To Aunt Deel men-folks were a careless, irresponsible and mischievous lot who had to be looked after all the time or there was no telling what would happen to them. She slipped some extra pairs of socks and a bottle of turpentine into the pack basket and told us what we were to do if we got wet feet or sore throats or stomach ache.

Aunt Deel kissed me lightly on the cheek with a look that seemed to say, "There, I've done it at last," and gave me a little poke with her hand (I remember thinking what an extravagant display of affection it was) and many cautions before I got into the wagon with Mr. Wright, and my uncle. We drove up the hills and I heard little that the men said for my thoughts were busy. We arrived at the cabin of Bill Seaver that stood on the river bank just above Rainbow Falls. Bill stood in his dooryard and greeted us with a loud "h.e.l.lo, there!"

"Want to go fishin'?" Uncle Peabody called.

"You bet I do. Gosh! I ain't had no fun since I went to Joe Brown's funeral an' that day I enjoyed myself--d.a.m.ned if I didn't! Want to go up the river?"

"We thought we'd go up to your camp and fish a day or two."

"All right! We'll hitch in the hosses. My wife'll take care of 'em 'til we git back. Say it looks as fishy as h.e.l.l, don't it?"

"This is Mr. Silas Wright--the Comptroller," said Uncle Peabody.

"It is! Gosh almighty! I ought to have knowed it," said Bill Seaver, his tone and manner having changed like magic to those of awed respect. "I see ye in court one day years ago. If I'd knowed 'twas you I wouldn't 'a' swore as I did." The men began laughing and then he added: "d.a.m.ned if I would!"

"It won't hurt me any--the boy is the one," said Mr. Wright as he took my hand and strolled up the river bank with me. I rather feared and dreaded those big roaring men like Bill Seaver.

The horses were hitched in and the canoes washed out. Then we all turned to and dug some angle-worms. The poles were brought--lines, hooks and sinkers were made ready and in an hour or so we were on our way up the river, Mr. Wright and I and Uncle Peabody being in one of the canoes, the latter working the paddle.

I remember how, as we went along, Mr. Wright explained the fundamental theory of his politics. I gave strict attention because of my pride in the fact that he included me in the ill.u.s.tration of his point. This in substance is what he said, for I can not pretend to quote his words with precision although I think they vary little from his own, for here before me is the composition ent.i.tled "The Comptroller," which I wrote two years later and read at a lyceum in the district schoolhouse.

"We are a fishing party. There are four of us who have come together with one purpose--that of catching fish and having a good time. We have elected Bill guide because he knows the river and the woods and the fish better than we do. It's Bill's duty to give us the benefit of his knowledge, and to take us to and from camp and out of the woods at our pleasure and contribute in all reasonable ways to our comfort. He is the servant of his party. Now if Bill, having approved our aim and accepted the job from us, were to try to force a new aim upon the party and insist that we should all join him in the sport of catching b.u.t.terflies, we would soon break up. If we could agree on the b.u.t.terfly program that would be one thing, but if we held to our plan and Bill stood out, he would be a traitor to his party and a fellow of very bad manners. As long as the aims of my party are, in the main, right, I believe its commands are sacred. Always in our country the will of the greatest number ought to prevail--right or wrong. It has a right even to make mistakes, for through them it should learn wisdom and gradually adjust itself to the will of its greatest leaders."

It is remarkable that the great commoner should have made himself understood by a boy of eight, but in so doing he exemplified the gift that raised him above all the men I have met--that of throwing light into dark places so that all could see the truth that was hidden there.

Now and then we came to noisy water hills slanting far back through rocky timbered gorges, or little foamy stairways in the river leading up to higher levels. The men carried the canoes around these places while I followed gathering wild flowers and watching the red-winged black birds that flew above us calling hoa.r.s.ely across the open s.p.a.ces. Now and then, a roaring veering cloud of pigeons pa.s.sed in the upper air. The breath of the river was sweet with the fragrance of pine and balsam.

We were going around a bend when we heard the voice of Bill shouting just above us. He had run the bow of his canoe on a gravel beach just below a little waterfall and a great trout was flopping and tumbling about in the gra.s.s beside him.

"Yip!" he shouted as he held up the radiant, struggling fish that reached from his chin to his belt. "I tell ye boys they're goin' to be sa.s.sy as the devil. Jump out an' go to work here."

With what emotions I leaped out upon the gravel and watched the fishing! A new expression came into the faces of the men. Their mouths opened. There was a curious squint in their eyes. Their hands trembled as they baited their hooks. The song of the river, tumbling down a rocky slant, filled the air. I saw the first bite. How the pole bent! How the line hissed as it went rushing through the water out among the spinning bubbles! What a splash as the big fish in his coat of many colors broke through the ripples and rose aloft and fell at my feet throwing a spray all over me as he came down! That was the way they fished in those days.

They angled with a stout pole of seasoned tamarack and no reel, and catching a fish was like breaking a colt to halter.

