It　was　morning　when　I　opened　my　eyes　again。　We　children　looked　accusingly　at　each　other　while　eating　breakfast。　Then　we　had　to　be　washed　and　dressed　in　our　best　clothes　to　go　to　meeting。　When　the　wagon　was　at　the　door　and　we　were　ready　to　start　I　had　doughnuts　and　bread　and　butter　in　every　pocket　of　my　coat　and　trousers。　I　got　in　quickly　and　pulled　the　blanket　over　me　so　as　to　conceal　the　fullness　of　my　pockets。　We　arrived　so　late　I　had　no　chance　to　go　to　the　dog　before　we　went　into　meeting。　I　was　wearing　boots　that　were　too　small　for　me；　and　when　I　entered　with　the　others　and　sat　down　upon　one　of　those　straight　backed　seats　of　plain；　unpainted　pine　my　feet　felt　as　if　I　had　been　caught　in　a　bear　trap。　There　was　always　such　a　silence　in　the　room　after　the　elder　had　sat　down　and　adjusted　his　spectacles　that　I　could　hear　the　ticking　of　the　watch　he　carried　in　the　pocket　of　his　broadcloth　waistcoat。　For　my　own　part　I　know　I　looked　with　too　much　longing　for　the　good　of　my　soul　on　the　great　gold　chain　that　spanned　the　broad　convexity　of　his　stomach。　Presently　I　observed　that　a　couple　of　young　women　were　looking　at　me　and　whispering。　Then　suddenly　I　became　aware　that　there　were　sundry　protuberances　on　my　person　caused　by　bread　and　butter　and　doughnuts；　and　I　felt　very　miserable　indeed。　Now　and　then　as　the　elder　spoke　the　loud；　accusing　neigh　of　some　horse；　tethered　to　the　fence　in　the　schoolyard；　mingled　with　his　thunder。　After　the　good　elder　had　been　preaching　an　hour　his　big；　fat　body　seemed　to　swim　in　my　tears。　When　he　had　finished　the　choir　sang。　Their　singing　was　a　thing　that　appealed　to　the　eye　as　well　as　the　ear。　Uncle　Eb　used　to　say　it　was　a　great　comfort　to　see　Elkenah　Samson　sing　bass。　His　great　mouth　opened　widely　in　this　form　of　praise　and　his　eyes　had　a　wild　stare　in　them　when　he　aimed　at　the　low　notes。
  Ransom　Walker；　a　man　of　great　dignity；　with　a　bristling　moustache；　who　had　once　been　a　schoolmaster；　led　the　choir　and　carried　the　tenor　part。　It　was　no　small　privilege　after　the　elder　had　announced　the　hymn；　to　see　him　rise　and　tap　the　desk　with　his　tuning　fork　and　hold　it　to　his　ear　solemnly。　Then　he　would　seem　to　press　his　chin　full　hard　upon　his　throat　while　he　warbled　a　scale。　Immediately；　soprano；　alto；　bass　and　tenor　launched　forth　upon　the　sea　of　song。　The　parts　were　like　the　treacherous　and　conflicting　currents　of　a　tide　that　tossed　them　roughly　and　sometimes　overturned　their　craft。　And　Ransom　Walker　showed　always　a　proper　sense　of　danger　and　responsibility。　Generally　they　got　to　port　safely　on　these　brief　excursions；　though　exhausted。　He　had　a　way　of　beating　time　with　his　head　while　singing　and　I　have　no　doubt　it　was　a　great　help　to　him。
  The　elder　came　over　to　me　after　meeting；　having　taken　my　tears　for　a　sign　of　conviction。
  'May　the　Lord　bless　and　comfort　you；　my　boy！'　said　he。
  I　got　away　shortly　and　made　for　the　door。　Uncle　Eb　stopped　me。
  'My　stars；　Willie！'　said　he　putting　his　hand　on　my　upper　coat　pocket'　'what　ye　got　in　there？'
  'Doughnuts；'　I　answered。
  'An'　what's　this？'　he　asked　touching　one　of　my　side　pockets。
