The day of the little funeral he left the village of Redding
to tramp over the unknown road to the unknown south
where his almost unknown Uncle Michael had a farm and,
possibly, a home for him.
Fifteen miles that day, a night's rest in a barn, twenty-
five miles the next day, and Rolf had found his future
home.
"Come in, lad," was the not unfriendly reception, for
his arrival was happily fallen on a brief spell of good
humour, and a strong, fifteen-year-old boy is a distinct
asset on a farm.
Chapter 3. Rolf Catches a Coon and Finds a Friend
Aunt Prue, sharp-eyed and red-nosed, was
actually shy at first, but all formality vanished
as Rolf was taught the mysteries of pig-feeding,
hen-feeding, calf-feeding, cow-milking, and launched by list
only in a vast number of duties familiar to him from his
babyhood. What a list there was. An outsider might
have wondered if Aunt Prue was saving anything for herself,
but Rolf was used to toil. He worked without ceasing
and did his best, only to learn in time that the best could
win no praise, only avert punishment. The spells of good
nature arrived more seldom in his uncle's heart.
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