The St. Nicholas anthology 9780517420829

Table of contents :
Frontmatter
POEM (Montrose J. Moses, page v)
INTRODUCTION (May Lamberton Becker, page xvii)
PREFACE (Henry Steele Commager, page xxi)
A STORY ABOUT ANCESTORS (Dorothy Canfield ILLUSTRATED BY BERGER, page 3)
THE PETERKINS CELEBRATE THE FOURTH OF JULY (Lucretia P. Hale, page 12)
THE SOLDIERING OF BENIAH STIDHAM (Howard Pyle ILLUSTRATED BY HOWARD PYLE, page 17)
THE GRIFFIN AND THE MINOR CANON (Frank R. Stockton, page 24)
DADDY JAKE, THE RUNAWAY (Joel Chandler Harris ILLUSTRATED BY E. W. KEMBLE, page 34)
BUFFALO HUNTING (Theodore Roosevelt ILLUSTRATED BY FREDERIC REMINGTON, page 57)
HOW A STREET-CAR CAME IN A STOCKING (Harriet Allen ILLUSTRATED BY C. RELYEA, page 66)
THE CITY CHILD (Alfred Tennyson MUSIC BY MRS. ALFRED TENNYSON, page 73)
CHARLES DICKENS: THE BOY OF THE LONDON STREETS (Rupert Sargent Holland, page 74)
THE REEF (Samuel Scoville, Jr., page 78)
THE ROWENA O'TOOLE COMPANY (Ellis Parker Butler ILLUSTRATED BY R. KIRBY, page 85)
HOW SANTA CLAUS FOUND THE POOR-HOUSE (Sophie Swett, page 90)
TOM SAWYER AND HIS BAND (Albert Bigelow Paine ILLUSTRATED BY E.F. WARD, page 97)
THE TRIAL IN TOM BELCHER'S STORE (Samuel A. Derieux ILLUSTRATED BY HERMAN PALMER, page 102)
KING TRISANKU (Henry W. Longfellow, page 112)
DANNY AND THE "MAJOR" (Gertrude P. Greble ILLUSTRATED BY MAX F. KLEPPER, page 113)
THE PROFESSOR AND THE PATAGONIAN GIANT (Tudor Jenks ILLUSTRATED BY E. B. BENSALE, page 128)
THE POTTED PRINCESS (Rudyard Kipling, page 133)
THE BUTTER BETTY BOUGHT (Anonymous, page 137)
THE BROWNIES' RETURN (Palmer Cox ILLUSTRATED BY PALMER COX, page 138)
LEONARD'S ENGLISH CHRISTMAS (Alice Hegan Rice ILLUSTRATED BY NORMAN PRICE, page 143)
DREAM MARCH OF THE CHILDREN (James Whitcomb Riley ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE VARIAN, page 151)
A LITTLE CONTRABAND (Charles McIlvaine ILLUSTRATED BY FLORENCE TABER, page 153)
WHEN THOMAS TAKES HIS PEN (Elsie Hill, page 161)
BABY SYLVESTER (Bret Harte, page 164)
THE BLACK SHEEP'S COAT (Cornelia Meigs, page 174)
BILL MAYES' GREAT DISCOVERY (Ralph Henry Barbour, page 186)
A RACE WITH IDAHO ROBBERS (Joaquin Miller ILLUSTRATED BY FREDERIC REMINGTON, page 196)
MAUDIE TOM, JOCKEY (Gladys Hasty Carroll, page 201)
THE LITTLE ELF (John Kendrick Bangs, page 206)
THE CREW OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG (Sophie Swett, page 207)
TABLE MANNERS (Gelett Burgess, page 217)
KIN TO THE WOODS: A STORY OF THE TENNESSEE CUMBERLANDS (Maristan Chapman, page 218)
BASS COVE SKETCHES (J. T. Trowbridge)
FLAPJACK (Carter Hamilton ILLUSTRATED BY I. W. TABER, page 241)
KEEPING HOUSE (Laura Ingalls Wilder ILLUSTRATED BY BERGER, page 247)
PINKEY PERKINS: "JUST A BOY" (Captain Harold Hammond, U.S.A., page 254)
A GOURD FIDDLE (Grace MacGowan Cooke ILLUSTRATED BY C. T. HILL, page 261)
THE STORY OF A PROVERB (Sidney Lanier, page 271)
RUMPTY-DUDGET'S TOWER (A FAIRY TALE) (Julian Hawthorne, page 276)
THE OLD LADY FROM DOVER (Carolyn Wells, page 290)
ILLUSTRATIONS: painted by Arthur Rackham
"RING A RING O' ROSES" (page 291)
"BYE, BABY BUNTING" (page 292)
"THE LITTLE PEOPLE'S MARKET" (page 293)
"RAIN, RAIN, GO AWAY!" (page 294)
"HARK, HARK, THE DOGS DO BARK!" (page 295)
JACK SPRAT AND HIS WIFE (page 296)
"THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN LIVED UNDER A HILL" (page 297)
THANKSGIVING SNOW-SHOES (Ben Ames Williams ILLUSTRATED BY RALPH P. COLEMAN, page 298)
THE GRANDILOQUENT GOAT (Carolyn Wells, page 305)
"BRIN" (Dr. Wilfred T. Grenfell ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE VARIAN, page 306)
CASPERL (H. C. Bunner, page 313)
AMONG THE BUFFALOES (Noah Brooks, page 318)
THE DICKEY BOY (Mary E. Wilkins ILLUSTRATED BY G.W. EDWARDS, page 325)
A GREAT SPECULATION (Rossiter Johnson, page 333)
A RUNAWAY TRAIN (F. Lovell Coombs, page 341)
SNAGGLE-TOOTH OF SUNKEN LAKE (David M. Newell ILLUSTRATED BY DAVID M. NEWELL, page 346)
THE WRONG COAT (Rose Terry Cooke, page 352)
RICHARD CARR'S BABY (Richard H. Davis ILLUSTRATED BY W. A. ROGERS, page 357)
CHRONICLES OF THE MOLBOS (ILLUSTRATED BY F. BEARD, page 362)
FO'C'SLE AND WIGWAM (Henry Morton Robinson ILLUSTRATED BY M. J. GALLAGHER, page 364)
A FUNNY LITTLE SCHOOL (Ruth McEnery Stuart ILLUSTRATED BY E. POTTHAST, page 371)
MALSCHICK (Leon W. Dean ILLUSTRATED BY JOSEPH MATURO, page 379)
MORE THAN CONQUERORS: THE TORCH-BEARER OF THE DARK CONTINENT (Ariadne Gilbert ILLUSTRATED BY O. F. SCHMIDT, page 387)
"AS WE FORGIVE THOSE" (T. Morris Longstreth, page 395)
WHERE THE BUFFALOES BEGIN (Olaf Baker ILLUSTRATED BY PAUL BRANSON, page 405)
THE CROCODILE (Oliver Herford, page 410)
MY GRANDMOTHER'S GRANDMOTHER'S CHRISTMAS CANDLE (Hezekiah Butterworth, page 411)
TO REPEL BOARDERS (Jack London, page 418)
THE THREE BRASS PENNIES (Augusta Huiell Seaman ILLUSTRATED BY BERGER, page 422)
PUZZLED (Carolyn Wells, page 427)
WITH THE BLACK PRINCE (William O. Stoddard, page 428)
SARA CREWE; OR, WHAT HAPPENED AT MISS MINCHIN'S (Francis Hodgson Burnett ILLUSTRATED BY R. BIRCH, page 436)
AN OLD-FASHIONED THANKSGIVING (Louisa M. Alcott ILLUSTRATED BY E. BOOKHOUT, SR., page 464)
GRIZEL COCHRANE'S RIDE (Elia W. Peattie, page 476)
THE CROW-CHILD (Mary Mapes Dodge, page 484)
THE AFFAIR OF THE "SANDPIPER" (Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, page 489)
FREDDY LOW TAKES THE WHEEL (Cornelius Brett Boocock, page 497)
NOT SO BLACK AS HIS FEATHERS (Dallas Lore Sharp ILLUSTRATED BY R. BRUCE HORSFALL, page 502)
THE FIND (Orville W. Mosher, Jr. ILLUSTRATED BY ENOS B. COMSTOCK, page 507)
THE SENSITIVE CAT (Alice Brown, page 514)
YOUNG ABEL YANCEY (Archibald Rutledge ILLUSTRATED BY GEORGE VARIAN, page 515)
CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY (W. D. Howells, page 520)
THE MAJOR'S BIG-TALK STORIES: CHASED BY A HOOP SNAKE (F. Blake Crofton, page 525)
A SPELLING SPAT (Nancy Byrd Turner, page 526)
ST. NICHOLAS LEAGUE
FRIENDS (E. Vincent Millay (Honor Member, age 17), page 528)
THE DIARY OF A DRAGON (Morris G. Bishop (Honor Member, age 11), page 528)
MY FAIRY-BOOK PRINCE (Margaret Widdemer (age 16), page 529)
A PATRIOT (Robert Hillyer (age 13), page 529)
IN THE TWILIGHT (Eudora Welty (age 15), page 530)
MYSTERY (Stephen Vincent Benét (age 15), page 530)
THE FROZEN BROOK (Stella Benson (age 13), page 530)
HOME, TO PENELOPE (Bruce T. Simonds (age 15), page 530)
VACATION SONG (E. Vincent Millay (age 15), page 531)
THE VOICE OF THE CITY ((A symphony) John C. Farrar (age 17), page 531)
VACATION DOWN SOUTH (E. Babette Deutsch (age 11), page 532)
GRATITUDE (Cornelia Otis Skinner (age 11), page 532)
IN JUNE-TIME (William R. Benét (age 16), page 532)
WHEN SWALLOWS BUILD (Corey H. Ford (age 14), page 533)
WHERE DO THE FAIRIES MEET? (Jessica Nelson North (age 13), page 533)
A WINTER WALK (Rachel Lyman Field (age 16), page 533)
A SONG OF SUMMER (Sterling North (age 8), page 534)
A SONG OF THE WOODS (Stephen Vincent Benét (age 13), page 534)
MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN FICTION ((Illustrated story) Anne L. Parrish (age 14), page 534)
FOUR CHARADES (C.P. Cranch, page 536)
EIGHT CHARADES, DONE UP IN RHYME, FOR LAD AND LASS AT CANDLE-TIME (Ralph Henry Barbour, page 538)
RIDDLE BOX
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA (G. F. Babcock, page 539)
ANAGRAM (page 539)
DOUBLE-ACROSTIC (Elinor Lothrop Daniels, page 539)
CONNECTED SQUARES (Florence and Edna, page 539)
DIAMOND (Jennie N. Child, page 539)
ILLUSTRATED PRIMAL ACROSTIC (page 540)
AN "AGED" PUZZLE (Helen A. Sibley, page 540)
OBLIQUE RECTANGLE (George Linwood Hosea, page 541)
THE MAGIC LETTERS (Maurice P. Dunlap, page 541)
M.M.D. (Josephine Daskam Bacon, page 542)

Citation preview

THE ST. NICHOLAS ANTHOLOGY

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imMy came to the door of the living- grandfather clock a bag of pop-corn a bottle room and stopped short, looking very of ink a yellow and blak and red stone

cross to see that his mother had a good bye mother

caller. He did n’t look so cross 4s his mother from Jimmy

felt, for the caller was an old gentleman His mother read it and raised her eye-

she. had never seen before, who . at the old gentleman whom ; brows. Jimmy looked said dhetowas a distant cousin, and who d sighed. I lain h ‘shed h Gnd I about the; ,. and sighed. It was plain he wished he ; could do something more than sigh. So di

grandfathers. He seemed to think they his mother were very important, but Jimmy's mother “A fine ‘little chap,” said the gentle-

of his face. .

did n’t, and she was wishing very much he man ,

would go away and ask somebody else. Jimmy shuddered and went away. | my wished so too, from the expression But not far. For at the very instant when Then he went away and his mother the old gentleman was saying good-by at

_ wey . the Jimmy’s mother felt herself heard the typewriter in door, her study tapping ; clutched from behind. slowly. When he came back, he went into “Now!” said Jiramy. “Let’s beat it.” the room, endured being introduced to the So the did. off oro the pine woo ds

old gentleman, did not squirm fl dn’t bi . . where theyand couldn’t be seentooby| idany more

visibly when the caller said that the shape i] of his head was like that of one of his “.. ; . les’. He had a 0; ¢ . aBut still they could n’t seem to get ridby of great uncles’. He had piece ofideas. paper inPerhaps 0 4 sad bhthey bi ., the old gentleman’s and as soon as he could, heJimmy laid . had .is. ,;hand, had slipped into the story when it on his mother’s lap and looked at her laid the paper on his mother’s la

hopefully. On it he had written: “Te pep , rae P. It’s funny,” he said, “and you may not

dear mother like it very well; but this very story is about

3|

will you please tell me a made- your great-grandfather and your grandto-order stoy about a ironing-bord, a big father.”

4 DOROTHY CANFIELD Jimmy looked alarmed. bottle. And all night long the spilled ink “But there ’s a skunk in it,” said his had been soaking into the nice, clean,

mother. freshly copied pages of Grandfather’s “Oh, that’s all right then,” said Jimmy. speech!

“Go ahead.” “It began rather a long time ago, maybe

forty-five years ago, when my grandfather ‘

(that’s your great-grandfather) was asked LT a

to make an address before a big meeting of 1G | teachers down in Massachusetts. He was \. red | a very careful man who believed in getting JAG: | a everything ready beforehand, and he { \ MV \ 4 i started in at once to make ready for this. an | Wee ei

. . a NL Me th

He had his best suit cleaned, bought him- el c (C2 2 ail

self a fresh necktie, wrote his speech all ii (AG Ze out, then copied it; more than a week be- % i L Mit fore the day he had spoken to the livery- as ee te > stable man about driving him to the train. Se am = For there were n’t many trains a day, forty- — .

five years ago, and to get to his meeting on “The cat had tipped it over.” time, he ’d have to be driven fifteen miles to a junction where he could catch a train

going south. “It was too late to do anything about it, “The morning in September when he for Patrick, the livery-stable man, had just was to start was lovely and sunny. He got driven up to the door. There was n’t even

a beautiful do-up on his necktie, and his time to say anything about it, although | coffee was just as he liked it. But right Grandfather had plenty he could have said.

| there his good luck stopped, for when he He just ground his teeth together hard, went into his study to get his clean-copied crammed his hat on over his eyes, and speech, he saw something dreadful. He had _ snatched up the rough notes for his speech.

left the sheets all spread around, so the They were rather scribbly, and written ink would dry well, and to hold them crisscross of the paper and he had n't down, he had put on them a large oval wanted to try to read them before an audipaper-weight of onyx which somebody had ence; but there wasn’t anything else he brought him as a present from the Holy could do now. He was lucky, in fact, that

Land—the way they do to ministers.” he had happened to put them on a shelf,

“What ’s onyx?” asked Jimmy. and not on the table with his clean “It ’s a shiny sort of stone, red and yel- copy.

low and black, that ’s used for paper- “He felt a little better after an hour’s

weights,” said his mother. driving, for two reasons. For one, the “Oh, yes,” said Jimmy; “teacher has one _ livery-stable man was rather fresh from

on her desk. I did n’t know what its name Irelarid and had a lovely brogue that was. What was the matter with this one?” tickled Grandfather to hear, and he called ‘Matter enough. The cat had been play- Grandfather ‘Your Reverence,’ just like

ing with it, and had tipped it over against somebody in a story. And then he had the ink-bottle, and knocked over the ink- turned out with his best outfit, the fast

A STORY ABOUT ANCESTORS 5 team of trotters, and his elegant new light “Patrick was just as ready to stop as anywagon, the finest in town, with tan-colored body. He had n’t been in America very

velvet cushions and bright red wheels. long, but plenty long enough to learn a Grandfather never cared anything about good deal about skunks. putting on style, but he always liked a good “ “Are n’t they bold!’ said Grandfather, horse, and he did enjoy dusting along the surprised to see one right in the middle of road after those two sorrel spankers, heads _ the road.

up, tails flying, hoofs beating time together ““There is n’t a thing for them to fear,’

like a drummer rattling out a double- said Patrick, bitterly. quick tattoo. Patrick was proud of them, ““Look—there ’s another, just coming and every time they went through a village out of the bushes,’ said Grandfather. he’d brisk his pair up to their fastest trot. ““T'wo more,’ said Patrick, standing up Then he and Grandfather would put their in the wagon, to see better. ‘A family of heads together and pretend to be talking them, your Reverence,’ he went on, sitting

and not thinking a thing about their fast down hard. horses, although, as a matter of fact, they “Sure enough, it was a mother skunk were very much put out if people did n’t with five young ones, half-grown, about turn their heads to look after them as they as big as sizable kittens. And they were

went spinning through. surely out for a good time. The mother “In between villages, where there was n’t_ lay down spang in the middle of the road

anybody to see them, they often let the in the soft dust and spread out her legs horses walk, and as they began to go down comfortably, while the young ones began hill into Ransom’s ravine, Patrick put the _ to play, frolicking up and down the bridge

brake on and looked ahead sharply. The and jumping at each other in and out of road was very rough and stony there, and, _ the bushes.

after dipping down steeply, led by a nar- “Grandfather looked at Patrick. And row bridge across a deep, black crack in Patrick looked at Grandfather. Then the rocks, with a little mountain stream Grandfather looked at his watch. rushing and shouting at the bottom. It “‘Is there any way round?’ he asked. was something like a cafion in your geog- “ “No, your Reverence, not unless you go

raphy book, only not so wide and deep. back ten miles to Bowley’s cross-roads. Plenty deep enough, though, for all drivers This is the only bridge over the ravine be-

to want to keep their wits about them tween here and Pentonsville.’

when they crossed the bridge. “ “You don’t say sol!’ said Grandfather, “They were still a good way from it, rather put out with Patrick. when they made out somcthing black and “They waited a minute or two. Then white ahead of them, just going on to the Grandfather said: ‘Come, come, this will

bridge. never do! Let ’s drive up nearer and throw “ “That can’t be a—’ said Patrick, shad- stones at them.’

ing his eyes with nis hand, for the bushes “ “Never in this world,’ said Patrick. were thick on each side of the road, just ‘My wagon cost me seventy-five dollars,

there, and the road was in shadow. and it ’s not a nickel it would be worth " “Yes, it is too,’ said Grandfather, put- if we got the creatures’ bad feelings ting his hand out on the reins in a hurry. — stirred up. In fact, we ’re a little too near ‘Don’t you go a step nearer till he gets outright now to please me.’

of the way.’ “Well,” said Grandfather ‘I ‘ll hold

6 DOROTHY CANFIELD the horses. You go along on foot and ‘but don’t you yell a yell, your Reverence,

throw stones.’ till I get my team farther away. The very ““Saving your presence,’ said Patrick, harness would be no good to me if any‘I had a brother once threw a stone at thing should happen.’ a skunk. One is enough for one family.’ “He backed the horses up the road a ““Nonsense!’ said Grandfather; ‘it little and then said: ‘Well, we might try it. would be perfectly safe from as far as you But not very loud if you please, sir. It could throw a stone. Go along with you.’ might not be to her taste.’

““You mever came near my _ poor “Tt would n’t be any use unless it was brother right after he did it,’ said Pat- loud,’ said Grandfather. rick; ‘but, if you like, I ‘ll hold the horses “Tt ’s not'your wagon,’ said Patrick, get-

and you can try it yourself.’ ting angry.

