Whether the old woman was as superstitious as John, I know not; or whether she was impressed with the moral truth of the proverb—­for, as I have before stated, she was no fool—­is difficult to tell; but she shrunk back into her den, and never attacked the lad again.

Poor John bore no malice in his heart, not he; for, in spite of all the ill-natured things he had to endure from Uncle Joe and his family, he never attempted to return evil for evil.  In proof of this, he was one day chopping firewood in the bush, at some distance from Joe, who was engaged in the same employment with another man.  A tree in falling caught upon another, which, although a very large maple, was hollow and very much decayed, and liable to be blown down by the least shock of the wind.  The tree hung directly over the path that Uncle Joe was obliged to traverse daily with his team.  He looked up, and perceived, from the situation it occupied, that it was necessary for his own safety to cut it down; but he lacked courage to undertake so hazardous a job, which might be attended, if the supporting tree gave way during the operation, with very serious consequences.  In a careless tone, he called to his companion to cut down the tree.

“Do it yourself, H—–­,” said the axe man, with a grin.  “My wife and children want their man as much as your Hannah wants you.”

“I’ll not put axe to it,” quoth Joe.  Then, making signs to his comrade to hold his tongue, he shouted to Monaghan, “Hollo, boy! you’re wanted here to cut down this tree.  Don’t you see that your master’s cattle might be killed if they should happen to pass under it, and it should fall upon them.”

“Thrue for you, Masther Joe; but your own cattle would have the first chance.  Why should I risk my life and limbs, by cutting down the tree, when it was yerself that threw it so awkwardly over the other?”

“Oh, but you are a boy, and have no wife and children to depend upon you for bread,” said Joe, gravely.  “We are both family men.  Don’t you see that ’tis your duty to cut down the tree?”

The lad swung the axe to and fro in his hand, eyeing Joe and the tree alternately; but the natural kind-heartedness of the creature, and his reckless courage, overcame all idea of self-preservation, and raising aloft his slender but muscular arm, he cried out, “If it’s a life that must be sacrificed, why not mine as well as another?  Here goes! and the Lord have mercy on my sinful sowl!”

The tree fell, and, contrary to their expectations, without any injury to John.  The knowing Yankee burst into a loud laugh.  “Well, if you arn’t a tarnation soft fool, I never saw one.”

“What do you mane?” exclaimed John, his dark eyes flashing fire.  “If ’tis to insult me for doing that which neither of you dared to do, you had better not thry that same.  You have just seen the strength of my spirit.  You had better not thry again the strength of my arm, or, may be, you and the tree would chance to share the same fate;” and, shouldering his axe, the boy strode down the hill, to get scolded by me for his foolhardiness.