eben holden-第8章

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　abroad；　so　they　have　much　to　tell　worth　hearing　after　a　journey。　The　little　traveller　was　young　and　had　no　fear；　so　he　left　the　road　and　went　down　to　the　pit　and　peeped　over　the　side　of　it。

'What　in　the　world　is　the　meaning　of　this　queer　place？'　he　asked　himself　as　he　ran　around　the　rim。　In　a　moment　he　had　stepped　over　and　the　soft　sand　began　to　cave　and　slide　beneath　him。　Ouick　as　a　flash　the　big　lion…beetle　rose　up　in　the　centre　of　the　pit　and　began　to　reach　for　him。　Then　his　legs　flew　in　the　caving　sand　and　the　young　ant　struck　his　blades　in　it　to　hold　the　little　he　could　gain。　Upward　he　struggled；　leaping　and　floundering　in　the　dust。　He　had　got　near　the　rim　and　had　stopped；　clinging　to　get　his　breath；　when　the　lion　began　flinging　the　sand　at　him　with　his　long　feelers。　It　rose　in　a　cloud　and　fell　on　the　back　of　the　ant　and　pulled　at　him　as　it　swept　down。　He　could　feel　the　mighty　cleavers　of　the　lion　striking　near　his　hind　legs　and　pulling　the　sand　from　under　them。　He　must　go　down　m　a　moment　and　he　knew　what　that　meant。　He　had　heard　the　old　men　of　the　tribe　tell　often　…　how　they　hold　one　helpless　and　slash　him　into　a　dozen　pieces。　He　was　letting　go；　in　despair；　when　he　felt　a　hand　on　his　neck。　Looking　up　he　saw　one　of　his　own　people　reaching　over　the　rim；　and　in　a　jiffy　they　had　shut　their　fangs　together。　He　moved　little　by　little　as　the　other　tagged　at　him；　and　in　a　moment　was　out　of　the　trap　and　could　feel　the　honest　earth　under　him。　When　they　had　got　home　and　told　their　adventure；　some　were　for　going　to　slay　the　beetle。

'There　is　never　a　pit　in　the　path　o'　duty；'　said　the　wise　old　chief　of　the　little　black　folks。　'See　that　you　keep　in　the　straight　road。'

'If　our　brother　had　not　left　the　straight　road；'　said　one　who　stood　near；　'he　that　was　in　danger　would　have　gone　down　into　the　pit。'

'It　matters　much；'　he　answered；　'whether　it　was　kindness　or　curiosity　that　led　him　out　of　the　road。　But　he　that　follows　a　fool　hath　much　need　of　wisdom；　for　if　he　save　the　fool　do　ye　not　see　that　he　hath　encouraged　folly？'

Of　course　I　had　then　no　proper　understanding　of　the　chiefs　counsel；　nor　do　I　pretend　even　to　remember　it　from　that　first　telling；　but　the　tale　was　told　frequently　in　the　course　of　my　long　acquaintance　with　Uncle　Eb。

The　diary　of　my　good　old　friend　lies　before　me　as　I　write；　the　leaves　turned　yellow　and　the　entries　dim。　I　remember　how　stern　he　grew　of　an　evening　when　he　took　out　this　sacred　little　record　of　our　wanderings　and　began　to　write　in　it　with　his　stub　of　a　pencil。　He　wrote　slowly　and　read　and　reread　each　entry　with　great　care　as　I　held　the　torch　for　him。　'Be　still；　boy　…　be　still；'　he　would　say　when　some　pressing　interrogatory　passed　my　lips；　and　then　he　would　bend　to　his　work　while　the　point　of　his　pencil　bored　further　into　my　patience。　Beginning　here　I　shall　quote　a　few　entries　from　the　diary　as　they　cover；　with　sufficient　detail；　an　uneventful　period　of　our　journey。

AUGUST　20　　Killed　a　partridge　today。　Biled　it　in　the　teapot　for　dinner。　Went　good。　14　mild。

AUGUST　21　Seen　a　deer　this　morning。　Fred　fit　ag'in。　Come　near　spilin'　the　wagon。　Hed　to　stop　and　fix　the　ex。　10　mild。

AUGUST　22　Clumb　a　tree　this　morning　after　wild　grapes。　Come　near　falling。　Gin　me　a　little　crickin　the　back。　Willie　hes　got　a　stun　bruze。　12　mild。

AUGUST　23　Went　in　swinmun。　Ketched　a　few　fish　before　breaklus'。　Got　provisions　an'　two　case　knives　an'　one　fork；　also　one　tin　pie…plate。　Used　same　to　fry　fish　for　dinner。　14　mild。

AUGUST　24　Got　some　spirits　for　Willie　to　rub　on　my　back。　Boots　wearing　out。　Terrible　hot。　Lay　in　the　shade　in　the　heat　of　the　day。　Gypsies　come　an'　camped　by　us　tonight。　10　mild。

I　remember　well　the　coming　of　those　gypsies。　We　were　fishing　in　sight　of　the　road　and　our　fire　was　crackling　on　the　smooth　cropped　shore。　The　big　wagons　of　the　gypsies　…　there　were　four　of　them　as　red　and　beautiful　as　those　of　a　circus　caravan　…　halted　about　sundown　while　the　men　came　over　a　moment　to　scan'the　field。　Presently　they　went　back　and　turned　their　wagons　into　the　siding　and　began　to　unhitch。　Then　a　lot　of　barefooted　children；　and　women　under　gay　shawls；　overran　the　field　gathering　wood　and　making　ready　for　night。　Meanwhile　swarthy　drivers　took　the　horses　to　water　and　tethered　them　with　long　ropes　so　they　could　crop　the　grass　of　the　roadside。