“Now Grandfather could throw a stone “ Tt’s my best suit of clothes,’ said Grandas far as the next man, and he did n't father, angry himself, ‘and you have promreally believe that he would come to any ised to get me to the junction in time for harm. But all the same, it would be pretty that train.’ serious if he did. He had often caught the “Well, here goes,’ said Patrick, and he scent of skunk from half a mile away, and said in rather a loudish voice, ‘Get off wid it scared him to think what it might be, yel Whey! Whey!’ the way you ’d talk to close to. Besides, it would n’t have to be a cow in the cabbages. very bad, to be plenty bad enough to keep “ “Oh, you ‘Il never get anywhere with him from making his speech. He had a_ that sort of business!’ said Grandfather, picture of himself standing up on the plat- crossly. He stood up in the wagon to get form, with ever so slight an odor of skunk the good of his lungs and drew a deep floating out from him over the audience. breath and began to yell like an Indian or

And he knew it would n’t do. a stuck pig, at the top of his voice. He “No, we “ll wait a while, he said to was noted for the loudness of his voice,

Patrick; ‘she can’t stay there much longer.’ too. They used to come from all around to “But she did. The spot just suited her, get him to address open-air meetings, beso soft and quiet, and with plenty of hide- cause he could be heard from so far. He was and-seek places for the children. You could very cross indeed, by this time, and he’‘let see how she was enjoying it. She stretched himself go, whooping and howling and

out one leg and then another, turned over, bellowing till he was black in the face. rolled, sat up and scratched, and then He noticed after a while that Patrick was started in to wash herself from head to n’t helping any, and glanced down to see foot, just like a cat in front of the kitchen why. There was Patrick, doubled over the

stove. arm of the seat, nearly dead with laughing.

“Grandfather and Patrick gave a groan. “Grandfather stopped yelling and looked And Patrick just gave up. It was plain to _ at Patrick coldly. Patrick was ashamed of see that he could n’t think of anything to himself; but he could n’t stop.

do but sit there and wait. Grandfather did “can’t help it, your Reverence,’ he n’t believe in giving up, ever. So he cast said, giggling and wiping his eyes. ‘It’s like

around in his mind and hit on an idea. as if you were making a speech to the “‘Maybe we can scare them away by _ beasts, or preaching them a sermon, and yelling and shouting,’ he suggested. they listening as pleased as any old woman “ ‘Maybe,’ said Patrick, looking uneasy; in her pew.’

A STORY ABOUT ANCESTORS 7 “Ags a matter of fact, the skunks had n’t and Grandfather, so mad at the man they objected at all to Grandfather’s noise. The forgot to be mad at each other.

mother had turned her head toward him, “‘Do rr yoursetF!’ shouted Patrick.

and two of the young ones had stopped “Do wat?’ asked the man. playing, but they showed no signs of think- _—_“ ‘For goodness’ sake!’ said Grandfather, ing his hullabaloo disagreeable. Somebody _ too exasperated to live. ‘Then he raised his

told Grandfather afterward that skunks voice and shouted, “THRow sOME STONES

are often quite deaf. AT THEM!’

“Grandfather was so angry with Patrick ““T passENT,’ yelled back the man; ‘coT and with the skunks and with himself by soME VALLYBLE ANTIQUES IN MY WAGON.’ this time, that I’m sure I don’t know what “‘Gret OUT ON FOOT AND THROW STONES,

would have happened if at that very min- shouted Patrick. ute they had n’t seen, far away on the other “ “Nor on your uiFE!’ yelled the man.

side of the skunks, a pair of horses come “‘Some people are too selfish for this into sight where the road goes over the world!’ said Patrick to Grandfather indigbrow of the hill. Behind the horses was nantly. He turned his back, as far as he a lumber-wagon, with a canvas cover could, on the skunks and the lJumberthrown over some bulky-looking objects. wagon and the man and the boy, and But the load could n’t have been heavy, lighted his little short pipe. “We'll just be for the horses came along at a good trot. waiting,’ he said to Grandfather, ‘for there

They did, that is, till they came near ’s nothing else to do.’ enough to see the black-and-white animals “So they waited. Grandfather held his playing around in the road. Then the watch in his hand, watching the seconddriver stopped so short that the wagon al- hand going around faster and faster. The most shoved the horses off their feet from horses stamped and switched their tails

behind. against the flies, and tossed their heads till “Patrick burst out laughing again, and Patrick got out and undid the check-reins. this time Grandfather laughed with him. “Over in the lumber-wagon, Grandfather Not a good loud ha! ha! for he was still could see the little boy talking and talking hot and angry, but a little grunt of alaugh to the man, and he wondered what the he could n’t keep back. They saw the driver child could find to say that took so long. and a little boy in the seat of the lumber- By and by, he saw the little boy get out of wagon peering down the road, shading the wagon and disappear in the bushes;

their eyes with their hands. and a few minutes later, to their great

“ “ARE—THOSE—SKUNKS?’ shouted the astonishment, he came out of the woods

man to Grandfather and Patrick. He was beside the road, where Grandfather and so far away that they could only just catch Patrick sat waiting. what he said, although he was evidently “ “How ’d you get there?’ they asked. ‘Is

yelling as loud as he could. there another bridge over the ravine?’ “*AND WHAT ELSE?’ yelled Patrick back “ “No, but there ’s a narrow place where

at him. the rocks come pretty close together, and “The man stared at the animals harder a tree ’s fallen across,’ he told them. ‘I had for a moment, as if to be sure, and then an idea, and it was too long to yell at you, yelled, ‘WHy pDon’r You DO sOMETHING so I came around to tell you.’

ABOUT IT?’ “ “Well, what ’s your idea?’ asked Grand“*Well, the nerve of him!’ said Patrick father, thinking it could n’t amount to

8 DOROTHY CANFIELD , much. ironing-board and two of the chairs. He | “The little boy began. ‘Old Judge Pell- laid down the board and it was just long |

sew is going to move out West, to live with enough. The little boy had to steady it | his married dauyhter, and before he left with his foot as Patrick ran across it and | he asked my father to take some of his old grabbed the two chairs. Then the man family relics up to his niece’s house in rushed back to his wagon and brought the Arlington, and that ’s where we are going. clock along, Grandfather helping carry it It ’s mostly a grandfather’s clock, and a across the board. They got it into Patrick's

few chairs.’ wagon, and set it up in the front seat, and “Well, said Grandfather, very short, ‘I tied it in with the hitch-ropes. They then

don’t see what that ’s got to do with me.I all tore back to the narrow place and must be at the junction in time for the skipped across the ironing-board, all but

eleven forty-five train south.’ Patrick, who stooped over to pick it up. “We live at the junction,’ said the lit- But it was heavier than he thought, and tle boy, ‘so how would this do? We ’ll - slipped right out of his hands and went carry the things out into the woods, up the falling down and down into the ravine.

ravine, to the narrow place where I crossed, s and you come there to help us get them eo , across, and load them into your wagon. ioe mu Then your team can turn around and Mig "ig carry to Arlington, mS f we ‘llthe turnantiques around back and carry you backand to eben

the junction.’ : (pr

“I don’t see myself,’ said Grandfather, yo - Ne who must have been sixty years old then, i a ae

‘I don’t see myself carrying one end of a PA ae \W\g

grandfather’s clock and walking along a y

fallen tree over a thirty-foot drop.’ 7 < \

“ ‘Oh, that ’ll be all right, said the little Shr See os. si@ey boy. ‘One of the things we have is an AG . , oh ee Ne Sp ironing-board, an extra long one, and we as | ) “posit Uz if (2 ! can lay that down for a bridge. Then the - Fan Wap} ee 4 oF last fellow across can pull it over and take 4 ty | A | ea | Le

it along.” ae a) t eee & i It might be worth trying,’ said Grand- (4 Wa PEERY, AC y ane Ai i

father, doubtfully. 3.5 rae ni oe { P \ if “The little boy put his hands up to his Hh i hl gee 4 ae ' tone mouth and yelled to his father, “’S arr & 4 ARE ff Mle fe MW ee |

ricut!’ and they saw the man get out of yah. pe eg ce the wagon at once and begin to unload the tlt ieee ae 7 (| if ae i ae things from the back. iit ARE a i ff 1s pork (yo P | “Patrick tied his horses and they hur- ‘ i Ni aa A MM ee i 4

Patric | BAe: at

ried off into the woods after the little boy, ili aa lh if, LY for they had n’t a minute to lose. The man wha eh i Hp, fs was already at the narrow place with the .,. djather helped ~\ carry it across the board”

A STORY ABOUT ANCESTORS 9 Patrick looked scared, but the man called train a day in those days. No, it was the to him, ‘Never mind! ’T wa’n’t one of right train all right. But half-way there, he the antiques!’ And then as Patrick nodded, remembered that he had left the notes for relieved, he added, still shouting over his _ his speech in Patrick’s wagon when he had shoulder as he ran, “The things are to go made the change.”

to Mrs. Pettingill’s, on the West Road.’ “For the land of—” Jimmy was horri“‘T have a brother living on the next fied. “What did he do?” farm to there,’ Patrick shouted back. “They “He did n’t know what to do. And the

‘ll get there all right.’ closer he got to North Adams, the less he

“Grandfather and the man and the little knew. He had been asked to tell them boy piled into the empty lumber-wagon, something about universities in England, the horses were turned around double- and he had looked up lots of dates and quick, and off they started, lickety-split. history and statistics and things, and he Grandfather knew they never could make could n’t possibly remember them out of it. But the man wanted to show that Pat- his head. What ’s more, he was so shaken rick was n’t the only person to have fast up that he could n’t seem to think even

horses, and he kept his on the run for what was the main part of his speech! most of the four miles to the junction. Actually, when he stood upon the platform “At that, they ’d have missed the train and faced his audience, he had n’t thought if it had n’t been a little late. They saw it of a single word to say.”

pulling into the station as they came Jimmy looked miserably worried. He around the turn into the village street, and forgot the whole middle part of his recitathe man let out a yell at his horses. Down tion the last time there was an entertainthe slope they came, slam-banging along, ment at school. So he knew what it was Grandfather holding to his hat with one like. He swallowed, in sympathy. “Well—” hand and to the side of the seat with the “Here is what he did. It came to him, as other. The conductor of the train thought he looked around the crowd and saw how it was a runaway, and stopped to see what friendly they seemed. He just started in at

would happen. And that was what saved the beginning and told them all about Grandfather. They slued up in front of the what had happened—about the kitten that station, the horses lathering white, the played with the paper-weight, and his driv-

wagon swinging over on two wheels, and ing so far to get his train, and the skunks Grandfather fell out, shouting, ‘Hold on! and his yelling at them, and what he said, Hold on! Just a minute!’ I tell you he and what Patrick said. He had intended it could hardly believe it when he actually only as an explanation of why he had n’t found himself sitting in the train, taking his speech ready. But do you know, the out his pocket-book, just like any other audience seemed to think there was some-

passenger, to pay for his ticket.” thing funny about it! They got into such “He must have been feeling just about gales of laughing that he had to stop two all right!” commented Jimmy, and rolled or three times. And when he came to the over from where he lay on the pine-needles. last part, where he scrambled on the train,

His mother looked at him hard and __ they all broke out applauding as if it were

shook her head. Jimmy sat up qickly. the end of a race. “Great Scott, Mother, it was n’t the “By that time Grandfather had his nerve

wrong train!” back again, and when he told them about “No, there was but one south-bound leaving his notes he went on, ‘So I have

IO DOROTHY CANFIELD n’t any speech at all to make. But see here, Jimmy’s mother tried to make this sound

maybe we can make one together. You like the end, but Jimmy cornered her by must have wanted to know about English asking, “Did n’t anybody ever find them?” universities or you would n’t have asked “Well, yes,” she said, “although that part me to talk about them. Suppose you ask does n’t really belong in here. It was queer! me what it was you wanted to know, and Years went by, and Grandfather grew to

I “ll answer your questions?’ be an old, old man, who did n’t make

“And what do you think! It was the speeches any more. Then it was his son, my father, your grandfather, who gave the lectures. And one autumn, about twenty-

SSS ! i) five years after this, he was asked to speak | a AWA | for the Massachusetts teachers. There was

| ii Vi ay Sy n’t anything queer about this, for they meet | MT i {> gr | We FR. every year and always have to have people

i | h 4 EC ACIN lecture them. But while he was still won| | ery NG ® x dering what to talk about, little Alta Brown ol We ie , Vas came up on the front porch, with some old NE HS mi a): Gon ) | yellow papers in her hand. ‘Grandmother a 4 ' Sac, || Oa says to tell you she thinks these must be-

| - if y i, ae long to you,’ she said to your grandfather. leé= bz JEN Nii ‘She had a clock-mender tinker up the

sae Sy WX Si dfather’s RNsclock \Wyyesterday, gran ; yand y>he found

\ \"hyii('siK\\ these in under a sortit of falselike bottom. Ty Grandmother thought tooked your handwriting.’

“He remembered he had left the notes for “And there were the notes, for Alta’s

his speech in Patrick's wagon” grandmother was the Mrs. Pettingill to whom the old clock had gone. Somehow greatest success. Everybody was sort of they ’d been slipped into the clock when it

stirred up about the skunks and was n’t was put in Patrick’s wagon. Maybe the afraid to ask questions. And what they man put them there to make sure they did asked made Grandfather think of the n't blow out, and forgot to say anything things he had planned to say, and they had about it. Grandfather never thought of a lovely time. Grandfather used to say that asking him. In fact, he did n't know his he never spent a better hour with an audi- name and never saw him before or after

ence.” that day.

“I suppose he could use his notes for “Well, my father was a great joker,

another time, too,” said Jimmy, lying down and he thought, just for fun, he would tell

again. the audience down in North Adams the

“No, he never could find them. When _ story of the speech and then read it to them, he went back, he asked Patrick about them, twenty-five years behind-time. He thought of course, but they had n’t been seen. Pat- perhaps it would amuse them. And it did.

rick thought they ’d fallen out on the way He happened to speak in the very same back. Grandfather put a notice in the news- hall where Grandfather had been, and the paper and offered a reward, but nobody — second audience laughed just as hard over

ever paid any attention to it.” those skunks as the first one had. As he

A STORY ABOUT ANCESTORS II talked, an idea came to Father, and when to go up to Arlington with him to help he finished he said, ‘It is quite possible load and umioad those darned old antiques, that, among the older people here to-day, I did n’t even dare ask to stay to go to the there may be some one who was present _ baseball game. I felt pretty sore and mad

twenty-five years ago. It would be very about it, you can imagine, and more and

interesting if so.’ more so as our horses trotted along, faster “Then he stopped, and everybody in the and faster, carrying me farther and farther audience turned his head around to see if from the baseball field. Although I knew anybody stood up. Father had half ex- there was n’t the least hope, I kept on hoppected to see one or two old, old men stand ing, as children will, that something would up. But nobody did. Twenty-five years is happen—an earthquake, a flood, or one of

a long time, after all. the horses dropping dead with heart-fail“But right behind him, on the platform, ure. But although I knew all about them, he now heard somebody laughing, and, and had often played with them when I turning around, saw that it was the young __ was visiting the Penrose boys, I never once

mayor of the city, who was up there to give dreamed that that family of black-andan address of welcome. He did n’t look white cats on the Penrose farm could posmore than forty years old, and could n’t — sibly be of any use in—’ possibly have been a teacher twenty-five “But he never got any farther. The very years before that. But he now stood up minute he said the word ‘cats,’ somebody and came forward to the front of the plat- in the audience snorted and shouted out a form. ‘I was n’t here, on that occasion, he great ‘Haw! haw! And then, like forty said, while everybody held his breath to thousand bunches of firecrackers going off hear what he could possibly have to say; at once, everybody saw what had happened ‘but I was there. I was the little boy who and burst out, just screaming with laugh-

had the idea of using the ironing-board ing. The more they laughed, the more

as a bridge.’ they saw how funny it had been, and that “At this, everybody began to laugh again, made them laugh harder.

and some people clapped their hands. But “My father laughed the hardest of all. he waved his arms to show them that he He used to say afterward that they had to had n’t finished, and went on: ‘And now laugh twenty-five years’ worth, all at once, I’m going to tell you something which I to make up tor the twenty-five years the

have never divulged to a soul from that joke had keep kept dark.” day to this. But before I do, I wish to express a hope that there are plenty of base- Jimmy and his mother got up and strolled ball fans in this audience, people who really back through the orchard toward the appreciate the high importance of baseball.’ house, Jimmy thinking over the story si-

“Everybody stared. What in the world lently, as he likes to do when there has

had baseball to do with that story? been a good deal in it. Finally, “You did

last f th hat d d ” id. “

““Our town team was going to play the n’t say anything about the bag of popgame of the season that day, and I was_ corn,” he said. “But I suppose he bought

crazy to go. But my father was an old- that and ate it on the train, going down.” fashioned farmer, who thought that games “Yes,” said his mother, “I suppose that were all foolishness. So when he said Thad was where the pop-corn came in.”

THE PETERKINS CELEBRATE

THE FOURTH OF JULY by Lucretia P. Hale

HE DAY began early. And how unexpectedly long the five | A compact had been made with the minutes seemed! Elizabeth Eliza was to little boys the evening before. take out her watch and give the signal for They were to be allowed to usher in the _ the end of the five minutes and the ceasing glorious day by the blowing of horns ex- of the horns. Why did not the signal come? actly at sunrise. But they were to blow Why did not Elizabeth Eliza stop them?

them for precisely five minutes only, and And certainly it was long before sunno sound of the horns should be heard rise; there was no dawn to be seen! afterward till the family were down-stairs. “We will not try this plan again,” said It was thought that a peace might thus Mrs. Peterkin. be bought by a short though crowded pe- “If we live to another Fourth,” added

riod of noise. Mr. Peterkin, hastening to the door, to inThe morning came. Even before the quire into the state of affairs. morning, at half-past three o’clock, a ter- Alas! Amanda, by mistake, had waked rible blast of the horns aroused the whole up the little boys an hour too early. And

family. by another mistake the little boys had inMrs. Peterkin clasped her hands to her _ vited three or four of their friends to spend

head and exclaimed: “IJ am thankful the the night with them. Mrs. Peterkin had lady from Philadelphia is not here!” For given them permission to have the boys she had been invited to stay a week, but for the whole day, and they understood the had declined to come before the Fourth of | day as beginning when they went to bed July, as she was not well, and her doctor the night before. This accounted for the

had prescribed quiet. number of horns.

