CHAPTER XI.
SETTLING WITH WOODELL.
So passed the days away.

What added brawn came to the strong young fellow's arms from the driving of the rails and lifting them to place! Brown, almost, as the changing beech-leaves his face, and the palms of his hands became like celluloid.

He was unlike the farmers, though, for he lacked the farmers' stoop--he had not to dig nor mow, nor rake nor bind.

He swung his ax or maul, and commanded the red oxen in country speech, and deeper and deeper into the forest grew the fence.
And, of evenings, he was with Jenny, and Sundays he was in the town.
What days they were, with all their force, and health, and lawless abandonment, though in the line of nature.

He drank not, nor smoked, nor ate made dishes.