In the fall of that year when the frost came and the trees in the forests along Wine Creek were golden brown, David spent every moment when he did not have to attend school, out in the open.  Alone or with other boys he went every afternoon into the woods to gather nuts.  The other boys of the countryside, most of them sons of laborers on the Bentley farms, had guns with which they went hunting rabbits and squirrels, but David did not go with them.  He made himself a sling with rubber bands and a forked stick and went off by himself to gather nuts.  As he went about thoughts came to him.  He realized that he was almost a man and wondered what he would do in life, but before they came to anything, the thoughts passed and he was a boy again.  One day he killed a squirrel that sat on one of the lower branches of a tree and chattered at him.  Home he ran with the squirrel in his hand.  One of the Bentley sisters cooked the little animal and he ate it with great gusto.  The skin he tacked on a board and suspended the board by a string from his bedroom window.

That gave his mind a new turn.  After that he never went into the woods without carrying the sling in his pocket and he spent hours shooting at imaginary animals concealed among the brown leaves in the trees.  Thoughts of his coming manhood passed and he was content to be a boy with a boy’s impulses.

One Saturday morning when he was about to set off for the woods with the sling in his pocket and a bag for nuts on his shoulder, his grandfather stopped him.  In the eyes of the old man was the strained serious look that always a little frightened David.  At such times Jesse Bentley’s eyes did not look straight ahead but wavered and seemed to be looking at nothing.  Something like an invisible curtain appeared to have come between the man and all the rest of the world.  “I want you to come with me,” he said briefly, and his eyes looked over the boy’s head into the sky.  “We have something important to do today.  You may bring the bag for nuts if you wish.  It does not matter and anyway we will be going into the woods.”

Jesse and David set out from the Bentley farmhouse in the old phaeton that was drawn by the white horse.  When they had gone along in silence for a long way they stopped at the edge of a field where a flock of sheep were grazing.  Among the sheep was a lamb that had been born out of season, and this David and his grandfather caught and tied so tightly that it looked like a little white ball.  When they drove on again Jesse let David hold the lamb in his arms.  “I saw it yesterday and it put me in mind of what I have long wanted to do,” he said, and again he looked away over the head of the boy with the wavering, uncertain stare in his eyes.