'Well, six years after I had gone away, one evening in midsummer, we came into the harbour of Quebec. I had been long in the southern seas. When I went ashore, on a day's leave, and wandered off in the fields and got the smell of the north, I went out of my head - went crazy for a look at the hills o'Faraway and my own people. Nothing could stop me then. I drew my pay, packed my things in a bag and off I went. Left the 'Burg afoot the day after; got to Faraway in the evening. It was beautiful - the scent o'the new hay that stood in cocks and wnrows on the hill - the noise o'the crickets -'the smell o'the grain - the old house, just as I remembered them; just as I had dreamed of them a thousand times.
And - when I went by the gate Bony - my old dog - came out and barked at - me and I spoke to him and he knew me and came and licked my hands, rubbing upon my leg. I sat down with him there by the stone wall and - the kiss of that old dog - the first token of love I had known for years' called back the dead and all that had been his. I put my arms about his - neck and was near crying out with joy.
'Then I stole up to the house and looked in at a window. There sat father, at a table, reading his paper; and a little girl was on her knees by mother saying her prayers. He stopped a moment, covering his eyes with his handkerchief.
'That was Hope,'I whispered.
'That was Hope,'he went on. 'All the king's oxen could not have dragged me out of Faraway then. Late at night I went off into the woods. The old dog followed to stay with me until he died.
If it had not been for him I should have been hopeless. I had with me enough to eat for a time. We found a cave in a big ledge over back of Bull Pond. Its mouth was covered with briars. It had a big room and a stream of cold water trickling through a crevice. I made it my home and a fine place it was - cool in summer and warm in winter. I caught a cub panther that fall and a baby coon.
They grew up with me there and were the only friends I had after Bony, except Uncle Eb.
'Uncle Eb!'I exclaimed.
'You know how I met him,'he continued. 'Well, he won my confidence. I told him my history. I came into the clearing almost every night. Met him often. He tried to persuade me to come back to my people, but I could not do it. I was insane; I feared something - I did not know what. Sometimes I doubted even my own identity. Many a summer night I sat talking for hours, with Uncle Eb, at the foot of Lone Pine. O, he was like a father to me! God knows what I should have done without him.
Well, I stuck to my life, or rather to my death, O - there in the woods - getting fish out of the brooks and game out of the forest, and milk out of the cows in the pasture. Sometimes I went through the woods to the store at Tifton for flour and pork. One night Uncle Eb told me if I would go out among men to try my hand at some sort of business he would start me with a thousand dollars.
Well, I did - it. I had also a hundred dollars of my own. I came through the woods afoot. Bought fashionable clothing at Utica, and came to the big city' you know the rest. Among men my fear has left me, so I wonder at it. I am a debtor to love - the love of Uncle Eb and that of a noble woman I shall soon marry. It has made me whole and brought me back to my own people.
'And everybody knew he was innocent the day after he left,'said David.
'Three cheers for Uncle Eb!'I demanded.
And we gave them.
'1 declare!'said he. 'In all my born days never see sech fun. It's tree-menjious! I tell ye. Them 'et takes care uv others ll be took care uv - 'less they do it o'purpose.
And when the rest of us had gone to bed Uncle Eb sat awhile by the fire with David. Late at night he came upstairs with his candle.
He came over to my bed on tiptoe to see if I were awake, holding the candle above my head. I was worn out and did not open my eyes. He sat down snickering.
'Tell ye one thing, Dave Brower,'he whispered to himself as he drew off his boots, 'when some folks calls ye a fool 's a purty good sign ye ain't.
