I slept with Uncle Eb in the garret, that night, and for long after we came to the Brower's.

He continued to get better, and was shortly able to give his hand to the work of the farm.
There was room for all of us in that ample wilderness of his imagination, and the cry of the swift woke its echoes every evening for a time.

Bears and panthers prowled in the deep thickets, but the swifts took a firmer grip on us, being bolder and more terrible.

Uncle Eb became a great favourite in the family, and David Brower came to know soon that he was 'a good man to work' and could be trusted 'to look after things'.

We had not been there long when I heard Elizabeth speak of Nehemiah--her lost son--and his name was often on the lips of others.
He was a boy of sixteen when he went away, and I learned no more of him until long afterwards.
A month or more after we came to Faraway, I remember we went 'cross lots in a big box wagon to the orchard on the hill and gathered apples that fell in a shower when Uncle Eb went up to shake them down.