While he was fishing Mr. Wright slipped off the rock he stood on and sank shoulder deep in the water. I ran and held out my hand crying loudly. Uncle Peabody helped him ash.o.r.e with his pole. Tears were flowing down my cheeks while I stood sobbing in a kind of juvenile hysterics.

"What's the matter?" Uncle Peabody demanded.

"I was 'fraid--Mr. Wright--was goin' to be drownded," I managed to say.

The Comptroller shook his arms and came and knelt by my side and kissed me.

"G.o.d bless the dear boy!" he exclaimed. "It's a long time since any one cried for me. I love you, Bart."

When Bill swore after that the Comptroller raised his hand and shook his head and uttered a protesting hiss.

We got a dozen trout before we resumed our journey and reached camp soon after one o'clock very hungry. It was a rude bark lean-to, and we soon made a roaring fire in front of it. What a dinner we had! the bacon and the fish fried in its fat and the boiled potatoes and the flapjacks and maple sugar! All through my long life I have sought in vain for a dinner like it. I helped with the washing of the dishes and, that done, Bill made a back for his fire of green beech logs, placed one upon the other and held in place by stakes driven in the ground. By and by Mr. Wright asked me if I would like to walk over to Alder Brook with him.

"The fish are smaller there and I guess you could catch 'em," said he.

The invitation filled me with joy and we set out together through the thick woods. The leaves were just come and their vivid, glossy green sprinkled out in the foliage of the little beeches and the woods smelt of new things. The trail was overgrown and great trees had fallen into it and we had to pick our way around them. The Comptroller carried me on his back over the wet places and we found the brook at last and he baited my hook while I caught our basket nearly full of little trout.

Coming back we lost the trail and presently the Comptroller stopped and said:

"Bart, I'm 'fraid we're going wrong. Let's sit down here and take a look at the compa.s.s."

He took out his compa.s.s and I stood by his knee and watched the quivering needle.

"Yes, sir," he went on. "We just turned around up there on the hill and started for Alder Brook again."

As we went on he added: "When you're in doubt look at the compa.s.s. It always knows its way."

"How does it know?" I asked.

"It couldn't tell ye how and I couldn't. There are lots o' things in the world that n.o.body can understand."

The needle now pointed toward its favorite star.

"My uncle says that everything and everybody has compa.s.ses in 'em to show 'em the way to go," I remarked thoughtfully.

"He's right," said the Comptroller. "I'm glad you told me for I'd never thought of it. Every man has a compa.s.s in his heart to tell which way is right. I shall always remember that, partner."

He gave me a little hug as we sat together and I wondered what a partner might be, for the word was new to me.

"What's partner?" I asked.

"Somebody you like to have with you."

Always when we were together after that hour the great man called me "partner."

We neared camp in the last light of the day. Mr. Wright stopped to clean our fish at a little murmuring brook and I ran on ahead for I could hear the crackling of the camp-fire and the voice of Bill Seaver. I thought in whispers what I should say to my Uncle Peabody and they were brave words. I was close upon the rear of the camp when I checked my eager pace and approached on tiptoe. I was going to surprise and frighten my uncle and then embrace him. Suddenly my heart stood still, for I heard him saying words fit only for the tongue of a Dug Draper or a Charley Boyce--the meanest boy in school--low, wicked words which Uncle Peabody himself had taught me to fear and despise. My Uncle Peabody! Once I heard a man telling of a doomful hour in which his fortune won by years of hard work, broke and vanished like a bubble. The dismay he spoke of reminded me of my own that day. My Aunt Deel had told me that the devil used bad words to tempt his victims into a lake of fire where they sizzled and smoked and yelled forever and felt worse, every minute, than one sitting on a hot griddle. To save me from such a fate my uncle had nearly blistered me with his slipper. How was I to save him? I stood still for a moment of confusion and anxiety, with my hand over my mouth, while a strange sickness came upon me. A great cold wave had swept in off the uncharted seas and flooded my little beach, and covered it with wreckage. What was I to do? I knew that I couldn't punish him. I couldn't bear to speak to him even, so I turned and walked slowly away.

My dear, careless old uncle was in great danger. As I think of it now, what a whited sepulchre he had become in a moment! Had I better consult Mr. Wright? No. My pride in my uncle and my love for him would not permit it. I must bear my burden alone until I could tell Aunt Deel. She would know what to do. Mr. Wright came along and found me sitting in deep dejection on a bed of vivid, green moss by an old stump at the trail-side.

"What ye doing here?" he asked in surprise.

"Nothing," I answered gravely.

The Comptroller must have observed the sorrow in my face, for he asked:

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I lied, and then my conscience caught up with my tongue and I added: "It's a secret."

Fearing that my uncle would disgrace himself in the hearing of Mr.

Wright, I said something--I do not remember what, save that it related to the weather--in a loud voice by way of warning.

They noticed the downcast look of me when we entered camp.