I did so, but I could see no one.  He slackened his pace a little after that and before we had passed the hill it was getting dark.  The road ran into woods and a river cut through them a little way from the clearing.

‘Supper time, Uncle Eb,’ I suggested, as we came to the bridge.

‘Supper time, Uncle Eb,’ he answered, turning down to the shore.

I got out of the basket then and followed him in the brush.  Fred found it hard travelling here and shortly we took off his harness and left the wagon, transferring its load to the basket, while we pushed on to find a camping place.  Back in the thick timber a long way from the road, we built a fire and had our supper.  It was a dry nook in the pines -’tight as a house,’ Uncle Eb said — and carpeted with the fragrant needles.  When we lay on our backs in the firelight I remember the weary, droning voice of Uncle Eb had an impressive accompaniment of whispers.  While he told stories I had a glowing cinder on the end of a stick and was weaving fiery skeins in the gloom.

He had been telling me of a panther he had met in the woods, one day, and how the creature ran away at the sight of him.

’Why’s a panther ‘fraid o’ folks?’ I enquired.

‘Wall, ye see, they used t’ be friendly, years ’n years ago — folks ’n panthers — but they want eggszac’ly cal’lated t’ git along t’gether some way.  An’ ol’ she panther gin ’em one uv her cubs, a great while ago, jes t’ make frien’s.  The cub he grew big ‘n used t’ play ’n be very gentle.  They wuz a boy he tuk to, an’ both on ’em got very friendly.  The boy ’n the panther went off one day ’n the woods — guess ’twas more ‘n a hundred year ago — an’ was lost.  Walked all over ‘n fin’ly got t’ goin’ round ’n round ’n a big circle ’til they was both on ’em tired out.  Come night they lay down es hungry es tew bears.  The boy he was kind o’ ’fraid ‘o the dark, so he got up clus t’ the panther ’n lay ’tween his paws.  The boy he thought the panther smelt funny an’ the panther he didn’t jes’ like the smell o’ the boy.  An’ the boy he hed the legache ’n kicked the panther ’n the belly, so ‘t he kin’ o’ gagged ‘n spit an’ they want neither on ’em reel comf’able.  The sof paws o’ the panther was jes’ like pincushions.  He’d great hooks in ’em sharper ‘n the p’int uv a needle.  An’ when he was goin’ t’ sleep he’d run ’em out jes’ like an ol’ cat — kind o’ playfull — ’n purr ‘n pull.  All t’ once the boy felt sumthin’ like a lot o’ needles prickin’ his back.  Made him jump ’n holler like Sam Hill.  The panther he spit sassy ’n riz up ‘n smelt o’ the ground.  Didn’t neither on ’em know what was the matter.  Bime bye they lay down ag’in.  ’Twant only a little while ‘fore the boy felt somethin’ prickin’ uv him.  He hollered ’n kicked ag’in.  The panther he growled ’n spit ’n dumb a tree ’n sot on a limb ’n peeked over at thet queer little critter.  Couldn’t neither on ’em understan’ it.  The boy c’u’d see the eyes o’ the panther