says he . ` Everybody in the Bible slept with their fathers . ' As for the questions he asks , the minister himself could n't answer them . They fair swamp me . ` Uncle Jim , if I was n't ME who 'd I be ? ' and , ` Uncle Jim , what would happen if God died ? ' He fired them two off at me tonight , afore he went to sleep . As for his imagination , it sails away from everything . He makes up the most remarkable yarns -- and then his mother shuts him up in the closet for telling stories . And he sits down and makes up another one , and has it ready to relate to her when she lets him out . He had one for me when he come down tonight . ` Uncle Jim , ' says he , solemn as a tombstone , ' I had a ` venture in the Glen today . ' ` Yes , what was it ? ' says I , expecting something quite startling , but nowise prepared for what I really got . ' I met a wolf in the street , ' says he , ' a ` normous wolf with a big , red mouf and AWFUL long teeth , Uncle Jim . ' ' I did n't know there was any wolves up at the Glen , ' says I. ` Oh , he comed there from far , far away , ' says Joe , ` and I fought he was going to eat me up , Uncle Jim . ' ` Were you scared ? ' says I. ` No , 'cause I had a big gun , ' says Joe , ` and I shot the wolf dead , Uncle Jim , -- solid dead -- and then he went up to heaven and bit God , ' says he . Well , I was fair staggered , Mistress Blythe . '' The hours bloomed into mirth around the driftwood fire .
Captain Jim told tales , and Marshall Elliott sang old Scotch ballads in a fine tenor voice ; finally Captain XXXXX took down his old brown fiddle from the wall and began to play .
Blythe Glen God Jim Joe everything fire hours imagination mouf