And the number of the horns was most It would have been impossible to hear remarkable! It was as though every cow in any explanation; but the five minutes were

the place had arisen and was blowing over, and the horns had ceased, and there

through both her own horns! remained only the noise of a singular leap“How many little boys are there? How _ ing of feet, explained perhaps by a possible

many have we?” exclaimed Mr. Peterkin, pillow-fight, that kept the family below going over their names one by one mechan- partially awake until the bells and cannon ically, thinking he would do it, as he might made known the dawning of the glorious count imaginary sheep jumping: over a day—the sunrise, or “the rising of the sons,” fence, to put himself to sleep. Alas! the as Mr. Peterkin jocosely called it when they counting could not put him to sleep now heard the little boys and their friends clat-

in such a din. tering down the stairs to begin the outI2

THE PETERKINS CELEBRATE THE FOURTH OF JULY 13

side festivities. She was not sure even about pea-nuts. They were bound first for the swamp, Everybody exclaimed over this: “Surely for Elizabeth Eliza, at the suggestion of there was no danger in pea-nuts!” But the lady from Philadelphia, had advised Mrs. Peterkin declared she had been very them to hang some flags around the pillars much alarmed at the Exhibition, and in of the piazza. Now the little boys knew the crowded corners of the streets in Bosof a place in the swamp where they had __ ton, at the pea-nut stands, where they had been in the habit of digging for “flag-root,” machines to roast the pea-nuts. She did

and where they might find plenty of flag not think it was sate. They might go off flowers. They did bring away all they any time, in the midst of a crowd of peocould, but they were a little out of bloom. ple, too! The boys were in the midst of nailing up Mr. Peterkin thought there actually was all they had on the pillars of the piazza, no danger, and he should be sorry to give when the procession of the Antiques and up the pea-nut. He thought it an AmertHorribles passed along. As the procession can institution, something really belonging saw the festive arrangements on the piazza, to the Fourth of July. He even confessed and the crowd of boys, who cheered them to a quiet pleasure in crushing the empty loudly, it stopped to salute the house with shells with his feet on the sidewalks as he

some especial strains of greeting. went along the streets. Poor Mrs. Peterkin! They were directly Agamemnon thought it a simple joy. under her windows! In the few moments In consideration, however, of the fact of quiet during the boys’ absence from the that they had had no real celebration of house on their visit to the swamp, she had the Fourth the last year, Mrs. Peterkin been trying to find out whether she had had consented to give over the day, this a sick-headache, or whether it was all the year, to the amusement of the family as a noise, and she was just deciding it was the Centennial celebration. She would prepare sick-headache, but was falling into a light herself for a terrible noise—only she did slumber, when the fresh noise outside be- not want any gunpowder brought into the

gan. house.

There were the imitations of the crow- The little boys had begun by firing some

ing of cocks and braying of donkeys, and torpedoes a few days beforehand, that their the sound of horns, encored and increased mother might be used to the sound, and by the cheers of the boys. Then began the had selected their horns some week before. torpedoes, and the Antiques and Horribles Solomon John had been very busy in in-

had Chinese crackers also! venting some fire-works. As Mrs. Peterkin And, in despair of sleep, the family came objected to the use of gunpowder, he

down to breakfast. found out from the dictionary what the Mrs. Peterkin had always been much Cifferent parts of gunpowder are—saltafraid of fire-works, and had never allowed peter, charcoal, and sulphur. Charcoal he

the boys to bring gunpowder into the discovered they had in the wood-house; house. She was even afraid of torpedoes; saltpeter they would find in the cellar, in they looked so much like sugar-plums, the beef-barrel; and sulphur they could buy she was sure some of the children would at the apothecary’s. He explained to his swallow them, and explode before any- mother that these materials had never yet

body knew it. exploded in the house, and she was quieted. She was very timid about other things. Agamemnon, meanwhile, remembered a

I4 LUCRETIA P. HALE recipe he had read somewhere for making And now the noon bells rang and the a “fulminating paste” of iron filings and noon bells ceased. powder of brimstone. He had it written Mrs. Peterkin wanted to ask everybody down on a piece of paper in his pocket- to dinner. She should have some cold beef. book. But the iron filings must be finely She had let Amanda go, because it was powdered. This they began upon a day or the Fourth, and everybody ought to be two before, and, the very afternoon before, free that one day, so she could not have laid out some of the paste on the piazza. much of a dinner. But when she went to Pin-wheels and rockets were contributed cut her beef, she found Solomon John had by Mr. Peterkin for the evening. Accord- taken it to soak, on account of the saltpeter ing to a programme drawn up by Aga- for the fire-works! memnon and Solomon John, the reading Well, they had a pig, so she took a ham, of the Declaration of Independence was to and the boys had bought tamarinds and

take place in the morning on the piazza buns and a cocoa-nut. So the company

under the flags. stayed on, and when the Antiques and The Bromwiches brought over their flag Horribles passed again, they were treated

to hang over the door. to pea-nuts and lemonade.

“That is what the lady from Philadel- They sang patriotic songs, they told stophia meant,” explained Elizabeth Eliza. ries; they fired torpedoes, they frightened “She said flags of our country,” said the the cats with them. It was a warm afterlittle boys. “We thought she meant ‘in the noon; the red poppies were out wide, and

country.’ ” the hot sun poured down on the alleyways Quite a company assembled; but it in the garden. There was a seething sound

seemed nobody had a copy of the Declara- of a hot day in the buzzing of insects, in

tion of Independence. the steaming heat that came up from the Elizabeth Eliza said she could say one ground. Some neighboring boys were firing line, if they each could add as much. But a toy cannon. Every time it went off, Mrs. it proved they all knew the same line that Peterkin started, and looked to see if one

she did, as they began: of the little boys was gone. Mr. Peterkin “When, in the course of—when, in the had set out to find a copy of the “Declaracourse of—when, in the course of human— tion.” Agamemnon had disappeared. She

when, in the course of human events— had not a moment to decide about her

when, in the course of human events, it headache. She asked Ann Maria if she were becomes—when, in the course of human not anxious about the fire-works, and if events, it becomes necessary—when, in the rockets were not dangerous. They went up, course of human events, it becomes neces- but you were never sure where they came

sary for one people——” down.

They could not get any farther. Some of And then came a fresh tumult! All the the party decided that “one people” was fire-engines in town rushed toward them, a good place to stop, and the little boys clanging with bells, men and boys yelling! sent off some fresh torpedoes in honor of They were out for a practice, and for a: the people. But Mr. Peterkin was not satis- Fourth of July show. fied. He invited the assembled party to stay Mrs. Peterkin thought the house was on until sunset, and meanwhile he would find frre, and so did some of the guests. There a copy, and torpedoes were to be saved to was great rushing hither and thither. Some be fired off at the close of every sentence. thought they would better go home, some

THE PETERKINS CELEBRATE THE FOURTH OF JULY 15 thought they would better stay. Mrs. Peter- but now as the sunset bells and cannon bekin hastened into the house to save herself, gan, he returned with a copy, and read it, or see what she could save. Elizabeth Eliza to the pealing of the bells and sounding followed her, first proceeding to collect all of the cannon. Torpedoes and crackers

the pokers and tongs she could find, be- were fired at every pause. Some sweetcause they could be thrown out of the marjoram pots, tin cans filled with crackers window without breaking. She had read which were lighted, went off with great of people who had flung looking-glasses explosions. out of windows by mistake, in the excite- At the most exciting moment, near the ment of the house being on fire, and had __ close of the reading, Agamemnon, with an carried the pokers and tongs carefully into expression of terror, pulled Solomon John

the garden. There was nothing like being aside. prepared. She always had determined to do “I have suddenly remembered where 1] the reverse. So with calmness she told Solo- read about the ‘fulminating paste’ we mon John to take down the looking-glasses. made. It was in the preface to ‘Woodstock,’

But she met with a difficulty,—there were and I have been around to borrow the no pokers and tongs, as they did not use book to read the directions over again, bethem. They had no open fires; Mrs. Peter- cause I was afraid about the ‘paste’ going kin had been afraid of them. So, Elizabeth off. Reap THIs quickLy! and tell me, Where

Eliza took all the pots and kettles up to 1s the fulminating paste?” the upper windows, ready tobe thrown out. Solomon John was busy winding some But where was Mrs. Peterkin? Solomon covers of paper over a little parcel. It con-

John found she had fled to the attic in tained chlorate of potash and sulphur terror. He persuaded her to come down, as- mixed. A friend had told him of the com-

suring her it was the most unsafe place; position. The more thicknesses of paper but she insisted upon stopping to collect you put around it, the louder it would go some bags of old pieces, that nobody would off. You must pound it with a hammer. think of saving from the general wreck, Solomon John felt it must be perfectly she said, unless she did. Alas! this was the safe, as his mother had taken potash for

result of fire-works on Fourth of July! a medicine. As they came downstairs, they heard the He still held the parcel as he read from voices of all the company declaring there Agamemnon’s book: “This paste, when it was no fire—the danger was past. It was has lain together about twenty-six hours, long before Mrs. Peterkin could believe it. will of stsedf take fire, and burn all the They told her the fire company was only sulphur away with a blue flame and a bad out for show, and to celebrate the Fourth smell.” of July. She thought it already too much “Where is the paste?” repeated Solomon

celebrated. John, in terror. Elizabeth Eliza’s kettles and pans had “We made it just twenty-six hours ago,”

come down through the windows with a said Agamemnon. crash, that had only added to the festivities, “We put it on the piazza,” exclaimed

the little boys thought. Solomon John, rapidly recalling the facts, Mr. Peterkin had been about all this time “and it is in front of mother’s feet!”

in search of a copy of the Declaration of He hastened to snatch the paste away Independence. The public library was shut, before it should take fire, flinging aside the and he had to go from house to house; _ packet in his hurry. Agamemnon, jumping

16 LUCRETIA P. HALE upon the piazza at the same moment, trod lost any limbs, though Mrs. Peterkin was upon the paper parcel, which exploded at sure she had seen some flying in the air.

once with the shock, and he fell to the Nobody could understand how, as she ground, while at the same moment the had kept her eyes firmly shut. paste “fulminated” into a blue flame di- No greater accident had occurred than rectly in front of Mrs. Peterkin! the singeing of Solomon John’s nose. But It was a moment of great confusion. there was an unpleasant and terrible odor There were cries and screams. The bells from the “fulminating paste.” were still ringing, the cannon firing, and Mrs. Peterkin was extricated from the Mr. Peterkin had just reached the closing _ lilac-bush. No one knew how she got there.

words: “Our lives, our fortune, and our Indeed, the thundering noise had stunned

sacred honor.” everybody. It had roused the neighborhood “We are all blown up, as I feared we even more than before. Answering exploshould be,” Mrs. Peterkin at length ven- sions came on every side, and though the tured to say, finding herself in a lilac-bush sunset light had not faded away, the little

by the side of the piazza. She scarcely boys hastened to send off rockets under dared to open her eyes to see the scattered cover of the confusion. Solomon John’s

limbs about her. other fire-works would not go. But all felt It was so with all. Even Ann Maria he had done enough. -

Bromwich clutched a pillar of the piazza, Mrs. Peterkin retreated into the parlor,

with closed eyes. deciding she really did have a headache. At length, Mr. Peterkin said, calmly: “Is At times she had to come out when a anybody killed?” rocket went off, to see if it was one of There was no reply. Nobody could tell the little boys. She was exhausted by the whether it was because everybody was adventures of the day, and almost thought killed, or because they were too wounded it could not have been worse if the boys

to answer. It was a great while before had been allowed gunpowder. The disMrs. Peterkin ventured to move. tracted lady was thankful there was likely But the little boys soon shouted with to be but one Centennial Fourth in her joy and cheered the success of Solomon life-time, and declared she should never John’s fire-works, and hoped he had some more keep anything in the house as danmore. One of them had his face blackened _ gerous as saltpetered beef, and she should

by an unexpected cracker, and Elizabeth never venture to take another spoonful of Eliza’s muslin dress was burned here and __ potash.

there. But no one was hurt; no one had

THE SOLDIERING hig

Be nh LNa ow OF BENIAH a Fer Ven MT bese

ty, CH eee, FED STIDHAM sn=yf) 28 sd dade A CPSs 0 Heel ii RN ee TF es 4rn Ri tr sale a Op OLS we es CON eae, er

fy Sich -_-o

ce by Howard Pyle =

HEN you look at a very old man, lower counties and up through Pennsyl-

V V it seems hard to imagine that he ania. At that time Beniah was a big,

was ever once a boy, full of sport awkward, loose-jointed, over-grown lad; and mischief like the boys whom we know he shot up like a weed, and his clothes

nowadays. were always too small for him. His hands

There is a daguerreotype of Beniah — stuck far out from his sleeves. Stidham that was taken about the year They were splay and red, and they were 1850. It is the picture of a very, very old big like his feet. He stuttered when he man, with a bald, bony forehead, and a talked, and everybody laughed at him for face full of wrinkles and furrows. His lips it. are sucked in between his toothless gums, Most people thought that he was slackand his nose is hooked down as though witted, but he was not; he was only very

to meet his lean chin beneath. shy and timid. Sometimes he himself felt In the picture he wears a swallow-tailed that he had as good sense as anybody if coat with a rolling collar and with buttons _ he only had a chance to show it.

that look like brass. The cuffs of his long, These things happened in Delaware, — wrinkled coat-sleeves come down almost which in those days was almost like a part to the knotted knuckles, and one skinny of Pennsylvania. hand rests upon the top of a hooked cane. There was a great deal of excitement in It does not seem possible that he could Wilmington at the time of the beginning of ever have been a boy; but he was—though the trouble in Boston, the hight at Lexingit was away back in the time of the Rev- ton, and the battle at Bunker Hill. There

olutionary War. were enlisted for the war more than twenty He was about fifteen years old at the young fellows from Wilmington and

time of the battle of Brandywine—that Brandywine Hundred; they used to drill was in the year 1777. He was then an ap- every evening in a field at the foot of Prentice in Mr. Connelly’s cooper-shops Quaker Hill, where the Meeting house near Brandywine. His father, Amos Stid- stood and not far from the William Penn ham, kept a tin-store, and sometimes ped- Inn. A good many people—especially the

dled tinware and buckets down in the boys—used to go in the evening to see

| 17

18 HOWARD PYLE them drill. It seemed to Beniah that if he and everybody was anxious and troubled, could only go for a soldier he might stand for there was talk that the enemy would a great deal better chance of getting along bombard the town. You could see the fleet than he had in Wilmington, where every coming up the bay from the hills back of one laughed at him and seemed to think the town—the sails seemed to cover the

that he was lacking in wits. water all over; that was in the afternoon, He had it in his mind a great many times just before supper. That evening a good

to speak to his father about going for a many people left town, and others sent soldier, but he could not quite find cour- their china and silver up into the country age to do so, for he felt almost sure that for safe keeping.

he would be laughed at. After supper the bellman went through

One night he did manage to speak of the streets calling a meeting at the Townit, and when he did, it was just as he hall. Captain Stapler was at home at that thought it would be. It was just after sup- time and spoke to the people. He told per, and they still sat at table, in the kitch- them that there was no danger of the fleet en. He was nervous, and when he began bombarding the town, for the river was two

speaking he stuttered more than usual. miles away, and the cannon could not “I wo-wo-wo-wo-wish you ’d l-let me go carry that far. He showed them that the fer a sis-sis-sis-sis-sis-sis-soldier, Father,” only way that the enemy could approach

said he. the town was up the Christiana River, and His sister Debby burst out laughing. that if the citizens would build a redoubt “A. sis-sis-sis-sis-soldier!” she mocked. at the head of the marsh the place would “A what!” said Beniah’s father. “You a be perfectly defended. soldier? You would make a pretty soldier, The people found a good deal of comfort in what he said; but the next morning the

Pe “Roebuck” and “Liverpool” ships of war Vigor > were seen to be lying, with their tenders rane ls e and two transports, opposite the town; and CE ce, once more all the talk was that they were

ga csi aie ate going to bombard.

Ne “spe alas fo - There was a great deal said that morning

Nig Mes iB at the cooper-shops about all this. Some | Tae - selene opined the ships wereheld certainly going Be. BP me. tothat bombard, but others that what they

Meee A would do would to send a regiment of gh Bee Hessians up thebe creek to burn down the town.

now, would n’t you? Why, you would n't During the morning, old Billy Jester be able to say ‘Who goes there?’ fer stut- came up from Christiana village, and said terin’!” and then Debby laughed again, that the townspeople were building a mud

and when she saw that it made Beniah fort down at the Rocks below the Old

angry, she laughed still more. Swedes’ Church, and that they expected , So Beniah did not go soldiering that time. two cannon and some soldiers to come After the battle of Brandywine, Lord down from Fort Mifflin in the afternoon. Howe’s fleet of war-ships came up into This was a great comfort to everybody, the Delaware from the Chesapeake Bay, for the time.

THE SOLDIERING OF BENIAH STIDHAM 19 About eleven o’clock in the morning the over to look at the cow. He met several enemy suddenly began firing. Boom!—the others going on the same errand—two

sudden startling noise sounded dull and men and three or four boys. There was heavy, like the falling of some great quite a crowd gathered about the place. weight; the windows rattled—boom!— The cow lay on its side, with its neck boom!—boom!—and then again, after a stretched out. There was a great hole in little pause,—boom!—boom! There was a_ its side, made by the cannon-ball, and little while, a few seconds of breathless there was blood upon the ground. It looked listening, and then Tom Pierson, the fore- very dreadful, and seemed to bring terrors

man of the shop, shouted: of war very near; and everybody stood “By gum! they’re bombarding the town!” about and talked in low voices.

Then he dropped his adze, and ran out After he had seen the dead cow, Beniah of the door without waiting to take his hat. went down to where they were building As he ran, there sounded again the same the mud fort. They were just putting the dull, heavy report—boom! boom! cannon into place, and Captain Stapler was There was no more work in the cooper- drilling a company of young men of the

shops that day. Beniah ran all the way town who had enlisted for its defense. home. His father was just then away in Beniah wished that he was one of them. the lower counties, and Beniah did not After the drill was over, Captain Stapler know what was going to happen to Debby came up to him and said: and his mother. Maybe he would find the “Don’t you want to enlist, BeniahP”

house all knocked to pieces with cannon- crue at at again, and Beniah ran faster and faster, his | ea FR A ee

balls. Boom! boom! sounded the cannon “= Y" = Sy

mouth all dry and clammy with fear and sg (is J Gh As ~ 2 6S Gee 7 Pid. 5 a cen

excitement. The streets were full of people : / WX SL ers We to WE -\

hurrying toward the hills. When he got Ry 5 eke A oe ey A re home he found that no harm had hap- » hey See NG pay * pened, but the house was shut and all the Me *s oaks von eee a

doors locked. He met Mrs. Frist, and she a aa } wr Ee BOO. «

told him that his mother and Debby had ~~ pe a gone up to Quaker Hill. RAL eh etch ° He found them there a little while later, Beniah would not have dared to enlist : but by that time the war-ships had stopped if his father had been at home, but his firing, and after a while everybody went father was away, and he signed his name

back home. to the roll-book!

In the afternoon it was known that they That was the way that he came to go had not been firing at the town at all, but soldiering. at some people who had gone down on ..... ee cece etn e nes

the neck to look at them, and whom, no That night Beniah did not go home, for doubt, they took to be militia or something he had to stay with the others who had

of the kind. enlisted. They were quartered at the barn Just before supper it was reported that just back of the mud fort. But he sent one of Jonas Stidham’s cows had been word by Jimmy Rogers that he was not killed by a cannon-ball. Jonas Stidham was coming home, because he had enlisted in Beniah’s uncle, and in the evening he went Captain Stapler’s company.

20 HOWARD PYLE However, Captain Stapler let him go men who were working upon the redoubt home the next morning for a little while. by lantern-light, and of the volunteers at He found that all the boys knew that he their quarters in the barn where they had had enlisted, and that he was great among _ kindled a fire, sounded with perfect clear-

them. He had to tell each one he met all ness and distinctness in the stillness. The about the matter. They all went along tide was coming in, and the water gurgled with him—fifteen or twenty of them—and and rippled in the ditches, where the reeds

waited in the street outside while he was stood stark and stiff in the gloom. The talking with his family within. His mother reed-birds had not yet flown south, and

wees. | ff

had gone out, but his sister Debby was in _ their sleepy “cheep, cheeping” sounded in-

the kitchen. cessantly through the darkness. The moon was about rising, and the sky, 7. sy, rn ti to the east, was lit with a milky paleness. eS ede Toward it the marsh stretched away into

nes . abit ab, he the distance, the thin tops of the nearer

ind rae Shae Nee » reeds just showing above the white mysee VE, AYE Be Ay re y ji ‘74~ terious veil of mist that covered the water.

