Ye see, even the road here is made of
sawdust, four foot or more deep and packed as solid as a brick
walk. That's the way Pale Lick went, sawdust afire. Ha'f the
town was built on sawdust foundation an' she smouldered for weeks
before they knowed of it. Then come erlong a big wind and
started the blaze to the surface."
"Oh!" murmured Nan, much interested. "Didn't my Uncle Henry live
there then?"
"I sh'd say he did," returned Toby, emphatically. "Didn't he
never tell ye about it?"
"No, sir. They never speak of Pale Lick."
"Well, I won't, nuther," grunted old Toby. "'Taint pretty for a
young gal like you to hear about. Whush! Thar goes a loon!"
A big bird had suddenly come into sight, evidently from some
nearby water-hole. It did not fly high and seemed very clumsy,
like a duck or goose.
"Oh! Are they good to eat, Mr. Vanderwiller?" cried Nan. "Rafe
brought in a brace of summer ducks the other day, and they were
awfully good, the way Aunt Kate cooked them."
"Well!" drawled Toby, slyly, "I've hearn tell ye c'd eat a loon,
ef 'twas cooked right. But I never tried it."
"How do you cook a loon, Mr. Vanderwiller?" asked Nan, interested
in all culinary pursuits.
"Well, they tell me thet it's some slow process," said the old
man, his eyes twinkling.
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