I think it was just one man that did that job." How well I remember the long silence that followed and the distant voices that flashed across it now and then--the call of the mire drum in the marshes and the songs of the winter wren and the swamp robin.

It was a solemn silence.
The swift words, "Your money or your life," came out of my memory and rang in it.

I felt its likeness to the scolding demands of Mr.Grimshaw, who was forever saying in effect: "Your money or your home!" That was like demanding our lives because we couldn't live without our home.

Our all was in it.

Mr.Grimshaw's gun was the power he had over us, and what a terrible weapon it was! I credit him with never realizing how terrible.
We came to the sand-hills and then Uncle Peabody broke the silence by saying: "I wouldn't give fifty cents for as much o' this land as a bird could fly around in a day." Then for a long time I heard only the sound of feet and wheels muffled in the sand, while my uncle sat looking thoughtfully at the siding.
When I spoke to him he seemed not to hear me.
Before we reached home I knew what was in his mind, but neither dared to speak of it.
People came from Canton and all the neighboring villages to see and talk with me and among them were the Dunkelbergs.