: At Ms eee Whee Ay | It was all very strange and lonesome, and

re fay SENS when thought and how Poe ee NEN niceBeniah it would be to beofinhome his warm bed, ° 1 ¥o © he could not help wishing that he had not enlisted. And then he certainly would “Oh, but you Il catch it when daddy “catch it” when his father came home, as

comes home!” said she. Debby had said he would. It was not a Beniah pretended not to pay any atten- pleasant prospect.

tion to her. By and by the moon rose, and at the “When is he coming home?” said he, same time a breeze sprang up. It grew

after a while. colder than ever, and presently the water “I don’t know, but, mark my words, began to splash and dash against the riveryou ’Il catch it when he does come,” said bank beyond. The veil of mist disappeared,

Debby. and the water darkled and flashed with That night they set pickets along the broken shadows and sparks of light. edge of the marsh, and then Beniah really Beniah’s fingers holding the musket felt

began to soldier. He took his turn at numb and dead. He wondered how much standing guard about nine o'clock. There longer he would have to stay on guard; was no wind, but the night was very raw he felt as though he had been there a long and chill. At first Beniah rather liked the time already. He crouched down under the excitement of it, but by and by he began lee of the riverbank and in the corner of to get very cold. He remembered his a fence which stood there to keep the cows father’s overcoat that hung back of the off of the marsh. door in the entry, and he wished he had He had been there maybe five minutes, brought it with him from home; but it was and was growing very sleepy with the cold, too late to wish for that now. And then it when he suddenly heard a sharp sound, and was very lonesome and silent in the dark- instantly started wide awake. It was the ness of the night. A mist hung all over the sound as of an oar striking against the marsh, and in the still air the voices of the side of a boat. There was something very

THE SOLDIERING OF BENIAH STIDHAM 21 strange in the sharp rap ringing through Beniah tried to say, “Who goes there?” the stillness, and whoever had made it had and then he found that what his father had

evidently not intended to do so, for the said was true; he could not say the words

after stillness was unbroken. for stuttering. He was so excited that he Beniah crouched in the fence-corner, could not utter a sound; he would have to listening, breathlessly, intensely. He had shoot without saying, “Who goes there?” forgotten all about being cold and sleepy There was nothing else to do. He aimed and miserable. He felt that his heart was his eye along the barrel of his musket, but beating and leaping unevenly, and his it was so dark that he could not see the breath came quickly, as though he had sights of the gun very well. Should he been running. Was the enemy coming? shoot? He hesitated for an intense second

What should he do? or two—then came a blinding flash of reHe did not move; he only crouched _ solve. there, trying to hold his breath, and trying He drew the trigger.

to still the beating of his heart with his Bang! elbow pressed against his ribs. He was For a moment he was deafened and be. afraid that if there was another sound he wildered by the report and the blinding might miss hearing it because of his labored flash of light. Then the cloud of pungent breathing and the pulses humming in his gunpowder-smoke drifted away, and his ears. He gripped his musket with straining senses came back to him. The head and

fingers. body were gone from against the sky.

There was a pause of perfect stillness. Beniah sprang to his feet and flew back Then suddenly he heard a faint splash as toward the mud fort, yelling he knew not though some one had stepped incautiously what. It seemed as though the whole night

into the water. Again there was stillness. was peopled with enemies. But nobody Then something moved in the reeds—may- followed him. Suddenly he stopped in his be it was a regiment of Hessians! Beniah flight, and stood again listening. Were the crouched lower, and poked his musket British following him? No, they were not. through the bars of the fence. What would He heard alarmed voices from the fort, and happen next? He wondered if it was all the shouting of the pickets. A strange imreal—if the enemy was actually coming. pulse seized him that he could not resist: Suddenly the reeds stirred again. Beniah he felt that he must go back and see what

crouched down still lower. Then he saw he had shot. He turned and crept slowly something slowly rise above the edge of the back, step by step, pausing now and then, riverbank, sharp-cut and black against the and listening intently. By and by he came milky sky. It was the head of a man, and it to where the figure had stood, and, craning was surmounted by a tall conical cap—it his neck, peeped cautiously over the river-

was the sort of a cap that the British bank. The moon shone bright on the soldiers wore. As Beniah gazed, it seemed rippling water in a little open place in the to him as though he had now stopped _ reeds. There was something black lying in breathing altogether. The head remained the water, and as Beniah continued looking

there motionless for a while, as though at it, he saw it move with a wallowing listening; then the body that belonged to splash. Then he ran away shouting and it slowly rose as though from the earth, yelling. and stood, from the waist up black against 66... cece cee eect e ne eeny

the sky. Captain Stapler thought that an attack

22 HOWARD PYLE would surely be made, but it was not; and, “What ’re you doing here, anyhow?” after a while, he ordered a company from said he to Beniah; and he caught him by the mud fort out along the river-bank, to the collar and shook him till Beniah’s hat see who it was that Beniah had shot. They _ slipped down over one eye. “What ’re you

took a lantern along with them, and doin’ here, anyhow—killin’ and shootin’ Beniah went ahead to show them where it and murtherin’ folks? You come home

was. with me, Beniah—you come home with “Yonder ’s the place,” said he; “and I me!” and he shook him again. fu-fired my gi-gi-gi-gi-gun from the fa-fa- “He can’t go,” said Captain Stapler. “You

fence, ja-just here.” can’t take him, Amos. He’s enlisted, and Captain Stapler peered down among the he’s signed his name upon the rollbook.” reeds. “By gum!” said he, “he’s shot some- “I don’t care a rap what he’s signed,” thing, sure enough.” He went cautiously said Amos. “He hain’t goin’ to stay here down the bank; then he stooped over, and shootin’ folks. He ’s got to come home soon lifted something that lay in the water. along with me, he has.” And Beniah went.

Then there was a groan. Nobody knows what happened after he “Come down here, two or three of you!” got home, and Beniah did not tell; but called out Captain Stapler. “Beniah’s ac- next day he went back to work at the

tually shot a man, as sure as life!” cooper-shops again. All the boys seemed A number of the men scrambled down _ glad to see him, and wanted to know just

the bank; they lifted the black figure; it how he shot the Hessian. groaned again as they did so. They carried | A good many people visited the wounded it up and laid it down upon the top of the Hessian down in the barn the day he had

bank. The clothes were very muddy and been shot. Among others came “Dutch wet, but the light of the lantern twinkled Charlie,” the cobbler. He could underhere and there upon the buttons and braid stand what the Hessian said. He told Cap-

of a uniform. Captain Stapler bent over tain Stapler that the man was not a spy, the wounded man. “By gracious!” said he, but a deserter from the transport-ship in “it ’s a Hessian—like enough he ’s a spy.” the river. It seemed almost a pity that the

Beniah saw that the blood was running man had not been a spy; but, after all, it over one side of the wet uniform, and he did not make any great difference in the was filled with a sort of terrible triumph. way people looked on what Beniah StidThey carried the wounded man to the ham had done; for the fact remained that barn, and Dr. Taylor came and looked at he was a Hessian. And nobody thought him. The wound was in the neck, and it of laughing at Beniah, even when he stutwas not especially dangerous. No doubt _ tered in telling how he shot him. the man had been stunned by the ball when After a while the Hessian got well, and

it struck him. then he started a store in Philadelphia. He The Hessian was a young man. did well, and made money, and the queer-

“Sprechen sie Deutsch?” asked he, but est part of the whole business was that he

nobody understood him. married Debby Stidham—in spite of its Lode e ve teesseeveteeveeesseesseveses... having been Beniah who shot him in the

The next morning Beniah’s father came _ neck.

home. He did not stop to ungear the horse, This is the story of Beniah Stidham’s but drove straight down to the mud fort _ soldiering. It lasted only two nights and a in his tinware cart. He was very angry. day, but he got a great deal of glory by it.

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started across the plain in his direction. Before him, almost at his feet, lay a With a little moan of appeal, he turned the yawning gulf—one of those steep-sided

Major toward them. arroyos which begin in a tiny crack, and

The friction of the reins had fretted the increase with the storms and frosts of sucsweat upon the horse’s neck into a heavy ceeding winters till they form impassable lather, he threw up his head uneasily from chasms. The one in question was fully time to time in the effort for more air, and fifteen feet in width, and the lad clutched

at length, with a spasm of dread, the child the animal’s mane, and waited, numb felt his smooth run slacken to a pounding with horror, for the end. The savages, seegallop, while in the rear, with sinister in- ing the unexpected peril which confronted

sistence, the shrill, crooning cries of the him, broke into a series of triumphant Indians grew perceptibly louder. Danny _ yells. At the same moment, clear and dis-

DANNY AND THE “MAJOR” 127 tinct in the still air, came the bugle-notes a brief space against his heart. of the “charge.”

The Major threw up his head at the Half an hour later, when the rattle of sound; it was the well-remembered war- musketry and the crash of the Gatling cry of his young, strong days; it woke an guns in the sand-bag battery beside the answering echo in his faithful heart, and, fort had died away, the herd had been with a supreme and final effort of his fail- recovered, and the Indians had retreated ing strength, he responded to its command. to the shadows of the hills, a small pro-

The muscles on his extended neck grew cession wound along the edge of the stiff and tense with energy; his nostrils timber. In the midst of it was a canvaswidened; he laid his small ears back, and covered wagon with a red cross on its gathered his mighty limbs under him. On white sides. About that, armed and watch—on—and up into the air! The lad closed ful, rode the soldiers of L troop. Under its his eyes. There was a crashing, stumbling shelter sat the surgeon, and at his feet lay jar, and then the horse recovered himself Mackenzie, bandaged and cared for. As

and galloped jerkily forward to meet his the sunlight faded and the evening gun

oncoming mates. sounded over the plains the little train Danny was only vaguely conscious of the _ reached the stockade, the gates opened, and

singing of the bullets above his head and the last of our heroes gained the friendly of the cries of his baffled pursuers as they shelter of the walls. retreated before the fire of the troopers. He So ends the story, and it has no moral. saw his father’s face through a mist of long- Only, if you had seen Danny’s mother delayed tears, and a significant silence fell that evening, as, clinging to the Major’s

upon the men as they closed about the neck, she wept for very joy, you never staggering horse, and their leader lifted could doubt the value of fidelity and courhis son from the saddle and held him for age—even in a horse.

THE PROFESSOR AND THE PATAGONIAN GIANT by Tudor Jenks

ARLY oMe morning during my third He was advancing at a run, and although

fv to Patagonia, as I was strolling not exerting himself overmuch seemed to

upon the banks of the River Chico, be going at a rate of some five kilometers keeping a sharp lookout for a choice speci- a minute. Much annoyed at the interrupmen of the Rutabaga Tremendosa, 1 saw tion to my researches, I paused only long what, at the time, I supposed to be a large enough to deposit the Rutabaga securely and isolated cliff. It looked blue, and con- in my botany box and then broke into an

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“I saw the need of taking immediate steps to save my specimens”

sequently I supposed it to be at some dis- accelerated trot. Do me the justice to acquit

tance. Resuming my search for the beauti- me of any intention of entering into a ful saffron blossom which I have already contest of speed with the pursuing monnamed, my attention was for some mo- ster. I am not so conceited as to imagine ments abstracted. After pulling the plant I can cover five or even three kilometers up by the roots, however, I happened to a minute. No; I relied, rather, on the wellcast my eyes again toward the supposed established scientific probability that the cliff, and you can conceive my extreme giant was stupid. I expected, therefore, mortification and regret when I saw that that my head would have an opportunity it was not a cliff at all, but a giant, and, to save my heels. so far as I could see, one of the most viru- It was not long before I saw the need of

lent species. taking immediate steps to secure my speci128

THE PROFESSOR AND THE PATAGONIAN GIANT 129 mens from destruction and myself from It may easily be understood, therefore, being eaten. He was certainly gaining upon that I was not long upon the way. When

me. As he foolishly ran with his mouth I emerged, I was much pleased with the open, I noticed that his canine teeth were situation. Speaking as a military expert, very well developed—not a proof, but it was perfect. Standing upon a commodistrong evidence, that he was a cannibal. ous ledge, which seemed to have been I redoubled my speed, keeping an eager made for the purpose, my head and shouleye upon the topography in the hope that ders projected from an opening in the I might find some cave or crevice into cliff, which was just conveniently out of which I could creep and thus obtain time the giant’s reach. As my head rose over enough to elaborate a plan of escape. I the edge of the opening, the giant spoke: had not run more than six or eight kilo- § “Aha, you ’re there, are you?” meters, I think (for distances are small in “T won't deny it,” I answered. that part of Patagonia—or were, when | “You think you ’re safe, don’t you?” he was there), when I saw a most convenient went on tauntingly.

cretaceous cave. “I know I ’m safe,” I answered, with an To ensconce myself within its mineral easy confidence which was calculated to recesses was the work of but a moment, please. and it was fortunate for me that it took “Well,” he replied, “to-night I am going no longer. Indeed, as I rolled myself deftly to eat you for supper!” beneath a shelving rock, the giant was so “What, then,” I asked, with some curiosnear that he pulled off one of my boots. ity, “are you going to do for dinner?”

He sat down at the entrance and “Oh, if that troubles you,” said he, “all breathed with astonishing force and rap- you have to do is to come out at dinner-

idity. time and I will eat you then.”

“Now, if he is as stupid as one of his Evidently the giant was not a witling.

race normally should be,” I said to myself, His answers were apt. After a moment’s

“he will stay there for several hours, and reflection I concluded it was worth the I shall lose a great part of this beautiful effort to make an appeal to his better naday.” The thought made me restless, and ture—his over-soul.

I looked about to see whether my sur- “Don’t you know that it is wrong to roundings would hint a solution of the eat your fellow-beings?” I asked, with a

situation. happy mingling of austere reproach and I was rewarded by discovering an out- sympathetic pain.

let far above me. I could see through a “Do you mean to come out soon?” asked cleft in the rocks portions of a cirro-cumu- the giant, seating himself upon an adjacent lus cloud. Fixing my hat more firmly upon cliff, after tearing off such of the taller my head, I began the ascent. It did not take and stiffer trees as were in his way.

long. Indeed, my progress was, if any- “It depends somewhat upon whether you thing, rather accelerated by the efforts of remain where you are,” I answered. the attentive giant, who had secured a long “Oh, I shall stay,” said the giant, pleasand flexible switch—a young India-rubber antly. “Game is rare, and I have n't eaten tree, I think, though I did not notice its a white man for two weeks.”

foliage closely,—and was poking it with This remark brought me back to my considerable violence into the cave. In fact, appeal to his higher being. “Then I shall

he lifted me some decameters at every remain here, too, for the present,” I an-

thrust. swered, “though I should like to get away

130 TUDOR JENKS before sunset. It ’s likely to be humid here try for work in the country. I did so, and

after the sun sets. But, to return to my after some little trouble found employquestion, have you never thought that it ment upon a farm. I stayed there three was immoral and selfish to eat your fel- days. Then I was told that it cost more to

low-creaturesP” keep me than I was worth; which was “Why, certainly,” said the giant, with true. So I left. Then I went to work on a hearty frankness that was truly refresh- a railroad. Here I did as much as twenty ing. “That is why,” he went on, “I asked men. The result was a strike, and I was you whether you were coming out soon. discharged.” If not, I would be glad to while the time “Is there much more autobiography?” away by explaining to you exactly how I I asked as politely as I could, for I was not feel about these matters. Of course I could at all interested in this unscientific memoir.

smoke you out” (here he showed me an “Very little,” he answered. “I can sum it enormous boulder of flint and a long steel up in a few words. Wherever I tried to rod, the latter evidently a propeller-shaft get work, I was discharged, because my from some wrecked ocean-steamer), “but board was too expensive. If I tried to do I make it a rule seldom to eat a fellow- more work to make up for it, the other mortal until he is fully convinced that, men were dissatisfied, because it took the all things considered, I am justified in so bread out of their mouths. Now, I put it

doing.” to you, what was I to do?” The allusion to the smoking-out process “Evidently, you were forced out of civ-

convinced me that this was no hulking _ ilization,” I answered, “and compelled to ignoramus of a giant, and for a moment rely upon nature for your sustenance. That I began to fear that my Rutabaga Tremen- _ is,” I went on, to forestall another question,

dosa was lost to the world forever. But “you had to become a hunter, trapper, or the latter part of his speech re-assured me. fisherman,—for of course, in your case, “If you can convince me that I ought agriculture was out of the question, as you to be eaten,” I said, willing to be reason- could n’t easily get down to the ground, able, “I shall certainly offer no objection. and would crush with your feet more crops

But I confess I have little fear that you than you could raise with your hands.”

will succeed.” His eyes sparkled with joy at being so “I first discovered that I was a giant,” thoroughly understood. “Exactly,” he said. he said, absently chewing the stem of the “But the same trouble followed me there. India-rubber tree, “at a very early age. ] Wherever I settled, the inhabitants com-

could not get enough to eat. I then lived plained that what I ate would support in New York City, for Iam an American, hundreds of other people.”

like yourself.” “Very true,” I answered; “but, excuse We bowed with mutual pleasure. me, could you hand me a small rock to “T tried various sorts of work, but found — sit upon?—it is tiresome to stand here.”

I could not earn enough at any of them “Come out,” he said. “You have my to pay my board-bills. I even exhibited word of honor, as a compatriot of myself in a museum, but found there the George——”

same trouble. “Say no more!” I broke in hastily. “I consulted my grandfather, who was I came out, and was soon, by his kind a man of matured judgment and excellent aid, perched upon the branch of a tree sense. His advice was to leave the city and conveniently near.

* . num-

THE PROFESSOR AND THE PATAGONIAN GIANT 131

fae a inciple do you

“This argument,” he said, sighing, “met reduced, But upon what Aine ; y :

me at every turn; and after much cogita- proceed to the next step—cannibalism:

° «c

tion I could see no solution of the difficulty. “The greatest good to the greatest ot No matter how far from the ‘busy haunts _ ber,” said he. “Whenever I eat sires of men’ I proceeded, it was only to find I diminish the stock of food which supthat food grew scarcer as men were less ports mankind, but whenever I eat a man,

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humerous. At last I reached Patagonia, I diminish the number to be supported. Pp and after a few years I have eaten it almost As all the wise men agree that it is the bare. Now, to what conclusion am I driv- subsistence which is short, my course of

en?” action tends ultimately to the greater hapI thought it over. At last I said: piness of the race.”

“I see the extremities to which you are This seemed very reasonable and for a

132 TUDOR JENKS moment I was staggered. Then a happy “With pleasure,” said the giant. thought came to me, and I suggested that There was no excuse for further delay. if he should allow himself to die of starva- “And are you convinced?” asked the tion the demand for subsistence would be giant, speaking with much kindly consider-

still more reduced. ation.

He shook his head sadly. “I used to “Perfectly,” I said, and kicked off the hope so myself. But the experience of some other boot. years, tabulated and reduced to most ac-

curate statistics, has convinced me beyond Note. by the ¢3 I 4 ch

a doubt that I can catchMuddlehed’s and eat enough [Note,last by thewishes giant in accorcance ; Professor I have wit re-

men, in a year, to more than make up for ; :; f id b 4 if 1 should all ported our full conversation verbatim. In fact, what wou © saved J t should allow much of the foregoing account was revised by

my own he cane - hom Its active €xerthehave Professor himself, before He tions in the cause of humanity.” would been glad, I have no supper. doubt, to I thought very carefully over these argu- have gone over the paper again, but the bell ments and was unable to pick a flaw in rang and he was too considerate to keep the

&.e

them. table waiting. He had many excellent tastes, “As a man of science,” I said, after a and there was a flavor of originality about the

pause, “I could wish that this interview "4h hare like. nove roles him

might be reported to the world.” very much, and regret that my principles were

oN. as to a longer Give, such yourself nopreclude uneasiness. It shall and be . less ¢ dedintimate th .

