to know the 
mountains and where I am at.” 
So we sat down, and looking toward the 
south, I told him their names, as one after 
another he inspected their rugged outlines, and 
noted their individaul pecularities. The one 
furthest down stream, with the great gaunt sides, 
where it had already been twilight for the past 
two hours, was High Point, and South Mountain 
was tied to it by a rocky spine. Hanover was 
separated from them by a deep ravine where the 
shades of evening were already thickening over 
the home of the old bear hunter. The "bright 
light shining on White Rock’s spruce-covered top 
had turned it all to purple, and Wittenberg was 
crowned by a fleecy cloud of silver. 
“Now,” said Jim, “what’s the big scarred old 
fellow, with the round top, that the sun is just 
setting behind?” 
.“Sampel’s Point,” I replied, “and its sky line 
will glow for an hour after the sun has gone.” 
Then we faced about, and looked across the 
Esopus to the great sloping sides of Tice Teneyck 
extending for miles up and down the stream. 
The rays of the declining sun turned its verdure 
into billowy velvet which grew ever brighter as 
our eyes followed it up to the summit. We 
watched the shadows in its great wrinkles grow 
deeper and the golden, light along its base change 
to dark green, -but its crown was still gor¬ 
geously bright as we picked up the ends of our 
hoop-pole and trudged on. 
While we walked along the noiseless path of 
the pine woods, we saw through the undergrowth 
the tongues of flame shoot up from the newly 
lighted camp-fire, illuminating the white tents, and 
the green leaves of the little beeches. Henry 
and Robert were just sitting down to supper 
when our approach brought the dogs tearing out 
into the gloom with loud barkings to welcome 
friends or repel strangers as the case might be. 
As we rounded the tents and came into the light 
of the fire, there was a chorus of “Hellos” and 
“How-are-yous,” followed by a general confusion 
of hand shaking and dog-tail-wagging. 
After a few minutes things got straightened 
out, and a quick levy being made upon the dish 
cupboard, the hitherto vacant side of the table 
was spread. It was too late to think of cook¬ 
ing trout. A deeper notch was cut into the pan 
of baked beans which Mrs. Brown had sent to' 
us, and another slice was taken from the boiled 
ham in our cold storage spring. So we went at 
it with appetites about an hour over due. 
After supper we took a lantern and going into 
a thicket of young hemlocks, it was quick work . 
for so many hands to pick browse enough for 
Jim’s bed. We had expected him for several 
days, so the frame was already waiting. When 
the bed making was finished, Jim set about in¬ 
vestigating the camp. He found the spring and 
drank from it. Next he inspected the cooking 
arch, lifting the griddles off and looking inside. 
The stove pipe attracted his attention and he 
gave it a little shake to see if it was solid. Then 
he walked around behind the arch to examine 
its construction, and fell sprawling into Henry’s 
pit. As he slowly untangled himself from the 
net work of brush and came up out, one leg at a 
time, he asked: 
“Just what particular point of convenience do 
you fellows claim for that contrivance? When 
you get a hole diggin’ fit on, I should think you’d 
go a little further away from camp to do it.” 
But nothing could stop Jim for very long, and 
lie was soon into the tents, trying the beds and 
Oojj'j' furniture, until he came to the cupboard. 
Don t that rock and shake the dishes off when 
the wind blows?” he asked, and after a minute’s 
inspection he gave it a little push. 
t he dishes seemed to be pretty well anchored, 
and kept their places, but a pepper box came 
down from the top shelf, striking him on the 
head and sprinkling his face and eyes quite gen¬ 
erously. After he had gotten through sneezing, 
and was waiting for his eyes to clear up, he said: 
I guess I feel a good deal like a bull father 
had when we lived on the farm. The old fellow 
vvas so ugly they had to keep him chained all 
the time. Once when father and the hired men 
were away he got out. Mother hustled us 
youngsters into the house as quick as she could 
and shut the doors. She didn’t do it any too 
soon,, either, for in about a minute that yard 
wasn t a very healthy place to ‘bring up chil¬ 
dren The dog tackled him first, but only a 
streak of dog and ki-yi’s went round the corner 
ot the barn, and he was lame for a month, 
then the bull went up to a topped buggy that 
was standing out of doors, and flipped it over. 
Next he knocked the well curb off and ’most 
fell into the well. Father had set out a barrel 
of wood ashes that morning intending to make 
a leach of them. The old bull saw the barrel, 
and went f or j t , catching it about in the middle. 
Well! there wasn’t enough ashes left to scour 
a spoon with, and the barrel was just kindling 
wood already split. The bull kinder stopped a 
little, and shook his head, and then began to 
bellow and run, but that time he didn’t aim for 
anything. He went through three or four rail 
fences like a cannonball, and finally wound up 
down on a neighbor’s farm, in a mill pond. Gee! 
I know just how he felt, and I wish I was in 
that pond now,” he concluded, still wiping his 
weeping eyes. 
When Jim got so he could see again, Robert 
and Henry started to the village for some gro¬ 
ceries, and I, having an errand at Mr. Chat¬ 
man’s, went part way with them. Jim said he 
guessed he would stay and watch the camp-fire 
and be company for the dogs. As soon as we 
were out of sight, Robert remarked: 
Jim hasn’t seen the ant hill yet, and probably 
won t until morning, but I’ll bet he pokes a stick 
into it before breakfast.” 
He did not find any takers, for we were all 
of the same mind. The ant hill which Robert 
leferred to was located in the center of the circle 
where our tents were, and of course accounted 
for the little round vacant spot having been 
found in an otherwise dense timber growth. We 
had doubted the advisability of starting camp so 
near the ants, but as it was the most accessible 
place, had chanced it. 
The ants were of the variety which have black 
and tan colored bodies, so we thought if we left 
them alone they would not bother us, and thus 
far we had neighbored with them in peace and 
harmony. _ It had often been predicted that as 
soon as Jim came he would stir them up “just 
to see what they would do.” 
. The boys made a flying trip to the store, for 
it was getting late, and I stayed at Mr. Chat¬ 
man’s until they came back, then we ' walked 
through the woods together. When we were near 
enough to see what was going on in front of 
the tents, Henry grabbed our shoulders and 
stopped us, saying as he did so, “Look there!” 
We looked, and saw Jim sitting by the ant hiil, 
his head bent down intently watching, and hold¬ 
ing a stick and lantern in his hands. 
Winfield T. Sherwood. 
[to be continued.] 
New Publications. 
“Moonface, and Other Stories,” a book by Jac’t 
London, comes to us from the Macmillan Com¬ 
pany. There are six stories in all. “Local 
Color,” ( one of them, is an entertaining yarn in 
London’s best style, and the prospector in “Ah 
Gold Canyon” will call to the mind of every 
reader who knows his west just such a character 
he has known in the flesh. 
