Enchanted Pilgrimage Read Free Page B

man looked up and raised a solemn hand in greeting. It was Old Drood and Gib wondered what he was doing here. The last time he had heard of Drood, he had his raft over near the willow bank close to the river.
    Gib pulled his boat against the raft, thrust out a paddle, and held it there.
    â€œLong time since I saw you,” he said. “When did you move over here?”
    â€œA few days ago,” said Drood. He left his net mending and came over to squat close beside the boat. He was getting old, Gib saw. As long as he could remember, he had been called Old Drood, even when he’d not been old, but now the years were catching up with the name. He was getting gray.
    â€œFigured I’d try for some wood over on the shore,” he said. “Not much but willow left over there against the river and willow makes poor burning.”
    Mrs. Drood came waddling around the hut. She spoke in a high-pitched, squeaky voice. “I thought I heard someone. It’s young Gib, isn’t it?” She squinted at him with weak eyes.
    â€œHello, Mrs. Drood,” said Gib. “I’m glad you are my neighbors.”
    â€œWe may not stop here for long,” said Drood. “Only long enough to get a load of wood.”
    â€œYou got any so far?”
    â€œSome,” said Drood. “It goes slow. No one to help. The children all are gone. Struck off on their own. I can’t work as hard as I once could.”
    â€œI don’t like it,” said Mrs. Drood. “There are all them wolves.”
    â€œI got my ax,” said Drood. “There ain’t no wolf going to bother me long as I have the ax.”
    â€œAll the children gone,” said Gib. “Last time I saw you, there still was Dave and Alice.”
    â€œAlice got married three, four months ago,” said Drood. “Young fellow down at the south end of the marsh. Dave built himself a raft. Good job he did with it. Wouldn’t let me help him much. Said he had to build his own. He built himself a nice raft. Moved over to the east. We see him and Alice every now and then.”
    â€œWe got some ale,” said Mrs. Drood. “Would you like a mug of ale? And I forgot to ask you, have you had your breakfast? It would only take a minute.”
    â€œI’ve had breakfast, Mrs. Drood, and thank you. But I’d like a mug of ale.”
    â€œBring me one, too,” said Drood. “Can’t let Gib here drink alone.”
    Mrs. Drood waddled back to the hut.
    â€œYes, sir,” said Drood, “it ain’t easy getting in the wood. But if I take my time, I can manage it. Good wood, too. Oak and maple, mostly. All dried out and ready for the fire. Lots of down stuff. No one has touched it for years. Once in a while a pack train camps near here, if they’re caught at night, and have to rustle up some camp wood. But they don’t make a dent in it. Up the hill a ways there’s a down shagbark hickory and it’s the best wood that there is. You don’t find one of them down too often. It’s a far ways to go to reach it, though.…”
    â€œI’m busy today,” said Gib, “but tomorrow and the next day I can help you with the wood.”
    â€œThere ain’t no need to, Gib. I can manage it.”
    â€œI’d like some of that hickory myself.”
    â€œWell, now, if that’s the way of it, I’d go partners with you. And thanks an awful lot.”
    â€œGlad to.”
    Mrs. Drood came back with three mugs of ale. “I brought one for myself,” she said. “Land sakes, it ain’t often we get visitors. I’ll just sit down while we drink the ale.”
    â€œGib is going to help me with the wood tomorrow,” said Drood. “We’ll go after that big hickory.”
    â€œHickory is good wood,” said Mrs. Drood.
    â€œI am getting me a new ax,” said Gib. “The old one is almost worn out. It was one my father gave