» said the eiant acquaintance. I forwarded the specimen to done, said the giant. the museum as directed, and received in reAnd I should also be glad to have the turn an invitation to visit the building in New Rutabaga Treme ndosa forwarded very York. Though IJ can not accept the kind invisoon to the Metropolitan Museum,” I said _ tation, I should find it gratifying to have the

thoughtfully. trustees at my own table.]

THE POTTED PRINCESS by Rudyard Kipling

ow this is the true tale that was told “Tullaka-tullaka!” said little Judy, who

N to Punch and Judy, his sister, by was five; and the pink crane shut up his

their nurse, in the city of Bombay, beak and went down to the bottom of the ten thousand miles from here. They were garden to the cocoa-nut palms and the playing in the veranda, waiting for their aloes and the red peppers. Punch followed, mother to come back from her evening shouting “tullaka-tullaka!” till the crane drive. The big pink crane, who generally hopped over an aloe hedge and Punch lived by himself at the bottom of the gar- got pricked by the spikes. Then he cried, den because he hated horses and carriages, because he was only seven, and because it was with them too, and the nurse, who was so hot that he was wearing very few

was called the ayah, was making him clothes and the aloes had pricked a great dance by throwing pieces of mud at him. deal of him; and Judy cried too, because Pink cranes dance very prettily until they Punch was crying, and she knew that that

grow angry. Then they peck. meant something worth crying for. This pink crane lost his temper, opened “Ohoo!” said Punch, looking at both his his wings, and clattered his beak, and the fat little legs together, “I am very badly ayah had to sing a song which never fails pricked by the very bad aloe. Perhaps I to quiet all the cranes in Bombay. It is a _ shall die!”

very old song, and it says: “Punch will die because he has been pricked by the very bad aloe, and then Buggle baita nuddee kinara, there will be only Judy,” said Judy.

Toom-toom mushia kaye, “No,” said Punch, very quickly, putting Nuddee kinara kanta lugga his legs down. “Then you will sit up to din-

Tullaka-tullaka ju jaye. ner alone. I will not die; but, ayah, I am very badly pricked. What is good for That means: A crane sat by the river-bank, that?”

eating fish toom-toom, and a thorn in the The ayah looked down for a minute, river-bank pricked him, and his life went just to see that there were two tiny pink away tullaka-tullaka—drop by drop. The — scratches on Punch’s legs. Then she looked

ayah and Punch and Judy always talked out across the garden to the blue water of Hindustani because they understood it Bombay harbor, where the ships are, and

better than English. said:

“See now,” said Punch, clapping his “Once upon a time there was a Rajah.” hands. “He knows, and he is ashamed. “Rajah” means king in Hindustani, just Tullaka-tullaka, ju jayel Go away!” as “ranee” means queen. 133

134 RUDYARD KIPLING “Will Punch die, ayah?” said Judy. She tion when a child is born, it means well.

too had seen the pink scratches, and they When they are in another position, it

seemed very dreadful to her. means, perhaps, that the child may be sick “No,” said Punch. “Ayah is telling a or ill-tempered, or she may have to travel

tale. Stop crying, Judy.” very far away.”

“And the Rajah had a daughter,” said “Must I travel far away?” said Judy.

the ayah. “No, no. There were only good little “Tt is a new tale,” said Punch. “The last stars in the sky on the night that Judy Rajah had a son, and he was turned into baba was born,—little home-keeping stars

a monkey. Hssh!” that danced up and down, they were so The ayah put out her soft brown arm, _ pleased.” picked Judy off the matting of the veranda, “And I—I—I! What did the stars do and tucked her into her lap. Punch sat when I was born?” said Punch.

cross-legged close by. “There was a new star that night. I saw “That Rajah’s daughter was very beau- it. A great star with a fiery tail all across

tiful,” the ayah went on. the sky. Punch will travel far.”

“How beautiful? More beautiful than “That is true. I have been to Nassik in mamma? Then I do not believe this tale,” the railway-train. Never mind the Prin-

said Punch. cess’s stars. What did the magic-men do?” “She was a fairy princess, Punch baba, “They consulted the stars, little imand she was very beautiful indeed; and patient, and they said that the Princess when she grew up the Rajah her father must be shut up in such a manner that said that she must marry the best prince only the very best of all the princes in

in all India.” India could take her out. So they shut “Where did all these things happen?” her up, when she was sixteen years old, in said Punch. a big, deep grain-jar of dried clay, with a “In a big forest near Delhi. So it was cover of plaited grass.”

told to me,” said the ayah. “I have seen them in the Bombay mar“Very good,” said Punch. “When I am _ ket,” said Judy. “Was it one of the very big I will go to Delhi. Tell the tale, ayah.” big kind?” The ayah nodded, and Judy “Therefore the King made a talk with shivered, for her father had once held her his magicians—men with white beards who _up to look into the mouth of just such a do jadoo (magic), and make snakes come grain-jar, and it was full of empty dark-

out of baskets, and grow mangos from ness. little stones, such as you, Punch, and you, “How did they feed her?” said Punch.

Judy baba, have seen. But in those days “She was a fairy. Perhaps she did not they did much more wonderful things: want food,” the ayah began. they turned men into tigers and elephants. “All people want food. This is not a And the magicians counted the stars under’ true tale. I shall go and beat the crane.”

which the Princess was born.” Punch got up on his knees.

“JI do not understand this,” said Judy, “No, no. I have forgotten. There was wriggling on the ayah’s lap. Punch did not — plenty of food—plantains, red and yellow understand either, but he looked very wise. ones, almond curd, boiled rice and peas, The ayah hugged her close. “How should fowl stuffed with raisins and red peppers, a baby understand?” she said softly. “It is and cakes fried in oil with coriander seeds,

in this way. When the stars are in one posi- and sweet-meats of sugar and butter. Is

THE POTTED PRINCESS 135 that enough food? So the Princess was shut the princes consult, and witches and dwarts

up in the grain-jar, and the Rajah made that live in caves, and wise tigers and talka proclamation that whoever could take ing horses and learned parrots. They told

her out should marry her and should all these men and all these beasts of the govern ten provinces, sitting upon an ele- Princess in the grain-jar, and the holy men phant with tusks of gold. That proclama- and the wise beasts taught them charms

tion was made through all India.” and spells that were very strong magic “We did not hear it, Punch and I,” said indeed. Some of the princes they advised

Judy. “Is this a true tale, ayah?” to go out and kill giants and dragons, and “Tt was before Punch was born. It was cut off their heads. And some of the prinbefore even I was born, but so my mother ces stayed for a year with the holy men told it to me. And when the proclamation in forests, learning charms that would imwas made, there came to Delhi hundreds mediately split open great mountains. and thousands of princes and rajahs and There was no charm and no magic that great men. The grain-jar with the cover these princes and subedars did not learn, of the plaited grass was set in the middle for they knew that the Rajah’s magicians of all, and the Rajah said that he would were very strong magicians, and therefore allow to each man one year in which to. they needed very, very strong charms to make charms and learn great things that open the grain-jar. So they did all these

would open the grain-jar.” things that I have told, and also cut off “I do not understand,” said Judy again. the tails of the little devils that live on She had been looking down the garden for the sand of the great desert in the north; her mother’s return, and had lost the thread and at last there were very few dragons

of the tale. and giants left, and poor people could “The jar was a magic one, and it wasto plough without being bewitched any be opened by magic,” said Punch. “Go on, more.

ayah. I understand.” “Only there was one prince that did not The ayah laughed a little. “Yes, the ride away with the others, for he had

Rajah’s magicians told all the princes that neither horse nor saddle, nor any men to

it was a magic jar, and led them three follow him. He was a prince of low birth, times round it, muttering under their for his father had married the daughter

beards, and bade them come back in a of a potter, and he was the son of his year. So the Princes, and the Subedars, mother. So he sat down on the ground, and the Wazirs, and the Maliks rode away and the little boys of the city driving the east and west and north and south, and_ cattle to pasture threw mud at him.”

consulted the magicians in their fathers’ “Ah!” said Punch, “mud is nice. Did

courts, and holy men in caves.” they hit him?” “Like the holy men I saw at Nassik on “T am telling the tale of the Princess, the mountain? They were all nungapunga and if there are so many questions, how (naked), but they showed me their little can I finish before bedtime? He sat on the

gods, and I burned stuff that smelt in a ground, and presently his mother, the pot before them all, and they said I was a Ranee, came by, gathering sticks to cook Hindu, and—” Punch stopped, out of bread, and he told her of the Princess and

breath. the grain-jar. And she said: ‘Remember

“Yes. Those were the men. Old men _ that a pot is a pot, and thou art the son smeared with ashes and yellow paint did of a potter.’ Then she went away with

136 RUDYARD KIPLING those dry sticks, and the Potter-prince wearied out and the holy men began to waited till the end of the year. Then the bite their nails with vexation, and the princes returned, as many of them as were Rajah’s magicians laughed, the Potterleft over from the fights that they had Prince came into the plain alone, without fought. They brought with them the ter- even one little talking beast or wise bird, rible cut-off heads of the giants and the and all the people made jokes at him. But

dragons, so that people fell down with he walked to the grain-jar and cried, ‘A fright; and the tails of all the little devils, pot is a pot, and I am the son of a potter!’ bunch by bunch, tied up with string; and and he put his two hands upon the grainthe feathers of magic birds; and their holy —_jar’s cover and he lifted it up, and the Prin-

men and dwarfs and talking beasts came cess came out! Then the people said, “This with them. And there were bullock-carts is very great magic indeed’; and they befull of the locked books of magic incanta- gan to chase the holy men and the talking tions and spells. The Rajah appointed a beasts up and down, meaning to kill them. day, and his magicians came, and the grain- But the Rajah’s magicians said: “This is

jar was set in the middle of all, and the no magic at all, for we did not put any princes began, according to their birth and charm upon the jar. It was a common the age of their families, to open the grain- grain-jar; and it zs a common grain-jar jar by means of their charm-work. There such as they buy in the bazar; and a child were very many princes, and the charms might have lifted the cover one year ago, were very strong, so that as they performed or on any day since that day. Ye are too the ceremonies the lightning ran about the wise, O Princes and Subedars, who rely ground as a broken egg runs over the on holy men and the heads of dead giants cook-house floor, and it was thick, dark and devils’ tails, but do not work with night, and the people heard the voices of your own hands! Ye are too cunning! devils and djinns and talking tigers, and There was no magic, and now one man has saw them running to and fro about the taken it all away from you because he was grain-jar till the ground shook. But, none not afraid. Go home, princes, or if ye will, the less, the grain-jar did not open. And _ stay to see the wedding. But remember that

the next day the ground was split up as aa pot is a pot.” log of wood is split, and great rivers flowed There was a long silence at the end of up and down the plain, and magic armies _ the tale. with banners walked in circles—so great “But the charms were very strong,” said was the strength of the charms. Snakes, Punch, doubttfully. too, crawled round the grain-jar and hissed, “They were only words, and how could but none the less the jar did not open. they touch the pot. Could words turn you

When morning came the holes in the into a tiger, Punch baba?” ground had closed up, and the rivers were “No. I am Punch.” gone away, and there was only the plain. “Even so,” said the ayah. “If the pot had And that was because it was all magic been charmed, a charm would have opened

charm-work which cannot last.” it. But it was a common, bazar pot. What “Aha!” said Punch, drawing a deep did it know of charms? It opened to a breath. “I am glad of that. It was only hand on the cover.” magic, Judy. Tell the tale, ayah.” “Oh!” said Punch; and then he began “At the very last, when they were all to laugh, and Judy followed his example.

THE POTTED PRINCESS 137 “Now I quite understand. I will tell it to confused.

mama.” “Never mind,” said Punch; “I will When mama came back from her drive, show.” And he reached up to the table the children told her the tale twice over, for the big eau-de-cologne bottle that he while she was dressing for dinner; but as _ was strictly forbidden to touch, and pulled

they began in the middle and put the be- out the stopper and upset half the scent ginning first, and then began at the end down the front of his dress, shouting, “A and put the middle last, she became a little pot is a pot, and I am the son of a potter!”

THE BUTTER BETTY BOUGHT Anonymous |

Berry Botta bought some butter; “But,” said she, “This butter’s bitter! If I put it in my batter It will make my batter bitter. But a bit o’ better butter Will but make my batter better.” So she bought a bit o’ butter Better than the bitter butter,

| Made her bitter batter better. So ’twas better Betty Botta Bought a bit o’ better butter.

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THE BROWNIES’ RETURN by Palmer Cox nce while the Brownies lay at ease And still our ship at every wave

() About the roots of rugged trees, To sharks a creaking promise gave, And listened to the dreary moan Till half in sea, and half on rock, Of tides around their island lone, She shivered like an earthen crock, Said one: “My friends, unhappy here, And spilled us out in breakers white, We spend our days from year to year. To gain the land as best we might. We ’re cornered in, and hardly boast Since then, how oft we ’ve tried in vain

A run of twenty leagues at most. To reach our native haunts again, You all remember well, I ween, Where roaming freely, unconfined, The night we reached this island green, Would better suit our roving mind. When flocks of fowl around us wailed, But, hark! I have a plan will chase And followed till their pinions failed. The cloud of gloom from every face. 138

THE BROWNIES RETURN 139 “Tonight, while wandering by the sea, A novel scheme occurred to me,

As I beheld in groups and rows |

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Then no dissenting voice was raised, Each chose the bird he wished to ride. But all the speaker’s wisdom praised, When all had done the best they could, And at his heels, with willing feet, And waiting for the signal stood, They followed to the fowls’ retreat. It hardly took a moment’s space "T was hard to scale the rugged breast For each to scramble to his place. Of crags, where birds took nightly rest. Some grabbed a neck and some a head, But some on hands, and some on knees, And some a wing, and more a shred

THE BROWNIES’ RETURN 141 Of tail, or aught that nearest lay, Before the gale the Brownies go, To help them mount without delay. Away, away, through spray or cloud Then rose the flaps and piercing screams, As fancy led, or load allowed.

As sudden starting from their dreams Some birds to poor advantage showed, The wondering fowl in sore dismay As, with an illy balanced load,

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It was, indeed, a daring feat Believing fortune yet would smile. To ride on such a dubious seat. But with no common joy, indeed, But off like leaves or flakes of snow The Brownies saw the isle recede;

142 PALMER COX While plainer still before them grew Some, somersaulting to the ground, The hills and vales so well they knew. Dispersed their riders all around; “T see,” said one, who, from his post And others, still, could barely get Between the wings, surveyed the coast, To where the land and water met. “The lofty peaks we used to climb Congratulations then began, To gaze upon the scene sublime.” As here and there the Brownies ran, A second cried: “And there ’s the bay To learn if all had held their grip From which our vessel sailed away!” And kept aboard throughout the trip.

“And I,” another cried, “can see “And now,” said one, “that all are o’er

The shady grove, the very tree In safety to our native shore, We met beneath the night we planned Where pleasant grove and grassy lea To build a ship and leave the land!” In grandeur spread from sea to sea, Such wondrous works and actions bold,

Thus, while they talked, they quite forgot As time may bring, no tongue has told.

The dangers of the time and spot, But see, so wasted is the night,

Till, in confusion now at last, Orion’s torch is out of sight;

The birds upon the shore were cast. And ere the lamp of Venus fades Some, crashing through the branches, fell We all must reach the forest shades.” And spilled the load they bore so well.

LEONARD’S ENGLISH CHRISTMAS by Alice Hegan Rice

F all the lonesome people in London, = “Would you like to cut things out with

() Isuppose Leonard Vincent wasjust scissors?” she asked vaguely. about the lonesomest! He sat with Leonard shook his head; he had done his feet tucked under him in the stiff win- that two years ago, when he was seven.

dow-seat in Miss Meeks’ stiff drawing- “Well, you can’t sit there moping all room, and looked down disconsolately into day. Why don’t you go out for a walk; it the wet, dreary street. Three weeks before, is n’t raining enough to matter.”

he and his mother had come over from “Where can I go?” America to England for a joyful holiday, “Oh, dear, what a tiresome boy! Have n’t and no sooner had they landed than his I told you you could go as far as the park mother was seized with a fever and car- one way, and down to the Embankment ried away to a great hospital, and he was the other? Just be sure to mind the crossleft in charge of Miss Meeks, the strange ings, and be home by five.”

landlady. Leonard reluctantly put on his hat and Miss Meeks meant to be very kind; she coat and started forth. On sunny days he saw that he was properly clothed and fed, often went to St. James’s Park and wistand she tried, in a way, to amuse him, but fully watched the children playing on the

she did not know any more about little banks of the stream, or hung over the boys than she did about little lions, or little charts of water-fowls along the walk, try-

tigers, or other little wild animals. ing to find the different names of the fat As Leonard sat watching the raindrops birds that waddled about in the bushes. trickle down the pane and thought about But to-day he knew it would be cold and his mother and what a long time she had lonesome in the park, and even the ducks been away, he could not keep from cry- would be under cover, so he turned listing a little, even if he was nine years old, lessly toward the Embankment. and the captain of a ball team when he The Victoria Embankment is the river-

was at home. front along the Thames, and Leonard

“Now, Leonard,” said Miss Meeks, usually liked to watch the boats that came bustling into the room, “you stop that and went, and the funny two-storied street-

moping this minute! Did n’t I give you cars, and the soldiers that sometimes permission to look at the books on the marched there. But to-day he was not table if your hands were clean?” interested in any of these sights. There was “Yes ’m, but I ’ve already looked at just one thing in the world that he wanted, them.” and that was his mother! 143

144 ALICE HEGAN RICE As he walked along blinking very hard, ’ouse, an’ ye l’arn ’ow to make a ship, an’ and trying to swallow the lump that would a tree mayhap, an’ then you mixes of ’em come in his throat, he suddenly stumbled up haccordin’ to yer fancy. If hit ’s a sun-

over something on the pavement. set scene you ’re haimin’ at, you gives ‘em Looking down, he saw it was a wooden a pink tint, but if hit ’s moonlight, you leg, and it belonged to an old man who makes ’em blue.” was drawing wonderful pictures in colored = “How do you make the moon so round?”

chalk on the pavement. “Well, some favors usin’ a shilling for the “So sorry, sir,” said the old man, hunch- purpose, but I most generally does it with ing himself back against the wall, quite as a carper, that bein’, as you might say, more

if he were used to apologizing for being andy like.”

stepped on. “Is this one going to be a moonlight Leonard immediately became interested; scene?” asked Leonard. in the first place, he had never before been “Yes, sir, a moonlight marine. This ’ere

called “sir,” and, in the second, he had effect is a boat.” made the exciting discovery that the old “T knew it!” cried Leonard, triumphantman’s other leg was wooden, too! ly; “why don’t you put a name on the side After he had stood watching for some of it?”

time, the old man looked up: “I ain’t awerse,” said the old man, “Do ye like ’em?” he asked. obligingly, “whut name would ye favor?”

For a moment Leonard did not know “The U.S. A.,” said Leonard; “and, if whether he meant the wooden legs or the you don’t mind, I think it would be awful

pictures, but the kindly look on the old nice to do the letters in red, white, and face reassured him. blue.” “ ’*Course I do,” he said heartily; “I think “Right-o!” said the old man, suiting the J

you can draw fine.” action to the word. “Whut might your

“Well, hit ain’t whut ye might say high name be, lad?” |

hart, but hit turns me a’ honest penny.” “Leonard Vincent. What ’s yours?” By this time, Leonard had squatted down “Whurtle, old Jim Whurtle. I been ‘Old’

beside him, and was watching the magic Jim Whurtle for a quarter of a cen-

growth of a cottage that neither Queen tury.” 2 Anne nor any other queen would have By this time, Leonard was sitting flat

.XAWy 7 + WA 7a BN d/ , TE answered for architecturally. on the pavement beside Mr. Whurtle, “Hit ’s all in the knowin’ ’ow,” the old watching every movement of the chalk

man continued. “You l’arn ’ow to make a__ with flattering absorption.

