However, what rankled in the brain of Barclugh was the collection of so much real contentment and the enjoyment of much comfort and plenty in the wilderness in so short a time. Whence had it sprung? Could one man accomplish much in so short a period? Barclugh could not restrain his anxiety for enlightenment. He began to ask questions:
“How have you built such a fine home in so short a time, Mr. Andrews?” were the words addressed to the settler, who sat smoking his pipe, while the two older children hung around their father, gazing at the stranger from behind their father’s chair.
“Wal, it’s ben pritty hard work, but you see we’ve ben pritty lucky. When we fust came on the land, nigh on to two year ago, our neighbors,—”
“What, have you neighbors, Mr. Andrews?” interjected Barclugh.
“Wal, a few, sir. After we got on to the land, as I was sayin’, four of them came with their oxen and axes, and in two days we hed this here house put up and the floor hewed and the chimney built and then in the fall they came agin, but more on ’em, and we hed a barn-raisin’ and daddy was here and we hed a rip-roarin’ old time with that barrel of cider that I kept over and that five gallon of rum that daddy brought from taown.”
“But didn’t it cost you anything to do all of this?” was the inquiry of Barclugh, as he sat listening in amazement.
“Nary a farthing, ’cept the cider the boys had and the grub. But that summer I hed raised lots of ’taters and a good piece of corn and a piece of wheat in the clearance, the milk of the cows kept the sow goin’ and the chickens gave us lots of eggs. Nancy here” (who stopped and smiled at the mention of her name) “raised all those chickens,—but the first winter I hed a close shave on the cattle and horses, but I kinder looked ahead for that and the spring before I found a nat’ral medder down the river and I mowed abaout six acres of r’al good hay and stacked it up for caow feed. That was mighty lucky, for thet winter was hard and browsing was short in the woods for the cattle and the horses.”
“Oh, do you let your stock run loose in the winter, Mr. Andrews?” was the next interrogation.
“Why, sir, them old pelters of horses will find a bit o’ grass if it’s kivered six inches in snow, and two mile away. They’ll paw right through a crust of snow for a bite of nat’ral grass. But I keep them up at night and feed ’em in the stable. Cattle and horses do better to run out when the weather isn’t too cold.”
“But tell me, Mr. Andrews, how do you raise crops among those stumps?” was the question from Barclugh’s puzzled mind that broke the serenity of his amazement.