Both the old school and the new school remained closed even after the cholera ceased to thin out the citizens, but I felt no further interest in the education of youth.  When winter came I tramped three miles into the forest, and began to fell trees and split rails in order to fence in my suburban estate.  For some time I carried a rifle, and besides various small game I shot two deer, but neither of them would wait for me to come up with them even after I had shot them; they took my two bullets away with them, and left me only a few drops of blood on the snow; then I left the rifle at home.  For about four months the ground was covered with snow, and the cold was intense, but I continued splitting until the snakes came out to bask in the sun and warm themselves.  I saw near a dead log eight coiled together, and I killed them all.  The juice of the sugar maples began to run.  I cut notches in the bark in the shape of a broad arrow, bored a hole at the point, inserted a short spout of bark, and on sunny mornings the juice flowed in a regular stream, clear and sparkling; on cloudy days it only dropped.

One evening as I was plodding my weary way homeward, I looked up and saw in the distance a man inspecting my cellar.  I said, “Here’s another disgusting fool who ain’t seen it before.”  It certainly was a peculiar cellar, but not worth looking at so much.  I hated the sight of it.  It had no building over it, never was roofed in, and was sometimes full of snow.

The other fool proved to be Mr. Curtis, the teacher who had written the resolution of the meeting which voted me out of the school.  He held out his hand, and I took it, but reluctantly, and under secret protest.  I thought to myself, “This mine enemy has an axe to grind, or he would not be here.  I’ll be on my guard.”

“I have been waiting for you some time,” said Mr. Curtis.  “I was told you were splitting rails in the forest, and would be home about sundown.  I wanted to see you about opening school again.  Mr. Rogers won’t have anything to say to it, but the other two managers, Mr. Strong and Mr. Demmond, want to engage you and me, one to teach in the upper storey of the school, the other down below, and I came up to ask you to see them about it.”

“How does it happen that Mr. Sellars has not come over from Dresden?” I said.

“Joliet is about the last place on this earth that Mr. Sellars will come to.  Didn’t you hear about him and Priscilla?” asked Mr. Curtis.

“No, I heard nothing since that meeting; only saw the school doors were closed every time I passed that way.”

“Well, I am surprised.  I thought everybody knew by this time, though we did not like to say much about it.”

I began to feel interested.  Mr. Curtis had something pleasant to tell me about the misfortunes of my enemies, so I listened attentively.