SOG von aao, eee H ay iSay Ne {| SONA eed Co ee Qe on ne ry yee i da a ee “The Victoria embankment is the river-front along the Thames”

LEONARD'S ENGLISH CHRISTMAS 145 “Do you make people as good as you do “How early in the morning?” asked

boats?” he asked, almost reverently. Leonard. “Well, I can’t say as I don’t,” replied Mr. “Not afore noon. Mr. Minny fetches - Whurtle, modestly; “I do Mr. Gladstone, me ’ere in ’is cart on “is second round, an’ an’ Lord Kitchener, an’ Lloyd George.” comes by fer me ag’in long about sun“And not George Washington?” asked down.”

Leonard, incredulously, “or Teddy?” “Who is Mr. Minny?”

“Who ’s Teddy?” “He ’s the ash man that lives alongside

“Why, Mr. Roosevelt, of course. Any- 0’ me.” .

body can do him if they have a piece of “And can’t you go home if you want

chalk. I can. toP Not even if it ’s raining like everyThe hint was not taken, and Leonard’s thing?” ability as an artist was not put to the test. Mr. Whurtle shook his head: “The rain But he stayed on, nevertheless, watching ain’t whut you ’d say harf bad. I ain’t made the growth of one wonderful masterpiece 0’ sugar, nor yet salt, that I ’d melt in a after another, until Big Ben reminded him _ bit of wetting. Hit ’s the cold that counts.”

that it was time to be going home. “Anyhow,” said Leonard, cheerfully, Big Ben is the great clock in the high “you can’t get rheumatism in your legs, tower that rises over the Houses of Parliae can you?” And at this Mr. Whurtle ment, and it rules the comings and goings laughed for the first time, a silent, fat of everybody in that part of London. It is laugh, that shook his brown waistcoat up not just as ordinary clock, for it hasa won- and down and sent the wrinkles running derful set of chimes called the Westminster all over his kind old face.

chimes, and every fifteen minutes all From this time on, Leonard ceased to be through the day and night, it sings out the the lonesomest little boy in London; in

nassing hour. fact, he became a very busy and interested “Well, I Il have to be going,” said Leon- boy, and all because he had discovered a ard, reluctantly; “will you be here to-mor- friend. Every morning he practised with

row?” his own crayons at home, and, as soon as Mr. Whurtle lay down his chalk and lunch was over, he hurried down to the

looked far off into space. Embankment to find Mr. Whurtle, and to “Aye, lad,” he said, “to-morrow, an’ the watch the new pictures that were drawn

next day, an’ the day followin’.” each day on the pavement.

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146 ALICE HEGAN RICE After the regulation moonlight effect, Buildin’s. Aye, lad, I was young then, an’ and snow scene, and marine view, with an the blood was ’ot in me veins. I can feel the

occasional portrait or bunch of grapes wind in me face now, an’ the strength in interspersed, had been drawn, and each me harms, an’ ’ear the poundin’ of them neatly framed in a flourishing scroll, the ’orses’ feet.”

two would sit with their backs to the wall “Don’t it make you awful sorry, Mr. and wait for pennies to fall into the cap Whurtle?” Leonard had asked, and then that Mr. Whurtle laid invitingly handy. Mr. Whurtle had cleared his throat, and “I ain’t never stooped to holdin’ of hit _ said: out,” he would say proudly. “I ’ve seen the “Per’aps it war n’t so bad fer me, lad. I time when the day was long, an’ no sup- was young an’ reckless in them days, an’ per at the end of hit, but Id say to meself, my legs they carried me many a place | ‘Leave the cap lay, Jim Whurtle; ye are ’ad no right to be. Per’aps the good God

workin’ fer yer livin’, not beggin’, ” seen the chanct to save me by takin’ away Yet Leonard could see that Mr. Whurtle the legs that was carryin’ me to the bad.”

looked rather downcast and sad on the Leonard did not tell Miss Meeks about days when the pennies failed to come. Mr. Whurtle. Miss Meeks liked people to While they waited, they discussed all be very clean and proper, and he was quite sorts of interesting things, and Leonard sure she would not approve of a person discovered that Mr. Whurtle knew the who sat on the pavement and had no legs. answers to more questions than any one Mother, of course, would understand, and he had ever talked to. He never said he he could scarcely wait for the time when did not know, or told a little boy to be he could tell her all about his new friend, still. He knew where the boats on the river and give her the many pictures he had came from and where they were going, he made for her during her absence. knew how birds build their nests, and what “There ’s only one more week now to makes the light in a firefly, and why police- wait,” Miss Meeks said to him one aftermen wear helmets; he even ventured to noon as he was starting off. “The nurse say where the wind went when it was not telephoned that your mother was sitting blowing, and whether or not God had a_ up a wee bit, and they hoped to let her wife. Leonard asked him all the questions out of the hospital by Christmas Day.” that had been bottled up in him since his Leonard ran all the way to the Embankmother went to the hospital, and each eve- ment. He knew Mr. Whurtle would be ning he thought up a lot more to ask him glad, and he was eager to share the good

the following day. news with him. But, when he arrived, Mr. The most exciting discovery he made was Whurtle was nowhere to be seen. Instead,

that Mr. Whurtle had once been a fireman a small crowd was gathered about an and had lost his legs when a roof crashed ambulance wagon, into which two men in

in on a burning tenement. uniform were carefully lifting a stretcher. “Ye would n’t think now,” said Mr. Just as he managed to wriggle his way to Whaurtle, in ending the story, “that them the front, a policeman slammed the door very cobblestones there in the street has of the wagon in the face of the crowd, and struck fire to the ’oofs of me ’orses, as I ordered the driver to go ahead. braced me two good legs ag’inst the engine “What ’s the matter?” demanded Leonan’ let ’em ’ave their ’eads clean from Num- ard, breathlessly, but, as usual, nobody ber Three Engine-house to the Parlymint noticed him. He heard something about

LEONARD'S ENGLISH CHRISTMAS 147 “a runaway horse,” and “an old party,” and _—_ lation squares. Then came the momentous

“nothing serious,” and then the crowd decision whether his first effort should be melted away faster than it had gathered, a house and a pinetree against a setting and he was left alone gazing at a small sun, or a boat in a storm. He decided on the

square of carpet that lay by the wall, former, and, stretching out his legs, just covered with lumps of gaily colored chalk. as Mr. Whurtle did his peg-sticks, he went Those were Mr. Whurtle’s things, there resolutely to work. Now and then, when was no doubt of that, but where was Mr. a shadow fell across the pavement, he knew

Whurtle? Then the truth dawned upon that some one had stopped to watch him, him: it was Mr. Whurtle that had been but when one is absorbed in the engrossing thrust head first into that long wagon, business of making wreaths of blue smoke and it was Mr. Whurtle of whom they come out of red chimneys, there is no time

spoke as “the old party!” to look up.

Leonard started up to ask more ques- His first distraction came when a penny tions, but nobody was left who had seen was tossed over his head. He was just bethe accident, and only the chalk and the ginning a new picture, and his first thought carpet lay there, mute witnesses of his was now he would have something round friend’s misfortune. His first impulse was to draw the moon by! His second thought to run home, for he was very much fright- was for Mr. Whurtle. He had almost for-

ened. But what was he to do with Mr. gotten the really important part of the Whurtle’s things? He could n’t take them work before him, the part that Mr. Whurto him, for he had no idea where he lived, tle always did first, and was most parand he could n’t take them home with him, ticular should n’t get rubbed out. He set for they might be sent for any minute. It about to remedy his mistake at once. was quite a grave responsibility for a per- He remembered the words exactly, and son of nine who had an exaggerated re- just how they looked on the middle square.

spect for artists’ materials. He even remembered the exact curve of the He decided that the only thing for him big flourish beneath them; it was the to do was to sit down and wait. He hoped spelling that bothered him. After several he would not have to wait until Mr. Minny attempts which he rubbed out with his came at six. Big Ben chimed out the quar-__coat-sleeve, he wrote the following: ter past the hour, then the half-hour, then

the quarter to, and still he sat with his

back to the wall keeping vigilant watch Please bestow a trifel.

over the treasure. And, as he waited, a : little théught popped into his head and The first person to read the inscription kept getting bigger and bigger, until there was a little girl, who carried a pail in her did n’t seem to be room for anything else. hand. She and Leonard eyed each other for Why could n’t he make Mr. Whurtle’s some time in suspicious silence, then Leonpictures for him? It was a sunshiny after- ard asked:

noon and many people were passing, and “Do you know how many pennies it surely some of them would give a penny takes to make a shilling?” or two if only there were some pictures She was so surprised to have this strange

on the pavement. little boy ask her a question right out of His heart beat faster as he picked up a_ the arithmetic that she began to move piece of chalk and began making the regu- away, but at a safe distance she turned and

148 ALICE HEGAN RICE called back, “Twelve,” then scampered him once that unless he made a shilling a up the street with the pail bumping against day, things went very badly with him,

,...

her legs. and here it was late in the afternoon, and Leonard sighed. Mr. Whurtle had told only one penny collected! He sat patiently,

with his back to the wall and waited,

anxiously scanning each approaching fig-

LE D> ure, but nobody seemed to notice him. Of pea Na course he knew that his pictures were not

i so splendid as Mr. Whurtle’s, but surely = anybody could tell that one was a ship, reaped and one was a house, even if he might not

be certain whether the round thing in the

| middle was the sun or the moon! : Sitting still so long made Leonard sleepy, | and by and by his head drooped, and the a chalk fell out of his limp hand. The next i thing he knew, somebody was shaking him [ gently by the shoulder, and, looking up, si he saw a woman in a gray cape and with a

yay gray veil hanging from her bonnet, leaning

JZ over him: ee, “Are you waiting for somebody?” she

~ye 4 ~*~ s Se a asked kindly.

er _~ Fev For a moment, Leonard could not re-

aAs = ci a aa

LI hy member what he was doing there, then

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A LITTLE CONTRABAND by Charles Mcllvaine

nN 1862, my company stacked their guns happy laugh of negroes, and the joy of | one bright May evening, unslung their yonder fair and stately mansion. Everyknapsacks, unbuckled their cartridge- thing was deserted—felds, quarters, homebelts, donned their fatigue uniforms, and, _ stead. with the method of well-trained soldiers, Dashing out of the forest line and galproceeded to erect a little village of tents loping across a vast plain, with cotton rows beside a beautiful artificial lake made by disturbing its level like ripples on a sea of capturing the tide at its flood, as it poured sand, rode a glittering group of officers from the Edisto River up a narrow sluice- with a train of mounted orderlies—Briga-

way into the extensive and beautiful dier-General H. G. Wright and his staff. grounds surrounding the Seabrook man- On they came, waving a passing salute to sion. The mocking-birds were in full tune the officers of my detachment, and clatamong the trees, and trolling their songs tered up the broad shell-avenue to Seafrom the great magnolias. Lonely palms brook house, there to establish brigade stood stark in the glare of sunset by the headquarters in its vacant halls. side of symmetrical live-oaks and cone- The men of my company worked with shaped pines resting like enormous hay- a will at their canvas homes. Their hearts

cocks on the rim of the horizon. The were light and proud that day—for had gables, towers, and chimneys of the man- they not at grand review caught the gen-

sion rose above the mat of trees and eral’s eye, and by their step and keeping shadow, to catch the richness of sunset tints won his favor and the privilege of being and reflect their fire from many a dazzling his guard at his headquarters? dormer. Barns, cotton houses, slave-quar- While watching the erection of my own ters, together with the muititudinous out- tent, under the generous shade of a livebuildings of a Southern plantation, stood oak tree, I heard a shrill, childish yell, and on the river bank overlooking its wide then the shouts of the men. Turning, I saw

waters. a sight that was too much for the gravity

Bird-song, the hum of busy men, the of even a commanding officer. Down the thud of blows driving tent-pins, the stamp- street—newly walled off by the canvas ing of horses as they stood in the wagon- houses—carne a little darky at lightning train, the sharp, incisive orders of subaltern speed. His bare black legs shone like the

ofhters, as men moved and tents rose at spokes of a rapidly revolving carriagetheir commands, were the only sounds. wheel, as they spun over the ground; his War had rested its palsying hand on lovely head was thrown back; his eyes stuck out

Edisto, silencing the low of herds, the until the white rings around their pupils 153

154 CHARLES MCILVAINE made each look like the bull’s-eye of a charitable. While the breathless corporal target; his capacious mouth was open for halted, shouldered his musket, and stood vociferous yelling, and the fragmentary at “attention” before me, the perfect picshirt he wore was extended as far behind ture of a soldier, I did what I could to conhim as its scanty material could reach. It sole the waif through a long and tearful did not take an observant eye to see that outburst, which finally came to an abrupt that jet-black youngster was likely to lose conclusion from his choking on a piece of his color from fright. And no wonder; for cracker that he had tried to swallow bebehind him was a long-legged corporal tween his sobs. holding a bayoneted musket within reach- “He is hungry, Corporal—nearly starved.

ing distance of his flying calico. He must have been left behind when the The explanation of this strange chase people left here, and has nothing to eat was not at first evident. While Corporal since.” Russel was the jolliest of fellows in camp, In an instant Corporal Russel’s face and always ready for trick or joke, there changed from embarrassment, at being so was now in his gait and face a savage de- ludicrously caught, to anxious sympathy.

termination to catch that darky or run “Let me have him, Captain. He shall him beyond the department limits. As the have all I ’ve got.”

youngster came closer the mystery was A yell from the little fellow, and a resolved. In one hand he held a chunk of newed grasp of his greasy fingers, admonbacon, and in the other a hardtack. The lit- ished me that, however willing the corporal tle rascal had been caught stealing from might be to feed him, I was regarded by the

the corporal’s haversack. stray as his defender and adopted protector. Well knowing that the corporal would Nor would he take his baconed grasp from not hurt him,—for he was kindness itself my trousers until I had promised him that the whole length of his queer, gaunt form, the corporal should not have him.

—the comicality of the race struck me. From that moment he believed that | Naturally taking part with the weaker, I had saved his life, and never afterward, joined in the shouting with, “Go it, Sambo! on weary march, on dangerous picket, or

You are beating him! Hold on to the in the heat of deadly fray, did he swerve

bacon!” from the fidelity born of his gratitude.

I think this last expression of encourage- Soon the tents were pitched, the campment decided the little fellow, for he gave fires were lighted, groups sat in their red one wild, supplicating look at me, changed _ glare, or lolled where the rippled lake put his course suddenly, and circled to the pro- ruffles around the moon’s reflected face (a

tection of my legs. There he cluag, in ter- silvery night-cap most becoming) until rified entreaty, much to the detriment of “taps” darkened the camp, and no sound my uniform from his handful of grease. but the bittern’s cry and measured tread “Don’ you let ’im kill-er me, mas’r! Don’ of sentinels disturbed the silence of the you let ’im killer me! I did n’t take ’em! night. In a corner of my tent, well fed and Ill gib um back right away! I’s so hungry. sound asleep, lay little “Nigger June.”

Don’ you let ’im kill-er me!” He had told me his name and his story The little fellow’s cry, “I ’s so hungry,” in his own quaint way. When the Federal touched me. I have been hungry myself, gunboats steamed up the Edisto River, the and experience makes us wonderfully ignorant and terrified slaves fled to hiding-

A LITTLE CONTRABAND 155 places in the swamp-forests or followed darky in the Department of the South,— their masters from the island to the main- never failing to capture the silver in his land; and June, whose whole family tree, teeth and be up in time to have a laugh

so far as he knew, consisted of the one at his rooting, struggling competitors. guardian he had ever had (his old “Aunt Butting was a favorite pastime. With head Peggy”), was, owing to the shortness of down, shoulders up, prancing on one leg, his legs and a chronic habit of going to he would issue challenge to man or boy sleep under all possible circumstances, left to do battle with him, and he always scored

behind. Hunger was too much for his a victory. honesty; so, like a dog after a bone, he had An immense negro, named Orchard, sneaked into the camp and was spied by — used to come daily into camp with a tub the keen-eyed corporal foraging on the pro- on his head containing shrimps, which visions. He took to his new surroundings found ready sale among the soldiers. June

as naturally as if he had been born by a had repeatedly danced his war-dance camp-fre and cradled in a drum. Like a around Orchard without obtaining even cat left behind in a deserted home, he be- recognition as an enemy. came a legacy to the new-comers, and he One day, after an unsuccessful challenge,

was petted and cared for accordingly. he came to me disgusted and full of conTo say anything without an enforcing tempt. “See um dar, Cappin, see um, dat emphasis, or to expect to be believed with- big niggah. Him too proud. Woffer him

out reference to some authority of higher not butt me? Woffer him not go down value than his own, was foreign to June’s on his knees an’ butt me? Deed, I knock idea of impressive English. His lingo was ’m shoo.”

that of the Carolina Sea Islands, but his Being in full sympathy with my butting laugh was cosmopolitan—there was no phenomenon, and having been his backer limit to its shades and changes. It em- on many occasions, I said, “June, I will bodied the diapason of jollity, was ready give you a quarter if you make Orchard at the slightest provocation, and was as in- drop that tub of shrimps.”

fectious as sneezes from snuff. His dancing After he had taken a roll, turned two | incorporated every caper that ever was cut; or three somersaults, and done some danc-

his full, rich, contralto voice rang out the ing, to work his elation out properly, he complete weird song-lore of his race. It replied:

was not long before he became known “Mas’r, dat quartah’s mine. Dat tub throughout the whole Tenth Army Corps. mighty high up. Long way up to dat tub, No picnic, coon-hunt, fishing-party, nor Mas’r Cappin. Orchard hab to git from camp game in which the men indulged un’er him.” He dashed off in high glee, and

was complete without him. was soon stalking beside the black shrimp He was in constant demand from all merchant, with an empty cracker-box balparts of the command because of the anced on his head, imitating his big model amusement he afforded, and in conse- in every action. I watched his manceuvers quence was generally “lent out” to some with keen enjoyment,—it was a contest beone. Unlike other loans, he never failed to tween a pygmy and a giant. He soon atreturn. Diving for quarters in a tub of meal _ tracted Orchard’s attention, and the shrimp was his specialty. He could keep his “bul- dealer came to a sudden and dignified

let” head under longer than any other halt.

