“Ouch! O!—O!—O! oo—oo—my sore toe! My sore toe!” and away from the table and through the door hopped Cicero Tolson on one foot, carrying the other injured member in his hands. In an unguarded moment his mischievous brother had reached his foot under the table and come down heavily with his heel on the already bruised and sore toe of Cicero, hence the catastrophe.
“I’m mighty sorry that my two boys have disturbed you so, while you are atryin’ to make out your supper, Mister Waffington,” Mrs. Tolson said, after she had sent the other boy from the table. “But try to make out some way, an’ git enough if you can to keep you frum starvin’ ’til mornin’. I hope you’ll forgive ’em. I do hope that you will. Maybe that you’ll enjoy your sleepin’ better than your eatin’ here at our house. You’ll have to sleep ’tween Cicero an’ Cæsar—but then they’re better asleep than they air whin they’re awake.”
Paul Waffington had not been disturbed by the bad deportment of Cicero and Cæsar Tolson. On the other hand, he went to his bed in the corner of the cabin that night with a Contented mind and a rested body.
For a moment he stood over the bed holding the candle, and looked down upon the faces of the two sleeping boys. He shook his head as he looked into the ruddy faces, and wondered, if in future years they should not go forth from this mountain gorge with robust bodies and great, strong minds, and employ their talents in wielding a mighty influence to promote the brotherhood of man. Thus speculating he blew out the candle, turned down the cover, and slipped into his place between the two, and was soon asleep.
CHAPTER VII
Boaz Honeycutt
Paul Waffington awoke with the birds on the following morning. He came out from between the two sleeping boys and the snowy white sheets at the break of day, went out and bathed his face in the running stream. He rambled through the clumps of rhododendrons and ivy, picking the flowers, while Henry Tolson fed the mare and Mrs. Tolson made ready the morning’s meal.
While the morning was yet early he put out his hand and said good-bye to the little family, believing that he had found friends in Henry Tolson and his dear old wife. It was a fact that was plain to see, that they were poor and unlearned. But throughout the cabin there was cleanliness, and in everything they said and did there was gentleness and truth. There was something about the kind look and gentle spirit of Mrs. Tolson that made Paul Waffington think of his own dear mother away back in the Kentucky valley. The good that was in him asserted itself, and he held out his hand and said from the bottom of his heart:
“Good-bye, Mrs. Tolson. I hope that we may meet again. May the good Lord bless you and yours. Good-bye.”
“Why, honey, whenever you air a-travelin’ up or down this here gorge, night or day, don’t you never pass this cabin door by. Don’t you never do it. You come right over here an’ make yourself at home. An’ don’t you never holler ’fore this door any more neither. But you march right over here and take a chair, jist the same ef your own mother wuz astandin’ right there inside. Here, take this sweetcake along with you. You might git a little hungry along ’bout the spring up the gorge, an’ it’d keep you frum starvin’ maybe. You’ll git to Blood Camp ’fore night. Good-bye.”
He swung himself out into the road and walked along at a lively gait. Just as he made the first turn out of sight of the cabin, if he should have been disposed to stop and listen, he might have heard Mrs. Tolson fulfilling her promise of the night before to Cicero and Cæsar.