One　tall；　bony　man；　with　a　face　almost　as　black　as　that　of　an　Indian；　brought　a　big　iron　pot　and　set　it　up　near　the　water。　A　big　stew　of　beef　bone；　leeks　and　potatoes　began　to　cook　shortly；　and　I　remember　it　had　such　a　goodly　smell　I　was　minded　to　ask　them　for　a　taste　of　it。　A　little　city　of　strange　people　had　surrounded　us　of　a　sudden。　Uncle　Eb　thought　of　going　on；　but　the　night　was　coming　fast　and　there　would　be　no　moon　and　we　were　footsore　and　hungry。　Women　and　children　came　over　to　our　fire；　after　supper；　and　made　more　of　me　than　I　liked。　I　remember　taking　refuge　between　the　knees　of　Uncle　Eb；　and　Fred　sat　close　in　front　of　us　growling　fiercely　when　they　came　too　near。　They　stood　about；　looking　down　at　us　and　whispered　together；　and　one　young　miss　of　the　tribe　came　up　and　tried　to　kiss　me　in　spite　of　Fred's　warnings：　She　had　flashing　black　eyes　and　hair　as　dark　as　the　night；　that　fell　in　a　curling　mass　upon　her　shoulders；　but；　somehow；　I　had　a　mighty　fear　of　her　and　fought　with　desperation　to　keep　my　face　from　the　touch　of　her　red　lips。　Uncle　Eb　laughed　and　held　Fred　by　the　collar；　and　I　began　to　cry　out　in　terror；　presently；　when；　to　my　great　relief；　she　let　go　and　ran　away　to　her　own　people。　They　all　went　away　to　their　wagons；　save　one　young　man；　who　was　tall　with　light　hair　and　a　fair　skin；　and　who　looked　like　none　of　the　other　gypsies。

'Take　care　of　yourself；'　he　whispered；　as　soon　as　the　rest　had　gone。　'These　are　bad　people。　You'd　better　be　off'

The　young　man　left　us　and　Uncle　Eb　began　to　pack　up　at　once。　They　were　going　to　bed　in　their　wagons　when　we　came　away。　I　stood　in　the　basket　and　Fred　drew　the　wagon　that　had　in　it　only　a　few　bundles。　A　mile　or　more　finther　on　we　came　to　a　lonely；　deserted　cabin　close　to　the　road。　It　had　began　to　thunder　in　the　distance　and　the　wind　was　blowing　damp。

'Guess　nobody　lives　here；'　said　Uncle　Eb　as　he　turned　in　at　the　sagging　gate　and　began　to　cross　the　little　patch　of　weeds　and　hollyhocks　behind　it　'Door's　half　down；　but　I　guess　it'll　de　beeter'n　no　house。　Goin'　t'　rain　sartin。'

I　was　nodding　a　little　about　then；　I　remember；　but　I　was　wide　awake　when　he　took　me　out　of　the　basket　The　old　house　stood　on　a　high　hill；　and　we　could　see　the　stars　of　heaven　through　the　ruined　door　and　one　of　the　back　windows。　Uncle　Eb　lifted　the　leaning　door　a　little　and　shoved　it　aside。　We　heard　then　a　quick　stir　in　the　old　house　…　a　loud　and　ghostly　rattle　it　seems　now　as　I　think　of　it　…　like　that　made　by　linen　shaking　on　the　line。　Uncle　Eb　took　a　step　backward　as　if　it　had　startled　him。

'Guess　it's　nuthin'　to　be　'fraid　of；'　he　said；　feeling　in　the　pet　of　his　coat　He　had　struck　a　match　in　a　moment。　By　its　flickering　light　I　could　see　only　a　bit　of　rubbish　on　the　floor。

'Full　o'　white　owls；'　said　he；　stepping　inside；　where　the　rustling　was　now　continuous。　'They'll　do　us　no　harm。'

I　could　see　them　now　flying　about　under　the　low　ceiling。　Uncle　Eb　gathered　an　gathered　an　armful　of　grass　and　clover；　in　the　near　field；　and　spread　it　in　a　corner　well　away　from　the　ruined　door　and　windows。　Covered　with　our　blanket　it　made　a　fairly　comfortable　bed。　Soon　as　we　had　lain　down；　the　rain　began　to　rattle　on　the　shaky　roof　and　flashes　of　lightning　lit　every　comer　of　the　old　room。

I　have　had；　ever；　a　curious　love　of　storms；　and；　from　the　time　when　memory　began　its　record　in　my　brain；　it　has　delighted　me　to　hear　at　night　the　roar　of　thunder　and　see　the　swift　play　of　the　lightning。　I　lay　between　Uncle　Eb　and　the　old　dog；　who　both　went　asleep　shortly。　Less　wearied　I　presume　than　either　of　them；　for　I　had　done　none　of　the　carrying；　and　had　slept　along　time　that　day　in　the　shade　of　a　tree；　I　was　awake　an　hour　or　more　after　they　were　snoring。　Every　flash　lit　the　old　room　like　the　full　glare　of　the　noonday　sun。　I　remember　it　showed　me　an　old　cradle；　piled　full　of　rubbish；　a　rusty　scythe　hung　in　the　rotting　sash　of　a　window；　a　few　lengths　of　stove