156 CHARLES MCILVAINE “What you doin’ dat fo’, you grinnin’ that he might not have to go soon again,

monkey? What you make mock ob me he determined to carry “a lazy man’s

fo’?” asked Orchard, angrily. load.” Therefore he put a mackerel-kit on “Put down you’ tub, an’ butt me den,” his head, took a bucket in each hand, and was the little fellow’s reply. “Ain’t lax you, away he went—a walking reservoir. Pretty

ebry day, fo’ to butt me? Put down you’ soon he came bounding across the field,

tub.” bouncing from the cotton rows like a Thus “daring” him, June laid his cracker- ricochet shot, yelling at the top of his box upside down, a few feet in front of voice, “De Debble, de Debble, de Debble!” the irate Orchard, and backed off as if As usual, when in trouble, he came straight preparing for an acceptance of his chal- to me. All he could gasp was:

lenge. “Oh, de Debble, de Debble, de Debble! “Go ’way, chile. If I butt you, I kill you, Lawks-a-massy, Cappin, I see um de Deb-

shoo. What fo’ I go buttin’ sich a picka- ble!”

ninny like you, fo’?” “Where?” I asked, as well as laughing

“Put down dat tub!” was all the answer would let me. he had from June, who was posturing like “In de watah. I stoop down to de watah

a goat full of fight. ober yonder by de spring, an’ jus’ ez | “Go ’way, you sassy niggah! What fo’ gwine to scoop de watah in de bucket, dar

I put down de tub fo’ de likes ob you,” wuz de Debble dar, lookin’ right out de The halt and parley were what the little | watah at me. Oh, I ’m gwine to die! De strategist was after. Quick as a flash he Debble’s gwine to catch me, sho. Don’t let

charged like a ram, leaped from the um catch me, Mas’r Cappin!” He was cracker-box, shot forward as from a cata- terribly frightened—trembling, and clingpult, and landed his head with the force ing to me piteously. He had certainly seen

of a solid shot fair on Orchard’s waist- something. band! If Orchard had been hinged in the “Don’t be afraid, June,” I said consolmiddle he could not have doubled up more ingly. “You did not see any devil.” He quickly. Down came the tub, the shrimps _ backed up his positive assertion to the con-

flew in all directions, and before the trary with a favorite expression. “Fo’ a astonished giant comprehended what had troof, Cappin, I see um. Ain’t I know ’im happened, June was shrieking his delight when I see um? Dar wuz his two horns, and celebrating his victory behind a group an’ eyes afire, an’ mouf big ’nough fo’ to of soldiers who were cheering his exploit. swaller me right down kerplump,—ain’t | The promiscd quarter was paid to June, see um?”

and Orchard was compensated for his Nothing would convince him that he shrimps; but it was many a day before he had made a mistake,—and nothing ever forgave “dat grinnin’, buttin’, sassy brack did.

monkey.” For a moment I was frightened, too,

June was always the hero of his ad- when I went to the spring after the abanventures, but he was not always heroic. A doned buckets, and to see what was the few days after his appearance in camp, he matter: for, there in the water was re-

was despatched to fetch some water from flected a countenance of more than Satanic a spring under the protecting shade of a ugliness. As it quickly disappeared, a heavy

leaning live-oak some distance away, thud on the ground just beside me inacross the plain of cotton rows. In order clined me to follow in the footsteps of

A LITTLE CONTRABAND 157

a ; oj e miss-

June and to confess entire adoption of his the company. His likes and cists for the belief. An instant sufficed to show me that different men were strong, and new no the supposed demon was a large Angora compromise. Woe to the solr i" O CX

.eeSe (—Ge >. eee : goat, resting in the broad crotch of the cited June’s ire! His shoes wou eet leaning tree. The goat’s head and shoulders ing, his haversack mysteriously illed wit

were vaguely mirrored in the spring. sand, his blanket with nettles, his canteen June was no manner of use, so far as the with salt-water from the lake, and every performance of any duty was concerned, _ peculiarity would be pantomine u but in the camp he was a power which amusement of his comrades. He invariably

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would have been sadly missed. He was appeared on dress-parade in a unique unithe camp Jester. From reveille to taps, his form. A sardine-box carried his cartridges, merry pranks amused the men, his laugh a bit of string answered for belt, a forked kept all in good humor. He was circus, — stick for a gun. No man of the company clown, and side-show, combined. He could went through the parade exercises better, climb a tree, shake down a ’coon, and be and, if it pleased him to imitate the comback in time to be mixed with the pile of manding officer a few feet to the rear, the dogs and darkies in at the death. He could quivering line of muskets and red faces of run a rabbit to earth, see a squirrel in its the men bore testimony to the exactness of thickest hiding-place, throw a stone un- his mimicry.

erringly, and out-manceuver any man in He was once caught tying a pair of

158 CHARLES MOILVAINE wickedly clawed crabs into the coat-sleeve throughout the camp, but he wisely of one of his tormentors. The wags of the shouted his derision from a safe distance.

company decided to try him by court I employed a stray contraband to carry martial. The charge was “conduct pre- some of the lighter and more breakable judicial to good order and military dis- articles of my tent furniture, much to the cipline.” June pleaded his own cause man- disgust of June, and the breeding of not a fully. “What fo’ you sittin’ on me fo’? _ little jealousy in him. Taking advantage of Mar’s Cappin an’ Aunt Peggy is my boss; my being occupied away from my quarters, an’ Aunt Peggy ain’t yere no mo’. Le’ me the little joker told the fellow that he must

go. Woffer you sittin’ on me?” carry my trunk, bedding, camp-chest, and Notwithstanding the force and logic everything else that could be hung on him of his defense, he was ruthlessly sentenced —load enough for a camel. Upon my reto a term of imprisonment within the turn, I found June in the last contortions walls of an empty and headless pork-bar- of a laughing convulsion. Following with rel. In this predicament, he said indignantly my eye his pointing finger, in the direction to me, “See-um dis, Cappin! See-um dis! of our march, I saw in the distance a movCappin, fo’ goodness sake, come take-er- ing object resembling a pack-mule with a

me out. [ ‘Il butt dat co’t-ma’sh’l till um huge chest on his back and side loads neb’ go fishin’ or ’coon-huntin’ no mo’ fo’ reaching to the ground.

a week!” “See-um, dah, Cappin? See-um dat fool He kept his word. One of his persecutors niggah? "Im don’t know nuffin’ no mo’ dan narrowly escaped severe burns in the cook’s a punken. Dah he go, totin’ de chist, an’ fire, from being butted into the coals while trunk, an’ ebbryting. "Deed, Cappin, guess

lighting his pipe. Another was sent sprawl- dat niggah don’t run fas’ dis time, ef he ' ing into the lake by a well-calculated blow hol’ on to all he tote! Hi—yah!”

from June’s woolly head, while he was It was not long before it was generally washing his platter in its waters. Another known that an attack was to be made upon had his senses knocked out of him, being Charleston; that a march across John’s sent headlong while tying his shoes; and Island to the Stono River was to be folwith all, sooner or later, the account was lowed by a landing on James Island, under squared to June’s complete satisfaction. protection of the gunboats in rendezvous The delightful sojourn at Seabrook was _ there.

only too short. One morning there was a The march commenced; not one who stir at headquarters, a riding to and fro was in it will ever forget its miseries from of aides-de-camp, abustle among theorder- _ its beginning to its disastrous end. Under a lies, and the clerks were packing up their scorching sun, through the stench of putrid

papers. All of these signs indicated a move. swamps filled with rotting mussels, Soon came an order to strike tents and through chaparral alive with stinging injoin the main body of troops, three miles sects; across sanded plains, making the air

away, with my detachment. In the excite- quiver with burning reflections; amid ment of the move, June was in his glory. blinding, choking, clouds of dust—batteries Missing articles were found as tent floors tugged, cavalry plunged, and infantry trod were taken up, and the secret avenues were with indescribable sufferings. June, alone, discovered by which he obtained entrance seemed not to mind it. Astride a cannon, to the tents of his enemies. “That infernal mounted on a caisson, perched behind a

little Nigger June’ was in demand mounted soldier, or trotting alongside my

A LITTLE CONTRABAND 159 company, his quaint songs and antics as possible without waking him, well cheered the men and lightened many a knowing the deadly work planned for the step. Every haversack was open to him; morning, but his watchfulness was as keen every canteen was ready to quench his as that of a Bedouin of the desert. He surthirst; every hand would be outstretched prised me with the exclamation, “Mas’r to give him a lift over a difficult bit of road. Cappin, what you gwine to do? Whar you

In the long days and nights that fol- been goin’ to?” lowed, of murderous work and dangerous He was told, sharply, to lie down and go duty, nothing could prevent June from to sleep, and I added, “June, if you follow

taking part. The most positive orders me to-day, J will stand you on a barrel, would not keep him in camp; no guard- with a bayonet on each side of you, and house was tight enough to hold him. If make you hold a piece of ice in each hand I was doing duty with outlying pickets, until it is all melted.” This was the only on reconnaissance, or in pushing from the punishment for which he cared a particle, front a fighting skirmish-line, he would and the threat of it usually set him to belclimb a chimney-flue, slip through some lowing like an orphaned calf. Strange to chink he had made or found, dash through _ say, on this occasion it produced no marked

a window or dart between the legs of his effect; he seemed to feel that something of guard, and speed away with unerring scent more than usual importance was taking me

on my track. A tiny pair of black legs out at that time in the morning, armed moving swiftly from tree to tree, the pop and equipped. He came to me, and in the

of a woolly head from behind a log, a faint light passed his hand around my glistening of his bright eyes from some sword-belt to feel whether or not my rejungle, would give the first knowledge of volver was there. I seldom carried one,— his presence, and when detected, his laugh- never, indeed, unless there was an almost ing greeting always was, “Lor’, Mas’r Cap- certain prospect of its need. When his hand pin, what a time I ’s done been hab huntin’ touched its sheath, he took hold of my coatyou. Woffer you done go’ way fo’, an’ lebe- sleeve in a pleading way, and said, “Woffer

er-merP” you go widout Niggah June? Leave ’1m go He never allowed himself to be put on ‘long! Im git in de bush an’ shake his the defensive. No one wished to see him shirt an’ keep de Rebels from shootin’ hurt, so all tried to care for him, but it Mas’r Cappin.” was not possible; the little fellow, in his With a laugh at his idea of protection, I faithfulness, felt that it was his duty to told him that I would soon be back all take care of me, so all efforts to keep him _right,—to stay where he was. I left him

away and in safety were unavailing. looking disconsolately after me as I went One day, never to be forgotten—June out. 16, 1862,—a charge was made upon the Once in the heat of battle, when shells Confederate earthworks at Secessionville, were shrieking their horrible death-songs

South Carolina, and six hundred brave overhead, when black balls of iron tore men and true were laid low in front of the their way through ranks of living men, defenses. At an early hour on the morning when grape and canister, shrapnel and bul-

of that day, I was fastening my sword lets were raining death and wounds, the about me when June waked up where he smoke lifted, and through the ragged was lying curled up like a dog in the branches of a hedge in front of me,—not corner of my tent. I was dressing as quietly two hundred yards from the fort,—I

160 CHARLES MOILVAINE thought I saw a little black demon wildly a shirt; in the other was my haversack

waving a white flag. which I had left in my tent. He tried to “June!” T yelled; but the roar and rattle laugh when I knelt by him, as he feebly made my voice no more than the piping raised the haversack toward me. “I done of a child in a storm, and a belch of smoke fotch you you’ breakfas’, Mas’r Cappin. from the enemy’s guns rolled as a mighty Dar ’s sumpin to eat an’ drink in de hab-

wall between me and the vision. bersack. I done shaked my shirt an’ kep Such a battle could not last long. We de rebels from shootin’ Mas’r Cappin. Don’ were defeated, but the fort was nearly stan’ me on de bar’l, an’ put col’ ice in my

emptied of defenders. han’, dis time!”

When the wind shook out the air and He smiled, as he had often done before,

cleared it of its smoke and angry trembling, when he knew that he had the better of me,

heart-rending groans went up from that the haversack fell to the ground, and then,

stricken field. with his eyes resting upon me as if waiting During the hurried gathering of the for an assurance of forgiveness, he died. wounded, Corporal Russel came to me We laid him at the end of the long ditch with face pale, and eyes bloodshot. “Come,” where lay so many of his friends; and said he, “over by the hedge. June wants among those hundreds of graves was one

you.” at the head of which stood a piece of a I knew what he meant; the vision came splintered flagstaff, upon which a sincere back to me. There little June lay, shot to mourner had written, “Little June.” death. In one hand he clutched his rag of

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oe t 7 WHEN THOMAS TAKES HIS PEN 163

The training of a fractious child is plainly _ ae

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“"Thomas Jones, go straight upstairs and write that composition|’”’

BABY SYLVESTER by Bret Harte

T was at a little mining camp in the in the shanty; IJ could amuse myself with | California Sierras that he first dawned them. Or I could play with the baby.

upon me in all his grotesque sweetness. Do what? |

I had arrived early in the morning, but But they had already gone. I leaned not in time to intercept the friend who over the bank and called after their vanwas the object of my visit. He had gone ishing figures: “prospecting,’—so they told me on the “What did you say I could do?” river—and would not probably return until The answer floated slowly up on the late in the afternoon. They could not say hot, sluggish air: what direction he had taken; they could “Pla-a-y with the ba-by.” not suggest that I would be likely to find The lazy echoes took it up and tossed him if I followed. But it was the general it languidly from hill to hill, until Bald

opinion that I had better wait. Mountain opposite made some incoherent I looked around me. I was standing remark about the baby, and then all was upon the bank of the river; and, apparent- © still.

ly, the only other human beings in the I must have been mistaken. My friend world were my interlocutors, who were was not a man of family; there was not a even then just disappearing from my hori- woman within forty miles of the river zon down the steep bank toward the river’s camp; he never was so passionately de-

dry bed. I approached the edge of the voted to children as to import a luxury

bank. so expensive. I must have been mistaken.

Where could I wait? I turned my horse’s head toward the hill.

O, anywhere; down with them on the As we slowly climbed the narrow trail, river-bar, where they were working, if I the little settlement might have been some liked! Or I could make myself at home in exhumed Pompeian suburb, so deserted any of those cabins that I found lying and silent were its habitations. The open round loose. Or, perhaps it would be cooler doors plainly disclosed each rudely-furand pleasanter for me in my friend’s cabin _ nished interior,—the rough pine table, with

on the hill. Did I see those three large the scant equipage of the morning meal sugar-pines? And, a little to the right, a still standing; the wooden bunk, with its canvas roof and chimney over the bushes? tumbled and disheveled blankets. A golden Well, that was my friend’s,—that was Dick _ lizard—the very genius of desolate stillness

Sylvester’s cabin. I could stake my horse —had stopped breathless upon the threshin that little hollow, and just hang round old of one cabin; a squirrel peeped imputhere till he came. I would find some books dently into the window of another; a 164

BABY SYLVESTER 165 woodpecker, with the general flavor of ening would have repeopled these soliundertaking which distinguishes that bird, tudes with life and energy, I am afraid | withheld his sepulchral hammer from the _ began to confidently look for, and would coffin-lid of the roof on which he was pro- have kissed without hesitation. fessionally engaged, as we passed. For a But I found none of these. Here was the moment, I half-regretted that I had not evidence of my friend’s taste and refine-

accepted the invitation to the river-bed; ment in the hearth swept scrupulously but, the next moment, a breeze swept up clean, in the picturesque arrangement of the long, dark cafion, and the waiting files the fur skins that covered the floor and of the pines beyond bent toward me in furniture, and the striped serdpe lying on salutation. I think my horse understood the wooden couch. Here were the walls as well as myself that it was the cabins - fancifully papered with illustrations from that made the solitude human, and there- the London News; here was the wood-cut fore unbearable, for he quickened his pace, portrait of Mr. Emerson over the chimney, and with a gentle trot brought me to the quaintly framed with blue jays’ wings; edge of the wood and the three pines that here were his few favorite books on the stood like videttes before the Sylvester out- swinging shelf; and here, lying upon the

post. couch, the latest copy of Punch. Dear Unsaddling my horse in the little hol- Dick! The flour-sack was sometimes empty, low, I unslung the long riata from the sad- but the gentle satirist seldom missed his dle-bow, and tethering him to a young weekly visit.

sapling, turned toward the cabin. But I I threw myself on the couch and tried had gone only a few steps when I heard to read. But I soon exhausted my interest a quick trot behind me, and poor Pom- in my friend’s library, and lay there starposo, with every fibre tingling with fear, ing through the open door on the green was at my heels. I looked hurriedly around. hillside beyond. The breeze again sprang

The breeze had died away, and only an up, and a delicious coolness, mixed with occasional breath from the deep-chested the rare incense of the woods, stole through woods, more like a long sigh than any the cabin. The slumbrous droning of bumarticulate sound, or the dry singing of a ble-bees outside the canvas roof, the faint cicala in the heated cafion, were to be cawing of rooks on the opposite mountain, heard. I examined the ground carefully and the fatigue of my morning ride, began for rattlesnakes, but in vain. Yet here was to droop my eyelids. I pulled the serdpe Pomposo shivering from his arched neck over me, as a precaution against the freshto his sensitive haunches, his very flanks ening mountain breeze, and in a few mopulsating with terror. I soothed him as ments was asleep.

well as I could, and then walked to the I do not remember how long I slept. I edge of the wood and peered into its dark must have been conscious, however, durrecesses. The bright flash of a bird’s wing, ing my slumber, of my inability to keep or the quick dart of a squirrel, was all I myself covered by the serdpe, for I awoke saw. I confess it was with something of once or twice, clutching it with a despair-

superstitious expectation that I again ing hand as it was disappearing over the turned toward the cabin. A fairy child, at- foot of the couch. Then I became suddenly

tended by Titania and her train, lying in aroused to the fact that my efforts to rean expensive cradle, would not have sur- tain it were resisted by some equally perprised me; a Sleeping Beauty, whose awak- sistent force, and, letting it go, I was horri-

166 BRET HARTE fed at seeing it swiftly drawn under the muzzle. His fur was excessively long, couch. At this point I sat up completely thick, and soft as eider down; the cushions awake; for immediately after, what seemed _ of flesh beneath, perfectly infantine in their to be an exaggerated muff began to emerge _ texture and contour. He was so very young

from under the couch. Presently it ap- that the palms of his half-human feet were peared fully, dragging the serépe after it. still tender as a baby’s. Except for the There was no mistaking it now—it was a_ bright blue, steely hooks, half-sheathed in baby bear. A mere suckling, it was true,— his little toes, there was not a single harsh a helpless roll of fat and fur,—but, unmis- outline or detail in his plump figure. He

takably, a grizzly cub. was as free from angles as one of Leda’s

I cannot recall anything more irresistibly offspring. Your caressing hand sank away ludicrous than its aspect as it slowly raised in his fur with dreamy languor. To look

its small wondering eyes to mine. It was at him long was an intoxication of the so much taller on its haunches than its senses; to pat him was a wild delirium; shoulders,—its fore-legs were so dispropor- to embrace him, an utter demoralization tionately small,—that in walking, its hind- of the intellectual faculties.

feet invariably took precedence. It was When he had finished the sugar, he perpetually pitching forward over its rolled out of the door with a half-diffident, pointed, inoffensive nose, and recovering half-inviting look in his eye, as if he exitself always, after these involuntary som- pected me to follow. I did so, but the ersaults, with the gravest astonishment. To sniffing and snorting of the keen-scented add to its preposterous appearance, one of Pomposo in the hollow, not only revealed

its hind-feet was adorned by a shoe of the cause of his former terror, but decided Sylvester’s, into which it had accidentally me to take another direction. After a moand inextricably stepped. As this somewhat ment’s hesitation, he concluded to go with impeded its first impulse to fly, it turned me, although I am satisfied, from a certain

to me; and then, possibly recognizing in impish look in his eye, that he fully unthe stranger the same species as its master, derstood and rather enjoyed the fright of it paused. Presently, it slowly raised itself Pomposo. As he rolled along at my side, on its hind-legs, and vaguely and depre- with a gait not unlike a drunken sailor, catingly waved a baby paw, fringed with I discovered that his long hair concealed little hooks of steel. I took the paw and a leather collar around his neck, which shook it gravely. From that moment we _ bore for its legend the single word, “Baby!” were friends. The little affair of the serépe I recalled the mysterious suggestion of the

was forgotten. two miners. This, then, was the “baby” Nevertheless, I was wise enough to ce- with whom I was to “play.” ment our friendship by an act of delicate How we “played;” how Baby allowed courtesy. Following the direction of his me to roll him down hill, crawling and eyes, I had no difficulty in finding, on a__ puffing up again each time, with perfect shelf near the ridge-pole, the sugar-box good humor; how he climbed a young sapand the square lumps of white sugar that ling after my Panama hat, which I had even the poorest miner is never without. “shied” into one of the topmost branches; While he was eating them I had time to how after getting it he refused to descend examine him more closely. His body was until it suited his pleasure; how when a silky, dark, but exquisitely modulated he did come down he persisted in walking grey, deepening to black in his paws and about on three legs, carrying my hat, a

