My Valley
Games
Make-believe was one of our favorites. Many were the exciting scenes we could devise out of our own minds, many were the elaborate wardrobes designed and worn, the wonderful journeys taken and the grand parties given at which we met people of other nationalities and spoke to them in their own language, danced with fine looking men, ate delectable food, rode in fine carriages. In short we lived in quite another realm; Mongaup Valley was far from our thoughts. I for one never wanted to go home and never did until Aunt Mary called. From an older girl, Grace Hoffman who came from New York to visit at the Purdy's we learned many singing games, "The Old Woman from Newfoundland" being our favorite as I recall.
I had no end of cats to play with but they were usually kept at the
big old red barn across the road, only one or two being allowed at the house. The chief
live pet was Pilot who was only a mutt, but smart as a tack. He was one of a litter at
John Daudt's the shoemaker and Uncle Howard picked him out because of his fighting
qualities-always growling with the other pups over a bone or getting into a scrap somehow.
He paid 50 cents for Pilot and what a playmate he was! He would chase me all about the big
kitchen snapping at my fat legs until in great panic I would jump up on the old black
leather couch where he could not reach me, but this was not for long as he grew
tremendously fast and soon could jump on the couch as easily as I, but by this time spring
had opened up and we had the whole outdoors to run about in.
Hoop-rolling too was a fine pastime and in this Pilot had his share of fun. Whenever I picked up my hoop to go rolling off down the road, my little dog Pilot would grab an old barrel hoop in his teeth and throwing it back over his shoulders until it rested on his rump or tail, would run along with me. Nobody taught Pilot this, he just learned it himself. If my hoop struck a stone and fell flat, Pilot would drop his I hoop to the ground and standing within the circle wait for me to pick up, then would grab his hoop and off we would go together again. This was repeated many times. Pilot and I never quarreled but with all his intelligence it is a wonder we did not. He seemed to know everything I said to him. One evening after supper as Aunt Mary and I were washing the dishes, Pilot lay on the kitchen floor right in our path to the pantry when Aunt Mary said in the most casual voice, not even speaking his name, "If you don't get up I'll step on you." Without waiting a minute Pilot got up and walked away. Smart doggie! He made the cats scurry around and they, to get rid of him, would scamper up the old Belle Flower apple tree by the back porch. The trunk was bent at quite an angle and one day in his excitement Pilot ran up the trunk clear into the branches and had to be rescued. He developed into a homely little stub and twist dog-short legs and a bristly rough yellow coat. He had a brother that was quite a handsome fellow-looked like a terrier with silky long coat and hair all over his eyes and with whom he never failed to pick a fight when they met. Pilot had the ability to roll back his upper lip and show his teeth when he was pleased and once after a bloody bout with his brother dog, came to the house limping and wagging his tail and "laughing" in quite a human manner. In the end Pilot's fighting spirit was his undoing, for, after I had left home, he picked a fight with a mad dog, got bitten and had to be shot.
Hardly before the winter snow melted, there appeared in the woods back of our house a beautiful green spot called the clearing, made so by an overflowing spring gushing out from under a rock which was in great contrast to the brown wintry garment of nearby woods and fields. Here one could stoop and guzzle up delicious draughts of clear, cold water just as it came from the rock. I used to compare this with Moses' rock which he struck with his rod to give water to the Children of Israel.
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