  'Doughnuts；'　I　repeated。
  'An'　this；'　touching　another。
  'That's　doughnuts　too；'　I　said。
  'An'　this；'　he　continued　going　down　to　my　trousers　pocket。
  'Bread　an'　butter；'　I　answered；　shamefacedly；　and　on　the　verge　of　tears。
  'Jerusalem！'　he　exclaimed；　'must　a　'spected　a　purty　long　sermon。
  'Brought　'em　fer　ol'　Fred；'　I　replied。
  'Ol'　Fred！'　he　whispered；　'where's　he？'
  I　told　my　secret　then　and　we　both　went　out　with　Hope　to　where　we　had　left　him。　He　lay　with　his　head　between　his　paws　on　the　bed　of　grass　just　as　I　had　seen　him　lie　many　a　time　when　his　legs　were　weary　with　travel　on　Paradise　Road；　and　when　his　days　were　yet　full　of　pleasure。　We　called　to　him　and　Uncle　Eb　knelt　and　touched　his　head。　Then　he　lifted　the　dog's　nose；　looked　a　moment　into　the　sightless　eyes　and　let　it　fall　again。
  'Fred's　gone；'　said　he　in　a　low　tone　as　he　turned　away。　'Got　there　ahead　uv　us；　Willy。'
  Hope　and　I　sat　down　by　the　old　dog　and　wept　bitterly。
  Chapter　10
  Uncle　Eb　was　a　born　lover　of　fun。　But　he　had　a　solemn　way　of　fishing　that　was　no　credit　to　a　cheerful　man。　It　was　the　same　when　he　played　the　bass　viol；　but　that　was　also　a　kind　of　fishing　at　which　he　tried　his　luck　in　a　roaring　torrent　of　sound。　Both　forms　of　dissipation　gave　him　a　serious　look　and　manner；　that　came　near　severity。　They　brought　on　his　face　only　the　light　of　hope　and　anticipation　or　the　shadow　of　disappointment。
  We　had　finished　our　stent　early　the　day　of　which　lam　writing。　When　we　had　dug　our　worms　and　were　on　our　way　to　the　brook　with　pole　and　line　a　squint　of　elation　had　hold　of　Uncle　Eb's　face。　Long　wrinkles　deepened　as　he　looked　into　the　sky　for　a　sign　of　the　weather；　and　then　relaxed　a　bit　as　he　turned　his　eyes　upon　the　smooth　sward。　It　was　no　time　for　idle　talk。　We　tiptoed　over　the　leafy　carpet　of　the　woods。　Soon　as　I　spoke　he　lifted　his　hand　with　a　warning　'Sh　…　h！'　The　murmur　of　the　stream　was　in　our　ears。　Kneeling　on　a　mossy　knoll　we　baited　the　hooks；　then　Uncle　Eb　beckoned　to　me。
  I　came　to　him　on　tiptoe。
  'See　thet　there　foam　'long　side　o'　the　big　log？'　he　whispered；　pointing　with　his　finger。
  I　nodded。
  'Cre…e…ep　up　jest　as　ca…a…areful　as　ye　can；'　he　went　on　whispering。　'Drop　in　a　leetle　above　an'　let　'er　float　down。'
  Then　he　went　on；　below　me；　lifting　his　feet　in　slow　and　stealthy　strides。
  He　halted　by　a　bit　of　driftwood　and　cautiously　threw　in；　his　arm　extended；　his　figure　alert。　The　squint　on　his　face　took　a　firmer　grip。　Suddenly　his　pole　gave　a　leap；　the　water　splashed；　his　line　sang　in　the　air　and　a　fish　went　up　like　a　rocket。　As　we　were　looking　into　the　treetops　it　thumped　the　shore　beside　him；　quivered　a　moment　and　flopped　down　the　bank　He　scrambled　after　it　and　went　to　his　knees　in　the　brook　coming　up　empty…handed。　The　water　was　slopping　out　of　his　boot　legs。
  'Whew！'　said　he；　panting　with　excitement；　as　I　came　over　to　him。　'Reg'lar　ol'　he　one；'　he　added；　looking　down　at　his　boots。　'Got　away　from　me　…　consarn　him！　Hed　a　leetle　too　much　power　in　the　arm。；
