"What on earth does all that mean?" thought the female portion of the family. The farmer and his boys were not at home at the time. Nothing was said, however.
Again Uncle Mike drove over to the mill; again he put on a load of timber; again he threw it off near the site of the old barn. Three loads were discharged there, and then he directed his men to go home with the team. He himself went to one of his neighbors, and asked him if he had any timber of any kind already sawed at Squire Murdock's mill.
"Yes," was the answer, "a little; why?"
"Well, I want some of it, if it's the right kind. What is it?"
"I don't recollect exactly—some white oak joists, I guess, and some inch boards."
"Good. Just what I want."
Suffice it to say, that Mike Marble did not leave his neighbor before he got a promise from him that he would contribute a load or two of his timber to rebuild that barn. Then he went to another neighbor, and another, and did something like the same errand, with very much the same sort of success. He called on a boss carpenter, too, and secured his services in framing the barn; and, on his way home, he stopped at Slocum's blacksmith's shop, and got the promise of some nails.
Well, it was not long before the neighbors were all called together to raise Deacon Metcalf's barn, and it was not long after that before the building was ready for use. And how much do you think it cost him? Not a cent—not a single cent, the neighbors managed the thing so well. Even the good things on the supper table, when they had their "raising bee," were sent in by the neighbors.
And the whole scheme, you see, came from the crotchety brain of our friend, Mike Marble. That was his way of building a neighbor's barn, when any help was needed for that purpose.