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Uncle Eb skimmed the boiling sap, put more wood on the fire and
came and pulled off his boots and lay down beside me under the
robe. And, hearing the boil of the sap and the crackle of the
burning logs in the arch, I soon went asleep.
I remember feeling Uncle Eb's hand upon my cheek, and how I
rose and stared about me in the fading shadows of a dream as he
shook me gently.
'Wake up, my boy,' said he. 'Come, we mus' put fer home.'
The fire was out. The old man held a lantern as he stood before
me, the blaze flickering. There was a fearsome darkness all
around.
'Come, Willy, make haste,' he whispered, as I rubbed my eyes. 'Put
on yer boots, an' here's yer little coat 'n' muffler.'
There was a mighty roar in the forest and icy puffs of snow came
whistling in upon us. We stored the robes and pails and buckets
and covered the big kettle.
The lofty tree-tops reeled and creaked above us, and a deep,
sonorous moan was sweeping through the woods, as if the fingers
of the wind had touched a mighty harp string in the timber.


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