se, sheep after
sheep hit him on head or back. Under he went again as often as he arose
until the whole herd were out of the pen.

This experience probably accounted for Uncle Joe's actions the day of
the baptism. Grouped on the banks of the creek, in fence corners, some
lying on the grass under the red haw trees, were the rabble--all there
out of curiosity.

Standing near the creek, chanting a familiar hymn as only an earnest
congregation of good people can sing, were the church members. Walking
slowly from the church was the preacher and Uncle Joe, the disparity in
their size all the more marked as they waded into the water.

Uncle Joe seemed ill at ease and it appeared as though he was sort of
holding back. By the time the minister was in up to his middle, the
water only flowed about Uncle Joe's knees. The little preacher paused,
folded Uncle Joe's hands across his breast. Uncle Joe looked behind him
as much as to say:

"It's a long ways down to the water."

The minister began the solemn baptismal service. At the last word he
attempted to lay Uncle Joe back, immersing him in the usual manner but
Uncle Joe resisted. Alfred said afterwards he "knowed Uncle Joe was
skeered, that Hickman couldn't rise him up after he got him under."
Alfred explained that it was hard to keep from strangling when you went
down backwards. "That's the way I nearly drowned. They ought to baptize
'em forward," was his conclusion.

The silence was oppressive. The minister sort of squirmed around and
began the service over. At the last word he made another effort to
immerse the sinner. Again his strength was insufficient, both men
jostled around.

Sam Craft, who was watching the proceeding from a fence corner, at the
failure of the second attempt to dip the penitent, drawled in a voice
thick with hard cider:

"Trip--him--Bill--dam--him--trip--him."

Uncle Joe quickly took hold of his nose with thumb and finger; stooping,
he put his face under water to his ears, left the preacher standing in
the creek as he rushed out, not to the church members but to his old
cronies, until led to his proper place among the congregation.

The conversion of Uncle Joe made Aunt Betsy happy. Alfred had liberties
he never enjoyed previously. He rode Billy, the pony, when and where he
chose. He ran rabbits, chased through the woods until the scant wardrobe
he brought from home was in rags and tatters.

The great Civil War had just begun. All the country