CHAPTER V
BURNS RETURNS
When Peter Brant was laid away under a tree not far from the cabin where he had ended his days Ernest felt that he was at liberty to begin the new life that lay before him. Despite the natural sadness which he felt at parting with his old friend, he looked forward not without pleasant anticipations to the future and what it might have in store for him.
Oak Forks had few attractions for him. He had a literary taste, but could not get books. Peter Brant had about a dozen volumes, none of which he had read himself, but Ernest had read them over and over again. None of the neighbors owned any books. Occasionally a newspaper found its way into the settlement, and this, when it came into Ernest’s hands, was read, advertisements and all.
How, then, was his time passed? Partly in hunting, partly in fishing—for there was a small river two miles away—but one could not fish or hunt all the time. He had often felt a vague yearning to go to Chicago or New York, or anywhere where there would be a broader field and large opportunities, and he had broached the subject to Peter.
“I can’t afford to go, Ernest,” the old man would reply. “I must live on the little I have, for I am too old to work.”
“But I am young. I can work,” the boy would answer.
“A boy like you couldn’t earn much. Wait till I am dead, and then you can go where you like.”
This would always close the discussion, for Ernest did not like to consider such a possibility. Peter represented his world, for he had no one to cling to except the man whom he supposed to be his uncle.