d
left him. He lay with his head between his paws on the bed of grass just
as I had seen him lie many a time when his legs were weary with travel
on Paradise Road, and when his days were yet full of pleasure. We called
to him and Uncle Eb knelt and touched his head. Then he lifted the dog's
nose, looked a moment into the sightless eyes and let it fall again.

'Fred's gone,' said he in a low tone as he turned away. 'Got there ahead
uv us, Willy.'

Hope and I sat down by the old dog and wept bitterly.

Chapter 10

Uncle Eb was a born lover of fun. But he had a solemn way of fishing
that was no credit to a cheerful man. It was the same when he played
the bass viol, but that was also a kind of fishing at which he tried his
luck in a roaring torrent of sound. Both forms of dissipation gave him
a serious look and manner, that came near severity. They brought on
his face only the light of hope and anticipation or the shadow of
disappointment.

We had finished our stent early the day of which lam writing. When we
had dug our worms and were on our way to the brook with pole and line a
squint of elation had hold of Uncle Eb's face. Long wrinkles deepened as
he looked into the sky for a sign of the weather, and then relaxed a
bit as he turned his eyes upon the smooth sward. It was no time for idle
talk. We tiptoed over the leafy carpet of the woods. Soon as I spoke he
lifted his hand with a warning 'Sh--h!' The murmur of the stream was in
our ears. Kneeling on a mossy knoll we baited the hooks; then Uncle Eb
beckoned to me.

I came to him on tiptoe.

'See thet there foam 'long side o' the big log?' he whispered, pointing
with his finger.

I nodded.

'Cre-e-ep up jest as ca-a-areful as ye can,' he went on whispering.
'Drop in a leetle above an' let 'er float down.'

Then he went on, below me, lifting his feet in slow and stealthy
strides.

He halted by a bit of driftwood and cautiously threw in, his arm
extended, his figure alert. The squint on his face took a firmer grip.
Suddenly his pole gave a leap, the water splashed, his line sang in
the air and a fish went up like a rocket. As we were looking into the
treetops it thumped the shore beside him, quivered a moment and flopped
down the bank He scrambled after it and went to his knees in the brook
coming up empty-handed. The water was slopping out of his boot legs.

'Whew!' said he, panting with excitement, as I came over to him.
'Reg'lar ol' he one,' he added