  He　emptied　his　boots；　baited　up　and　went　back　to　his　fishing。　As　I　looked　up　at　him　he　stood　leaning　over　the　stream　jiggling　his　hook。　In　a　moment　I　saw　a　tug　at　the　line。　The　end　of　his　pole　went　under　water　like　a　flash。　It　bent　double　as　Uncle　Eb　gave　it　a　lift。　The　fish　began　to　dive　and　rush。　The　line　cut　the　water　in　a　broad　semicircle　and　then　went　far　and　near　with　long；　quick　slashes。　The　pole　nodded　and　writhed　like　a　thing　of　life。　Then　Uncle　Eb　had　a　look　on　him　that　is　one　of　the　treasures　of　my　memory。　In　a　moment　the　fish　went　away　with　such　a　violent　rush；　to　save　him；　he　had　to　throw　his　pole　into　the　water。
  'Heavens　an'　airth！'　he　shouted；　'the　ol'　settler！'
  The　pole　turned　quickly　and　went　lengthwise　into　the　rapids。　He　ran　down　the　bank　and　I　after　him。　The　pole　was　speeding　through　the　swift　water。　We　scrambled　over　logs　and　through　bushes；　but　the　pole　went　faster　than　we。　Presently　it　stopped　and　swung　around。　Uncle　Eb　went　splashing　into　the　brook。　Almost　within　reach　of　the　pole　he　dashed　his　foot　upon　a　stone；　falling　headlong　in　the　current。　I　was　close　upon　his　heels　and　gave　him　a　hand。　He　rose　hatless；　dripping　from　head　to　foot　and　pressed　on。　He　lifted　his　pole。　The　line　clung　to　a　snag　and　then　gave　way；　the　tackle　was　missing。　He　looked　at　it　silently；　tilting　his　head。　We　walked　slowly　to　the　shore。　Neither　spoke　for　a　moment。
  'Must　have　been　a　big　fish；'　I　remarked。
  'Powerful！'　said　he；　chewing　vigorously　on　his　quid　of　tobacco　as　he　shook　his　head　and　looked　down　at　his　wet　clothing。　'In　a　desp'rit　fix；　ain't　I？'
  'Too　bad！'　I　exclaimed。
  'Seldom　ever　hed　sech　a　disapp'intrnent〃　he　said。　'Ruther　counted　on　ketchin'　thet　fish　…　he　was　s'　well　hooked。'
  He　looked　longingly　at　the　water　a　moment　'If　I　don't　go　hum；'　said　he；　'an'　keep　my　mouth　shet　I'll　say　sumthin'　I'll　be　sorry　fer。'
  He　was　never　quite　the　same　after　that。　He　told　often　of　his　struggle　with　this　unseen；　mysterious　fish　and　I　imagined　he　was　a　bit　more　given　to　reflection。　He　had　had　hold　of　the　'ol'　settler　of　Deep　Hole'　…　a　fish　of　great　influence　and　renown　there　in　Faraway。　Most　of　the　local　fishermen　had　felt　him　tug　at　the　line　one　time　or　another。　No　man　had　ever　seen　him　for　the　water　was　black　in　Deep　Hole。　No　fish　had　ever　exerted　a　greater　influence　on　the　thought'　the　imagination；　the　manners　or　the　moral　character　of　his　contemporaries。　Tip　Taylor　always　took　off　his　hat　and　sighed　when　he　spoke　of　the　'ol'　settler'。　Ransom　Walker　said　he　had　once　seen　his　top　fin　and　thought　it　longer　than　a　razor。　Ransom　took　to　idleness　and　chewing　tobacco　immediately　after　his　encounter　with　the　big　fish；　and　both　vices　stuck　to　him　as　long　as　he　lived。　Everyone　had　his　theory　of　the　'ol'　settler'。　Most　agreed　he　was　a　very　heavy　trout。　Tip　Taylor　used　to　say　that　in　his　opinion　''twas　nuthin'　more'n　a　plain；　overgrown；　common　sucker；'　but　Tip　came　from　the　Sucker　Brook　country　where　suckers　lived　in　colder　water　and　were　more　entitled　to　respect。
  Mose　Tupper　had　never　had　his　hook　in　the　'ol'　settler'　and　would　believe　none　of　the　many　stories　of　adventure　at　Deep　Hole　that　had　thrilled　the