“‘What you needs,’ sais he, ‘is to go out an’ look at the moon.’
“Before that I’d never thot o’ the moon ’cept ez a kind o’ lantern to hunt coons by. But ’hen I tuk his adwice, an’ lit me pipe, an’ went out an’ set on the pump trough, watchin’ the ole felly come climbin’ over the ridges, all yeller an’ smilin’ an’ friendly, I seen he hed a new uset. Whatever it was I’d ben sufferin’ from kind o’ passed away an’ left me ca’m an’ peaceful. Me brain seemed like a pool o’ wotter in a wood, all still-like, ’cept fer a few ripples o’ idees on the surface. How long I set there I don’t know. I might ’a’ ben there all night hed the ole man not called me een.
“The first thing I seen ez I went into the house, was Major crouchin’ be the fire watchin’ it wery intent. His supper lay beside him. Not a bone hed ben teched.
“‘Whatever it is,’ sais I, ‘it’s ketchin’.’
“They was nawthin’ doin’ ’round the house next day after breakfast, so I minded that Pap hedn’t a walkin’-stick. I concided I’d mosey up to the chestnut flats an’ cut me a staff fer the ole man. Major went along, an’ we got a petickler nice piece o’ kinnykinnick wood. On the road home we happened to pass be Horner’s clearin’. Ez we was opposite the house I heard some un a-choppin’ an’ seen the chips flyin’ up over the hedge. Feelin’ kind o’ thirsty I stopped een to git a drink o’ wotter. There she was a-splittin’ firewood. ’Hen I explained, she pinted out the spring an’ went on with her work. Ye might ’a’ s’posed we was unly two coon dogs hed dropped een fer a call, she was so cool. But I wasn’t fer goin’ tell I’d at least passed the time a day, so I fixed meself on a block o’ oak with Major beside me.
“‘What are ye doin’?’ I asts, be way o’ openin’ up.
“‘It doesn’t look like ez tho’ I was knittin’, does it?’ she sais kind o’ sharp.
“With that she drove the axe th’oo a stick o’ hickory ez big ’round ez my body. It was all I could git outen her. So me an’ Major jest set there watchin’ quiet-like. It was amazin’ the way she could chop wood—amazin’—an’ I enjoyed it most a mighty well. The axe ’ud swish th’oo the air over her head; down it ’ud come on the lawg, straight an’ true; out ’ud fly a th’ee-cornered chip ez neat ez ef it hed ben sawed. She never looked one way nor the other, nor paid no attention, but kep’ a-pilin’ up firewood tell they was enough to last a week. Then she stuck the axe in the choppin’ block and walked inter the house. Me an’ Major moved on.
“That night I couldn’t git no sleep. The ole trouble come on agin, an’ I went out an’ looked at the moon tell final I dozed off in the pump-trough. ’Hen I woke next mornin’ I knowd what was wrong. I knowd that what I hed was somethin’ I’d be better without, yit hed I to do it over agin I wouldn’t hev awoided it. I knowd I could cut all the saplin’s offen the chestnut flats an’ I wouldn’t git no ease. ’Hen I went over the ridge that day I didn’t try to fool meself cuttin’ staffs. No sir. I walked straight fer the clearin’. Ez I come near the house I whistled pretty loud to give warnin’. At the gate I looked een. No one was ’round. I thot to meself she was in the house, so I whistled louder. Major seemed to understand too, an’ begin barkin’ to beat all. But it hedn’t no effect. That kind o’ made me feel down like an’ me heart weighed wery heavy ez I set on the stoop to wait fer her. All o’ a sudden I hear a rat-tat-tat comin’ from the barn. There she was on the roof, a-nailin’ shingles. I walked down an’ looked up at her.