Then I ventured
to trust my weight to it and amid much laughter but without any
difficulty lowered myself to the ground.
In fact, I was not exactly the hero. The hero, I think, was Willis. But
for his appearance I hardly know how I should have fared.
Old Hughy, I remember, was rather loath to share the honey with us; but
we all took enough to satisfy us. The old man, indeed, was hardly the
hero of the occasion either--a fact that he became aware of when on our
way home we met grandmother Ruth, anxious and red in the face from her
long walk. She expressed herself to him with great frankness. "Didn't
you promise to be careful where you sent that boy!" she exclaimed. "Hugh
Glinds, you are a palavering old humbug!"
Old Hughy had little enough to say; but he tried to smooth matters over
by offering her a piece of honey-comb.
"No, sir," said she. "I want none of your honey!"
All that the old Squire had said when he saw me up in the hemlock was,
"Be calm, my son; you will get down safe." And when they threw the rope
up to me he added, "Now, first tie a square knot and then take good hold
of the rope with both hands."
CHAPTER XXV
WHEN THE LION ROARED
At daybreak on September 26, if I remember aright, we started to drive
from the old farm to Portland with eighteen live hogs.
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