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DRIVEN BACK TO EDEN.

CHAPTER IV.

WORK FOR ALL.

By E. P. ROE.

My agonized shout as I saw Bobsey swept away by the swollen torrent of the Moodna Creek was followed closely by his own shrill scream. It so happened, or a kind Providence so ordered it, that Junior was farther down the stream, tapping a maple that had been overlooked the previous day. He sprang to his feet, whirled about in the direction of the little boy's cry, and, the next instant, rushed to the bank and plunged in.

Spell-bound I watched his efforts, for I knew I was much too far away to be of aid, and that all now depended on the hardy country lad. He disappeared for a second beneath the tide, and then his swift strokes proved that he was a good swimmer. Very quickly he caught up with Bobsey, for the current was too rapid to permit the child to sink. Then, with a wisdom learned from experience, he let the torrent carry him in a long slant toward the shore, for it would have been

hopeless to try to stem the current.

Running as I never ran before, I followed, reached the bank where there was an eddy in the stream, sprung in up to my waist, seized them both as they drifted near me, and dragged them to solid ground.

Bobsey was conscious, although he had swallowed some water, and I was soon able to restore him, so that he could stand on his feet and cry:

"I-I-I w-w-ont d-do so any-any more." Instead of punishing him, as he evidently expected, I clasped him to my heart with a nervous force that almost made him cry out with pain.

Junior, meanwhile, had coolly seated himself on a rock, emptied the water out of his shoes, and was tying them on again, at the same time striving with all his might to maintain a stolid composure under Winnie's grateful embraces and Merton's repeated hand-shakings. But when, having become assured of Bobsey's welfare, I also rushed forward and embraced Junior in a transport of gratitude, the boy's lip began to quiver, and two great tears mingled with the water that was dripping from his hair. Suddenly he broke away and ran swiftly toward his home, as if he had been caught in some mischief and the constable were after him.

I carried Bobsey home, and his mother, with many questions, and exclamations of thanksgiving, undressed the little fellow, wrapped him in flannel and put him to bed, where he was soon sleeping as quietly as if nothing had happened.

Mrs. Jones came over, and we made her rubicund face beam, and grow more round, if possible, as we all praised her boy. I returned with her, for I felt that I wished to thank Junior again and again. But he saw me coming and slipped out at the back door. Indeed, the brave, bashful boy was shy of us for several days. When at last my wife caught him, and began to praise and thank him in a manner natural to mothers, he made light of the whole affair.

"I've swum in that crick so often that it was nothin' to me. You only need to keep cool, and that 's easy enough in snow water, and the current was so swift it kep' us both up. I wish you would n't say anything more about it."

But junior soon learned that we had adopted him into our inmost hearts, although he compelled us to show our good-will after his own off-hand fashion.

On Sunday night the wind veered around to the north, and on Monday morning the sky had a clear metallic hue and the ground was frozen hard. Bobsey had not taken cold, and was his former self, except that he was somewhat chastened in spirit and his bump of caution was larger. I was resolved that this day should witness a good beginning of our spring work, and told Winnie and Bobsey that they could help me. Junior, although he yet avoided the house, was ready enough to help Merton in getting the sap. And so, soon after breakfast, we all were busy.

Around old country places, especially where there

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has been some degree of neglect, much litter and refuse gathers. This was true of our new home and its surroundings. All through the garden were dry, unsightly weeds; about the house was shrubbery that had become tangled masses of unpruned growth; in the orchard the ground was strewn with fallen branches, and I could see dead limbs on many of the trees. Therefore I said to my two little helpers:

"We will begin our brush-pile in this open space in the garden, and here we will bring all the rubbish that we wish to burn. You see that we can make an immense heap, for the place is so far away from any buildings that, when the wind goes down, we can set the pile on fire in safety, and the ashes will be good for the garden."

During the whole forenoon I pruned the shrubbery and raked up the rubbish, which the children carried by armfuls to our prospective bonfire. They were anxious to see the blaze, but I told them that the wind was too high, and that I did not propose to apply the match until we had a heap half as big as the house; that it might be several days before we should be ready, for I intended to have a tremendous fire.

For a long time they were pleased with the novelty of the work, and then they wanted to do something else, but I said:

"No, no; you are gardeners now, and I'm head gardener. Both of you must help me till dinner-time. After that you can do something else, or play if you choose; but each day, even Bobsey must do some steady work to earn his dinner. We did n't come to the country on a picnic, I can tell you. All must do their best to help make a living." And so I kept my little squad busy without scruple, for the work was light, although it had become monotonous.

Mousie sometimes aided her mother, and again watched us from the window with great interest. I rigged upon the barrow a rack, in which I wheeled the rubbish gathered at a distance; and by the time my wife's mellow voice called, "Come to dinner," we had raised a pile much higher than my head, and the place began to wear a tidy aspect.

Such appetites, such rosy cheeks, and such jolly red noses as the outdoor workers brought to that plain meal! Mousie was delighted with the promise that the bonfire should not be lighted until some still, mild day when she could go out and stand with me beside it.

Merton admitted that drawing the sap did not keep him busy more than half the time; so after dinner I gave him a hatchet, and told him to go on with the trimming-up of the fallen branches in our wood-lot, a task that I had begun,- and to

carry out all wood heavy enough for our fire-place to a spot where it could be loaded on a wagon.

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"Your next work, Merton, will be to collect all your refuse trimmings and the brush lying about, into a few great heaps; and by and by we 'll burn these, too, and gather up the ashes carefully, for I've read and heard all my life that there is nothing better for fruit than wood-ashes. Some day, I hope, we can begin to put money in the bank; for I intend to give all a chance to earn money for themselves, after they have done their share toward our general effort to live and thrive. The next best thing to putting money in the bank, is the gathering and saving of everything that will make the ground richer. In fact, all the papers

and books that I 've read this winter, agree that as the farmer's land grows rich he grows rich."

It must be remembered that I had spent all my leisure during the winter in reading and studying the problem of our country life. Therefore I knew that March was the best month for pruning trees, and I had gained a fairly correct idea how to do this work. Until within the last two or three years of his life, old Mr. Jamison had attended to this task quite thoroughly; and thus little was left for me to do beyond sawing away the boughs that had recently died and cutting out the useless sprouts on the larger limbs. Before leaving the city I had provided myself with such tools as I was sure I should need; and finding a ladder under a shed, I attacked the trees vigorously. I knew I must make the most of all the still days in this gusty month.

By the middle of the afternoon Mr. Jones appeared, and I was glad to see him, for there were some kinds of work about which I wanted his advice. At one end of the garden were several rows of black-cap raspberry bushes, which had grown into a very bad snarl. The old canes that had borne fruit the previous season were still standing, ragged and unsightly; the new stalks that would bear during the coming season sprawled in every direction; and I had found that many tips of the branches had grown fast in the ground. I took my neighbor to see this briery wilderness, and asked his advice.

"Have you a pair of pruning-nippers?" he asked.

Before going to the house to get them, I blew a shrill whistle to summon Merton, for I wished him also to hear all that Mr. Jones might say. I carried a little metallic whistle, one blast on which was for Merton, two for Winnie, and three for Bobsey. When they heard my call they were to come to me as fast as their feet could carry them.

Taking the nippers, Mr. Jones snipped off from one-third to one-half the length of the branches

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