“As we can’t have any kissing without the girls,” said Joe, “let’s play ‘Pull up.’”

The handle of one of the axes was knocked out, and the game began. It was a most severe test of strength. Two of the company, sitting upon the floor, and putting the soles of their feet together, took hold of the axe-handle, and endeavored to pull each other up. If either broke his hold he was adjudged beaten. Victory in this game depends not merely upon weight, as it might seem at first, but upon strength in the hands, and power of endurance. A man may be very heavy, and have great strength in his arms, and not be strong in his fingers to retain his hold upon the axe-handle.

The young men would sit there and pull, with their teeth set, and the perspiration streaming down their faces, and their eyes almost starting from their sockets. When they were pretty equally matched, one would raise the other from the floor an inch or two, and then lose it again, as his opponent made desperate efforts, and recovered the ground, their friends meanwhile encouraging either party; and as the weakest men were brought on first, and afterwards the strongest and most equally matched, the game became, towards the close, most intensely interesting.

Joe Bradish had pulled up four of his opponents, and being a very conceited fellow, strutted about the floor, and challenged the crowd to pull him up. The challenge would not have remained long unaccepted, but the contest had now become limited to a few of the strongest men, who, knowing they were to be pitted against each other, were saving themselves for the final struggle.

Uncle Isaac saw how it was; and, as he wished to see how the sport would go on, and to teach the braggart a little modesty, he rose up, threw off his outer garment, and accepted the challenge. His proposal was received with shouts of laughter.

“I’m sorry he’s done it,” said Seth to Joe Griffin, “though I can’t help laughing. I should be sorry to see him pulled up before this crowd, for I know it would mortify him; he is just as much of a boy as any of us.”

“He won’t be pulled. Uncle Isaac, I can tell you, is an all fired strong man; it don’t lay in Joe Bradish’s breeches to pull him up.”

“I know that; but he’s getting in years.”

“He can’t wrestle and jump quite as well as he could once; but he can lift as much, and pull up as well, as ever he could. Joe Bradish will get a good lesson; he’ll never hear the last of it as long as he lives.”

“Well, boys,” said Uncle Isaac, “fling on some pitch knots; if I am going to be beat, I want everybody to see it.”

“What did I tell you?” said Joe, giving Seth a poke in the ribs; “the old man knows what he’s about.”

The two champions sat down.

“Say when you’re ready, Joe,” said Uncle Isaac.

“Ready,” says Joe.

Uncle Isaac was not only strong, but of very quick strength; and before the words were well out of the other’s mouth, he pulled him over his head, into Joe Griffin’s arms, who was eagerly looking over Uncle Isaac.

“It ain’t fair,” said Joe, his face as red as fire; “I wasn’t ready.”

“You said you was.”

“Well, I thought I was; but I wasn’t.” “Try it again,” was the cry. They sat down. Uncle Isaac waited patiently till Joe had spit on his hands, and said he was completely ready, when he pulled him up just as easily as before.

“I thought you was some, Joe,” said Uncle Isaac; “but you ain’t nothing.”

John Strout, a large, muscular man, whose occupation as a sailor had the effect to concentrate strength in the fingers and chest, had pulled up all who opposed him. The call was now for Joe Griffin, as no one thought of pulling with Rhines. Joe came forward at the summons. Severe was the struggle; and, as these were the last antagonists, the interest was proportionally great. Joe finally pulled John from the floor, but the blood spun from his nose in consequence of his efforts; and John was so exhausted that he could scarcely stand.

“I could not have done it, John, if you had taken hold of me when you were fresh, for an ounce more would have broken my hold.”

Uncle Isaac now gave the wink to Seth, who said, loud enough for everybody to hear, “I think it’s a pity, now we’re here, that we couldn’t shingle the house, and build Ben a hovel to put his cow in, and hang the doors; then all he would have to do would be to get married.” “Well, we would do it, if we had the shingles to do it with—wouldn’t we, boys?” said Joe Griffin.

“Yes,” was the reply from twenty voices; “and we’ll build the hovel and hang the doors, at any rate; we’ve got all the materials for that.”

“Well, boys,” said Uncle Isaac, “since you are so free-hearted, I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking of, for I feel about nineteen, since I pulled up Joe Bradish. I’ve been thinking I should like first rate to have a clam bake.”

“A clam bake! a clam bake!” was the cry.

“But then, you see, we have no hoes to dig clams with; and we want some eggs, potatoes, and apples to bake with them. Now, I’ve got a whole lot of hemlock bark on the edge of the bank on my point, where you can go to it with the gundelow—enough to cover three such houses. I’ll lend it to Ben, and when he peels bark next June he can pay me; and I’ve got nails likewise. If we can get an early start in the morning, we can do the whole, clam bake and all. The bark is all piled up, so that it is flat, and will lay first rate; it will make as tight a roof as shingles, and last seven or eight years, and by that time Ben can make his own shingles. Some of you can load the gundelow, and some can get the hoes and nails; and tell Hannah to give you some corn that grows in the western field,—it’s a late piece—the frost hasn’t touched it yet,—it’s just right to roast; and also get all the apples, eggs, and potatoes you want.”

Uncle Isaac’s plan met with a hearty approval; and they brought in some brush, and lay down to sleep.

The next morning, at daybreak, John Strout, with a strong party, started after the bark, taking a jug of coffee and a cold bite with them.

The others went to work making preparations to cover the roof of the house, and build the hovel. Uncle Isaac gave Joe Griffin a gang, and set him to build the hovel. Sam Atkins, with the ship carpenters, went to work upon the doors, while the rest put up the staging upon which to work while covering the roof.

The hovel was built of round logs, notched together, with a roof on one side,—what is called a half-faced cabin,—just high enough to clear the cattle’s backs, and large enough to hold a cow and yoke of oxen. Nothing was hewed except the poles that made the floor, which were flatted on the upper side; and the openings between the logs filled with clay and mortar. The crew now arrived with the bark, when, who should come with them, but Uncle Sam Yelf and Jonathan Smullen! Yelf was seventy, Smullen seventy-five. The old men wanted to share in the clam bake, have a little milk punch, and, above all, to witness the wrestling: they had both been champions of the ring in their day.

All hands, except the carpenters, now joined in putting on the sheets of bark; they were lapped like shingles, and, being four feet in length, were laid with great rapidity.

“There are more of you here than can work to advantage,” said Uncle Isaac; “some of you, dig clams.”

In the mean time the carpenters hung the doors. The hinges and latches were all made of wood. The latch was lifted by a leather string, which was put through a hole in the door above it, and hung down on the outside. Thence came the phrase, “the latch-string out,” to denote open doors and hospitality; since, when it was pulled in there was no entrance.

“What on airth,” said Uncle Isaac, “has become of Sam Atkins? I haven’t set eyes on him this whole forenoon.”

While the rest were preparing for the clam bake, he went everywhere looking for Sam. A great fire was now built in the hollow of a ledge, till the rocks were red hot. Into this were put the clams, together with eggs, potatoes, and corn with the husk on; the whole was then covered with sea-weed, to keep in the steam while they were cooking.

There was a short log left in the building of the house, and, in order to pass the time away, while waiting for the dinner, they dug it out, and made a hog’s trough: thus Ben’s first article of furniture was a hog’s trough.

The clams formed the first course; eggs, corn, apples, and cheese, the second; concluding with milk punch, which passed from hand to hand in a tin quart.

If ever there was real enjoyment, it was to be found among that frolicsome throng of young men, conscious that they had done a noble act, and, in aiding a neighbor, had found the purest happiness for themselves.