“Heard that no more trains can get through,” one man remarked.
“Ed Allen’s prize sheep ran into the lake and were carried away,” said another.
“Something frightened them.”
“The lower end of Canada is in a bad way. The border men asked for all the milk they could get, even if it’s sour.”
“Expect we better do some sort of organizing and see what we have,” another proposed. “Let’s talk it over with Fenton.” The boys moved on and sat down against the shed.
“Say Jim, know what this makes me think of, these people I mean?”
“Makes me think of so much, I’m getting brain-storm,” Jim answered, but his tone was sober.
“The history we read—these Vermonters. Those Allen boys. Did you know the two towns, North Hero and South Hero are given those names because of the brothers, and a lot of their original tract of land is still in the families’ possession?”
“I heard your mother say so. They were a great gang.”
“Sure were. Well, I was thinking how these people, some of them members of those old families, still stand shoulder to shoulder. Of course most folks are pretty decent when neighbors are in trouble, but here they are also quiet and sure of each other. No wonder they are considered a fine lot. A couple of hundred years ago just a handful of them bucked against the hardships and won out. Now, Uncle Norman and Aunt Belle are facing ruin maybe, but they are right with their neighbors, ready to share everything they have as long as they have it—you see what I mean—it’s a great spirit, I think.”