“I wish he would let you go,” said Clinton. “I’d show you all our tools, and how to use them, too.”
Night was fast drawing on, and the boys had now reached the house, where they found Uncle Tim and Mr. Davenport talking about the elections. There was in the room an article of furniture called a settle, a bench large enough for three or four to sit upon, with a high back, and arms to lean upon at each end. Clinton did not notice this particularly as it stood in the back part of the room; but when the boys moved it up to the fire, and all three seated themselves upon it, he was much pleased with it.
“Father,” he said, during a pause in the conversation, “I wish we had one of these seats—don’t you suppose I could make one?”
“I think very likely you could,” replied Mr. Davenport.
“I mean to try, when I get home,” added Clinton, and he examined it still more carefully, to see how it was constructed.
“That settle was my grand-father’s, Master Clinton,” said Uncle Tim, “and you must see if you can’t make one that will last as long as that has—then your grand-children will have something to remember you by.”
“I’ll try,” said Clinton, with a laugh.
“‘I’ll try’—those are good words, my boy,” said Uncle Tim. “That’s what Col. Miller said, when Gen. Brown asked him if he could carry Queenstown Heights. ‘I’ll try,’ said he, and sure enough he did try, and gained a splendid victory, and Congress gave him a gold medal, with ‘I’ll try’ engraved on it. So you stick to that motto, Master Clinton, and I guess your grand-children will have a settle to remember you by—don’t you think so?”
Clinton laughed, and seeing Uncle Tim was in so pleasant a mood, he asked him if he wouldn’t let Jim go over to see him, some time. Jim, finding the ground was broken, lost no time in putting in a word for himself; and as Mr. Davenport said he should like to have the boys visit Clinton, Uncle Tim gave a sort of half promise that Jim should go, some time when he could spare him.
The rest of the evening was spent in listening to Uncle Tim’s stories of his early life in the woods. He related many interesting accounts of his adventures with bears and wolves, and other savage animals, which were then more numerous than now. One of his anecdotes, which greatly amused Clinton, was as follows:—