While the whole family at Edmund Griffin’s were spending an evening in playing “blind man’s buff” in the great kitchen, the old grandfather looking on and enjoying the sport as much as the rest, Joe, his face bathed in tears, came to announce that Uncle Isaac was dreadfully hurt, and could not live.
“How did it happen?” inquired the grandfather, the first to recover from the effect produced by these sad tidings.
“You know what a hand Uncle Isaac always was to work alone. He went into the woods to haul a large log, laid a skid, one end on the ground, the other on a stump, calculating to roll the log up with the cattle, so as to run the wheels under. He’s got a yoke of cattle that will do anything he tells them to. He stood behind the log, and spoke to the cattle, calculating to trig the log when it was up; but the chain broke, and the log came back on him.”
“How did they know about it?” asked Edmund.
“He spoke to the cattle, threw chips at them, and started them home with a part of the chain hanging to them; his wife knew something was wrong, got some of the neighbors to go, and they brought him home.”
“He’s a very strong man; he may get over it.”
“No, he can’t, father; both legs are broken, and he’s hurt otherways; the doctor says he can’t, though he may live some time. I must go, for I’m going to watch with him to-night.”
“Tell ‘em, Joe, to send here, night or day; anything that we can do, it will be a privilege to do it.”
As is the case when people feel deeply, little was said, and one after another silently slipped off to bed. As soon as Lion Ben and Sally heard of it, they came over and stopped at Captain Rhines’s. Ben, his father, and Joe Griffin gave up everything to take care of and watch with Uncle Isaac; for although the whole neighborhood offered and pressed their services, he preferred that they should take care of him. For some days he suffered intense pain, and was at times delirious; but as death approached, the pain subsided, his mind became perfectly clear, and the same hearty, kindly interest in the young that had ever been a prominent trait of his character, resumed its wonted sway. A few days before his death, he sent for John Rhines, Charlie, Fred Williams, Walter, and Ned, preferring, as he was not able to talk with each one separately, to see them together.