Old Stories 251
or a pitchfork, perchance. These attacks sometimes drove Tim from home; but, after a few days’ absence, necessity would bring him back again. At last, however, he disappeared, and was seen no more; and a little later the Felts moved West.
In building the New Haven and Northampton canal, a great deal of limestone was used. On Mr. Felt’s farm was a ledge of this rock, and the company soon had a quarry there. The overseer was a rough, ill-tempered fellow; and it was not long before he had trouble with his workmen, and they all left him. That brought work to a standstill, and the overseer was at his wit’s end to find some way out of his difficulty.
One night, shortly after the men left, the overseer, on his way home from the corner store, quite late, saw a dark figure standing on the limestone ledge, outlined against the sky. The overseer stood still, his frightened gaze riveted on the stranger. Presently he broke the silence by asking, “Who are you? and what is your business?”
The spectre replied, “My name is Timothy Felt, and my bones are under
