ng。
We had been asleep a long time when the barking of Fred woke us。 I could just see Uncle Eb in the dim light of the fire； kneeling beside me； the rifle in his hand。
'I'll fill ye full o' lead if ye come any nearer；' he shouted。
Chapter 4
We listened awhile then but heard no sound in the thicket； although Fred was growling ominously； his hair on end。 As for myself I never had a more fearful hour than that we suffered before the light of morning came。
I made no outcry； but clung to my old companion； trembling。 He did not stir for a few minutes； and then we crept cautiously into the small hemlocks on one side of the opening。
'Keep still；' he whispered； 'don't move er speak。'
Presently we heard a move in the brush and then quick as a flash Uncle Eb lifted his rifle and fired in the direction of it Before the loud echo had gone off in the woods we heard something break through the brush at a run。
''S a man；' said Uncle Eb； as he listened。 'He ain't a losin' no time nuther。'
We sat listening as the sound grew fainter； and when it ceased entirely Uncle Eb said he must have got to the road。 After a little the light of the morning began sifting down through the tree…tops and was greeted with innumerable songs。
'He done noble；' said Uncle Eb； patting the old dog as he rose to poke the fire。 'Putty good chap I call 'im！ He can hev half o' my dinner any time he wants it。'
'Who do you suppose it was？' I enquired。
'Robbers； I guess；' he answered； 'an' they'll be layin' fer us when we go out； mebbe； but； if they are； Fred'll frnd 'em an' I've got Ol' Trusty here 'n' I guess thet'll take care uv us。'
His rifle was always flattered with that name of Ol' Trusty when it had done him a good turn。
Soon as the light had come clear he went out in the near woods with dog and rifle and beat around in the brush。 He returned shortly and said he had seen where they came and went。
'I'd a killed em deader 'n a door nail；' said he； laying down the old rifle； 'if they'd a come any nearer。'
Then we brought water from the river and had our breakfast。 Fred went on ahead of us； when we started for the road； scurrying through the brush on both sides of the trail； as if he knew what was expected of him。 He flushed a number of partridges and Uncle Eb killed one of them on our way to the road。 We resumed our journey without any further adventure。 It was so smooth and level under foot that Uncle Eb let me get in the wagon after Fred was hitched to it The old dog went along soberly and without much effort； save when we came to hills or sandy places； when I always got out and ran on behind。 Uncle Eb showed me how to brake the wheels with a long stick going downhill。 I remember how it hit the dog's heels at the first down grade； and how he ran to keep out of the way of it We were going like mad in half a minute； Uncle Eb coming after us calling to the dog。 Fred only looked over his shoulder； with a wild eye； at the rattling wagon and ran the harder。 He leaped aside at the bottom and then we went all in a heap。 Fortunately no harm was done。
'I declare！' said Uncle Eb as he came up to us； puffing like a spent horse； and picked me up unhurt and began to untangle the harness of old Fred； 'I guess he must a thought the devil was after him。'
The dog growled a little for a moment and bit at the harness； but coaxing reassured him and he went along all right again on the level。 At a small settlement the children came out and ran along beside my wagon； laughing and asking me questions。 Some of them tried to pet the dog； but old Fred kept to his labour at the heels of Uncle Eb and looked neither to right nor left。 We stopped under a tree by the side of a narrow brook for our dinner； and one incident of that meal I think of always when I think of Uncle Eb。 It shows the manner of man he was and with what understanding and sympathy he regarded every living thing。 In rinsing his teapot he accidentally poured a bit of water on a big bumble…bee。 The poor creature struggled to lift hill； and then another downpour caught him and still another until his wings fell drenched。 Then his breast began heaving violently； his legs stiffened behind him and he sank； head downward； in the grass。 Uncle Eb saw the death throes of the bee and knelt down and lifted the dead body by one of its wings。
'Jes' look at his velvet coat；' he said； 'an' his wings all wet n' stiff。
They'll never carry him another journey。 It's too bad a man has t' kill every step he takes。'
The bee's tail was moving faintly and Uncle Eb laid him out in the warm sunlight and fanned him awhile with his hat； trying to bring back the breath of life。
'Guilty！' he said； presently； coming back with a sober face。 'Thet's a dead bee。 No tellin' how many was dependent on him er what plans he bed。 Must a gi'n him a lot o' pleasure t' fly round in the sunlight； workin' every fair day。 'S all over now。'
He had a gloomy face for an hour after that and many a time； in the days that followed； I heard him speak of the murdered bee。
We lay resting awhile after dinner and watching a big city of ants。 Uncle Eb told me how they tilled the soil of the mound every year and sowed their own kind of grain … a small white seed like rice … and reaped their harvest in the late surnmer； storing the crop in their dry cellars under ground。 He told me also the story of the ant lion … a big beetle that lives in the jungles of the grain and the grass … of which I remember only an outline； more or less imperfect。
Here it is in my own rewording of his tale： On a bright day one of the little black folks went off on a long road in a great field of barley。 He was going to another city of his own people to bring helpers for the harvest。 He came shortly to a sandy place where the barley was thin and the hot sunlight lay near to the ground。 In a little valley close by the road of the ants he saw a deep pit； in the sand； with steep sides sloping to a point in the middle and as big around as a biscuit。 Now the ants are a curious people and go looking for things that are new and wonderful as they walk 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 maki