BABY SYLVESTER 167 crushed and shapeless mass, clasped to his my office in San Francisco, | noticed a let-

breast with the remaining one; how I ter bearing Sylvester’s familiar hand. But missed him at last, and finally discovered it was post-marked “Stockton,” and | him seated on a table in one of the ten- opened it with some anxiety at once. Its antless cabins, with a bottle of syrup be- contents were as follows: tween his paws, vainly endeavoring to ex-

tract its contents—these and other details O Franx!—Don’t you remember what of that eventful day I shall not weary the |, agreed upon anent the baby? Well, reader with now. Enough that when Dick consider me as dead for the next six Sylvester returned, I was pretty well fagged months, or gone where cubs can’t follow

out, and the baby was rolled up, an im- ye__Fast. ] know you love the baby; but mense bolster at the foot of the couch, 4, you think, dear boy,—now, really, do

asleep. Sylvester’s first words after our you think you could be a father to it?

greeting were: Consider this well. You are young, ls n’t he delicious? . oss thoughtless, well-meaning enough; but

‘Perfectly. Wher e did you get him? . dare you take upon yourself the functions Lying under his dead mother, five miles of guide, genius or guardian to one so from here,” said Dick, lighting his pipe. young and guileless? Could you be the Knocked her over at fifty yards; perfectly trentor to this Telemachus? Think of the clean shot—never moved afterwards! Baby temptations of a metropolis. Look at the crawled out, scared but unhurt. She must question well, and let me know speedily, have been carrying him in her mouth, his ol gotfor him 1 as ’ve far ashj thisf place, an d and dropped him when she faced me, for he ’s kicking up an awful row in the hotel-

he was n’tcos more thanand three days old, 4 ;like d 7 -a4:maniac. yey, yard, rattling his and chain

:up byyAdams telegraph at once. Express at seven o'clock SYLVESTER. not steady on his pins. He takes the only 1 4 me know by tel h milk that comes to the settlement—brought

every morning. They say he looks like P. S—Of course he ’s grown a little, and me. Do you think so?” asked Dick, with does n’t take things always as quietly as perfect gravity, stroking his hay-colored he did. He dropped rather heavily on two moustachios, and evidently assuming his of Watson’s “purps” last week, and

best expression. snatched old Watson himself, bald-headed, I took leave of the baby early the next for interfering. You remember Watson: morning in Sylvester’s cabin, and out of for an intelligent man, he knows very little respect to Pomposo’s feelings, rode by with- of California fauna. How are you fixed for

out any postscript of expression. But the bears on Montgomery street,—I mean in night before I had made Sylvester sol- regard to corrals and things?

emnly swear, that inhimself the event of any S separation between and Baby, it should revert to me. “At the same time,” P. P. S.—He’s got some new tricks. The

he had added, “‘it’s only fair to say that I boys have been teaching him to put up don’t think of dying just yet, old fellow, his hands with them. He slings an ugly and I don’t know of anything else that left—S. would part the cub and me.”

Two months after this conversation, as I am afraid that my desire to possess I was turning over the morning’s mail at myself of Baby overcame all other consid-

168 BRET HARTE erations, and I telegraphed an affirmative “O dear no,” I exclaimed, with considerat once to Sylvester. When I reached my able relief; “the mother is dead, you know. lodgings late that afternoon, my landlady Sylvester—that is my friend, who sent this was awaiting me with a telegram. It was —shot her when the Baby was only three

two lines from Sylvester: days old——” But the expression of Mrs. Brown’s face at this moment was so alarm-

All right. Baby goes down on night-boat. ing, that I saw that nothing but the fullest

Be a father to him.—S. explanation would save me. Hastily, and I fear not very coherently, I told her It was due, then, at one o’clock that all. night. For a moment IJ was staggered at She relaxed sweetly. She said I had my own precipitation. I had as yet made no frightened her with my talk about lions. preparations,—had said nothing to my Indeed, I think my picture of poor Baby— landlady about her new guest. I expected albeit a trifle highly-colored—touched her to arrange everything in time; and now, motherly heart. She was even a little vexed through Sylvester’s indecent haste, that at what she called Sylvester’s “hard-hearted-

time had been shortened twelve hours. ness.” Still, I was not without some apSomething, however, must be done at prehension. It was two months since | once. I turned to Mrs. Brown. I had great had seen him, and Sylvester’s vague allureliance in her maternal instincts; I had sion to his “slinging an ugly left” pained that still greater reliance, common to our me. I looked at sympathetic little Mrs. sex, in the general tender-heartedness of Brown, and the thought of Watson’s pups pretty women. But I confess I was alarmed. covered me with guilty confusion. Yet, with a feeble smile, I tried to introduce Mrs. Brown had agreed to sit up with the subject with classical ease and light- me until he arrived. One o’clock came, ness. I even said, “If Shakespeare’s Athe- but no Baby. Two o’clock—three o'clock nian clown, Mrs. Brown, believed that a passed. It was almost four when there was lion among ladies was a dreadful thing, a wild clatter of horses’ hoofs outside, and what must——” But here I broke down, with a jerk a wagon stopped at the door.

for Mrs. Brown, with the awful intuition In an instant I had opened it and conof her sex, I saw at once was more occu-_ fronted a stranger. Almost at the same mopied with my manner than my speech. So ment, the horses attempted to run away I tried a business brusquerie, and, placing with the wagon.

the telegram in her hand, said hurriedly, The stranger’s appearance was, to say “We must do something about this at the least, disconcerting. His clothes were once. It’s perfectly absurd, but he will be badly torn and frayed; his linen sack hung here at one to-night. Beg thousand pardons, from his shoulders like a herald’s apron; but business prevented my speaking before one of his hands was bandaged; his face ——” and paused, out of breath and cour- scratched, and there was no hat on his

age. disheveled head. To add to the general

Mrs. Brown read the telegram gravely, effect, he had evidently sought relief from lifted her pretty eyebrows, turned the pa- his woes in drink, and he swayed from per over and looked on the other side, and _ side to side as he clung to the door-handle; then, in a remote and chilling voice, asked and, in a very thick voice, stated that he me if she understood me to say that the had “suthin” for me outside. When he had

mother was coming also. finished, the horses made another plunge.

BABY SYLVESTER 169 Mrs. Brown thought they must be and ruining his digestion with the delica-

frightened at something. cies of her larder; but I at last got him “Frightened!” laughed the stranger, with completely rolled up in the corner of my bitter irony. “Oh no! Hossish aint fright- room and asleep. I lay awake some time ened! On’y ran away four timesh comin’ later with plans for his future. I finally here. On no! Nobody’s frightened. Every- determined to take him to Oakland, where thin’s all ri’. Aint it, Bill?” he said, address) I had built a little cottage and always

ing the driver. “On’y been overboard spent my Sundays, the very next day. And twish; knocked down a hatchway once. in the midst of a rosy picture of domestic Thash nothin’! On’y two men unner doc- felicity, I fell asleep.

tor’s han’s at Stockton. Thash nothin’! When I awoke it was broad day. My Six hunner dollarsh cover all dammish.” eyes at once sought the corner where Baby I was too much disheartened to reply, had been lying. But he was gone. I sprang but moved toward the wagon. The stranger from the bed, looked under it, searched eyed me with an astonishment that almost the closet, but in vain. The door was still

sobered him. locked; but there were the marks of his

“Do you reckon to tackle that animile blunted claws upon the sill of the window, yourself?” he asked, as he surveyed me that I had forgotten to close. He had evi-

from head to foot. dently escaped that way,—but where? The I did not speak, but, with an appearance window opened upon a balcony, to which of boldness I was far from feeling, walked the only other entrance was through the

to the wagon and called “Baby!” hall. He must be still in the house. “All ri’. Cash loose them straps, Bill, My hand was already upon the bell-

and stan’ clear.” rope, but I stayed it in time. If he had not The straps were cut loose, and Baby— made himself known, why should I dis-

the remorseless, the terrible—quietly tum- _turb the house? I dressed myself hurriedly, bled to the ground, and rolling to my side, and slipped into the hall. The first object

rubbed his foolish head against me. that met my eyes was a boot lying upon I think the astonishment of the two the stairs. It bore the marks of Baby’s men was beyond any vocal expression. teeth; and as I looked along the hall, I Without a word the drunken stranger got saw too plainly that the usual array of into the wagon and drove away. freshly-blackened boots and shoes before And Baby? He had grown, it is true, the lodgers’ doors was not there. As I a trifle larger; but he was thin, and bore ascended the stairs I found another, but the marks of evident ill-usage. His beauti- with the blacking carefully licked off. On

ful coat was matted and unkempt, and_ the third floor were two or three more his claws—those bright steel hooks—had boots, slightly mouthed; but at this point been ruthlessly pared to the quick. His eyes Baby’s taste for blacking had evidently were furtive and restless, and the old ex- _palled. A little further on was a ladder,

pression of stupid good humor had leading to an open scuttle. I mounted changed to one of intelligent distrust. His the ladder, and reached the flat roof, that Intercourse with mankind had evidently formed a continuous level over the row of quickened his intellect without broadening houses to the corner of the street. Behind

his moral nature. the chimney on the very last roof someI had great difficulty in keeping Mrs. thing was lurking. It was the fugitive Brown from smothering him in blankets Baby. He was covered with dust and dirt

170 BRET HARTE and fragments of glass. But he was sitting tle; but on her shouting, “Away wid yees,”

on his hind-legs, and was eating an enor- he instantly fled. mous slab of pea-nut candy, with a look of I sat through this recital with cheeks mingled guilt and infinite satisfaction. He that burned uncomfortably; nor was I the even, I fancied, slightly stroked his stom- less embarrassed on raising my eyes to ach with his disengaged fore-paw, as I meet Mrs. Brown's fixed curiously and approached. He knew that I was looking mischievously on mine. As soon as I could for him, and the expression of his eye make my escape from the table, I did so; said plainly, “The past, at least, is secure.” and running rapidly up stairs, sought refI hurried him, with the evidences of his uge from any possible inquiry in my own guilt, back to the scuttle, and descended room. Baby was still asleep in the corner. on tip-toe to the floor beneath. Providence It would not be safe to remove him until favored us; I met no one on the stairs, the lodgers had gone down town; and |] and his own cushioned tread was inaudi- was revolving in my mind the expediency ble. I think he was conscious of the dangers of keeping him until night veiled his ob-

of detection, for he even forebore to trusive eccentricity from the public eye, breathe, or much less chew the last mouth- when there came a cautious tap at my ful he had taken; and he skulked at my door. I opened it. Mrs. Brown slipped in side, with the syrup dropping from his quietly, closed the door softly, stood with motionless jaws. I think he would have her back against it and her hand on the silently choked to death just then, for my knob, and beckoned me mysteriously tosake; and it was not until I had reached wards her. Then she asked, in a low voice: my room again, and threw myself panting “Is hair-dye poisonous?” on the sofa, that I saw how near strangu- I was too confounded to speak.

lation he had been. He gulped once or “QO do! you know what I mean,” she twice, apologetically, and then walked to said, impatiently. “This stuff.” She prothe corner of his own accord, and rolled duced suddenly from behind her a bottle himself up like an immense sugar-plum, with a Greek label—so long as to run two sweating remorse and treacle at every pore. or three times spirally around it from top I locked him in when I went to break- to bottom. “He says it is n’t a dye; it ’s a fast, when I found Mrs. Brown’s lodgers vegetable preparation, for invigoratin a state of intense excitement over cer- ing——” tain mysterious events of the night before, “Who says?” I asked, despairingly. and the dreadful revelations of the morn- “Why, Mr. Parker, of course,” said Mrs. ing. It appeared that burglars had entered Brown, severely, with the air of having the block from the scuttles; that being sud- repeated the name a great many times,— denly alarmed, they had quitted our house “the old gentleman in the room above. without committing any depredation, drop- The simple question I want to ask,” she ping even the boots they had collected in continued, with the calm manner of one the halls; but that a desperate attempt had who has just convicted another of gross been made to force the till in the confec- ambiguity of language, “is only this: If tioner’s shop on the corner, and that the some of this stuff were put in a saucer and glass show-cases had been ruthlessly left carelessly on the table, and a child or smashed. A courageous servant in No. 4 a baby or a cat, or any young animal, had seen a masked burglar, on his hands should come in at the window and drink and knees, attempting to enter their scut- it up—a whole saucer full—because it had

BABY SYLVESTER 171 a sweet taste, would it be likely to hurt where his incoherent ravings were luckily

them?” taken for the earlier indications of delirium I cast an anxious glance at Baby sleeping tremens.

peacefully in the corner, and a very grate- It was nearly midnight when I reached ful one at Mrs. Brown, and said I did n’t my little cottage on the outskirts of Oak-

think it would. land; and it was with a feeling of relief “Because,” said Mrs. Brown, loftily, as and security that I entered, locked the door, she opened the door, “I thought if it was and turned him loose in the hall, satisfied poisonous, remedies might be used in time. that henceforward his depredations would Because,” she added suddenly, abandon- be limited to my own property. He was

ing her lofty manner and wildly rushing very quiet that night, and after he had to the corner, with a frantic embrace of tried to mount the hat-rack, under the the unconscious Baby, “because if any mistaken impression that it was intended nasty stuff should turn its boofull hair a for his own gymnastic exercise, and horrid green or a naughty pink, it would knocked all the hats off, he went peacebreak its own muzzer’s heart, it would!” ably to sleep on the rug.

But before I could assure Mrs. Brown In a week, with the exercise afforded of the inefficiency of hair-dye as an internal him by the run of a large, carefully-boarded application, she had darted from the room. _ enclosure, he recovered his health, strength,

That night, with the secrecy of default- spirits, and much of his former beauty. His

ers, Baby and I decamped from Mrs. presence was unknown to my neighbors, Brown’s. Distrusting the too emotional na- although it was noticeable that horses inture of that noble animal, the horse, I had variably “shied” in passing to the windrecourse to a hand-cart, drawn by a stout ward of my house, and that the baker and

Irishman, to convey my charge to the milkman had great difficulty in the deterry. Even then, Baby refused to go un- livery of their wares in the morning, and

less I walked by the cart, and at times indulged in unseemly and unnecessary

rode in it. profanity in so doing.

“I wish,” said Mrs. Brown, as she stood At the end of the week, I determined to by the door wrapped in an immense shawl, invite a few friends to see the Baby, and and saw us depart, “I wish it looked less to that purpose wrote a number of formal

solemn—less like a pauper’s funeral.” invitations. After descanting, at some I must admit, that as I walked by the length, on the great expense and danger cart that night, I felt very much as if I attending his capture and training, I ofwere accompanying the remains of some fered a programme of the performances

humble friend to his last resting-place; of the “Infant Phenomenon of Sierran and that, when I was obliged to ride in it, Solitudes,” drawn up into the highest pro. I never could entirely convince myself that fessional profusion of alliteration and capI was not helplessly overcome by liquor, or ital letters. A few extracts will give the the victim of an accident, en route to the reader some idea of his educational proghospital. But, at last, we reached the ferry. _ ress:

On the boat I think no one discovered Baby except a drunken man, who ap- 1. He will, rolled up in a Round Ball, roll

proached me to ask for a light for his down the Wood Shed, Rapidly, illuscigar, but who suddenly dropped it and trating His manner of Escaping from fled in dismay to the gentlemen’s cabin, His Enemy in His Native Wilds.

172 BRET HARTE 2. He will Ascend the Well Pole, and re- I saw it all in a flash. I ran to the barn; move from the Very Top a Hat, and the keg of “golden syrup,” purchased only as much of the Crown and Brim _ the day before, lay empty upon the floor.

thereof as May be Permitted. There were sticky tracks all over the en3. He will perform in a pantomime, de- closure, but still no Baby. scriptive of the Conduct of the Big “There’s something moving the ground Bear, The Middle-Sized Bear, and _ over there by that pile of dirt,” said Barker. The Little Bear of the Popular Nurs- = He was right; the earth was shaking in

ery Legend. one corner of the enclosure like an earth-

4. He will shake his chain Rapidly, show- quake. I approached cautiously. I saw, ing his Manner of striking Dismay what I had not before noticed, that the and Terror in the Breasts of Wan- ground was thrown up; and there, in the

derers in Ursine Wildernesses. middle of an immense grave-like cavity, crouched Baby Sylvester, still digging, and

The morning of the exhibition came, slowly, but surely, sinking from sight in but an hour before the performance the a mass of dust and clay. wretched Baby was missing. The Chinese What were his intentions? Whether he cook could not indicate his whereabouts. 1 was stung by remorse, and wished to hide

searched the premises thoroughly, and himself from my reproachful eyes, or then, in despair, took my hat and hurried whether he was simply trying to dry his out into the narrow lane that led toward syrup-besmeared coat, I never shall know, the open fields and the woods beyond. But for that day, alas! was his last with me. I found no trace nor track of Baby Sylves- He was pumped upon for two hours, at

ter. I returned, after an hour’s fruitless the end of which time he still yielded a search, to find my guests already assembled thin treacle. He was then taken and care-

on the rear verandah. I briefly recounted fully enwrapped in blankets and locked my disappointment, my probable loss, and up in the store-room. The next morning

begged their assistance. he was gone! The lower portion of the “Why,” said a Spanish friend, who window sash and pane were gone too. His prided himself on his accurate knowledge successful experiments on the fragile texof English, to Barker, who seemed to be ture of glass at the confectioner’s, on the trying vainly to rise from his reclining first day of his entrance to civilization, had position on the verandah, “Why do you not been lost upon him. His first essay at not disengage yourself from the verandah combining cause and effect ended in his of our friend? and why, in the name of _ escape. Heaven, do you attach to yourself so much Where he went, where he hid, who capof this thing, and make to yourself such tured him if he did not succeed in reaching unnecessary contortion? Ah,” he continued, the foot-hills beyond Oakland, even the suddenly withdrawing one of his own feet offer of a large reward, backed by the etfrom the verandah with an evident effort, forts of an intelligent police, could not ‘Tam myself attached! Surely it is some- discover. I never saw him again from that

thing here!” day until— It evidently was. My guests were all ris- Did I see him? I was in a horse-car on ing with difficulty,—the floor of the ver- Sixth avenue, a few days ago, when the andah was covered with some glutinous horses suddenly became unmanageable

substance. It was—syrup! and left the track for the sidewalk, amid

BABY SYLVESTER 173 the oaths and execrations of the driver. I leaned from the car-window and called, Immediately in front of the car a crowd softly, “Baby!” But he did not heed. I had gathered around two performing bears closed the window. The car was just mov-

and a showman. One of the animals— ing on, when he suddenly turned, and, thin, emaciated, and the mere wreck of either by accident or design, thrust a callous his native strength—attracted my attention. paw through the glass.

I] endeavored to attract his. He turned a “It’s worth a dollar-and-half to put in a pair of bleared, sightless eyes in my direc- mew pane,” said the conductor, “if folks tion, but there was no sign of recognition. will play with bears!——”

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THE BLACK SHEEP’S COAT by Cornelia Meigs

HE orange-red beam of light fromthe with broad, square shoulders where the

| swinging ship’s-lantern dipped and others had the stoop of scholars and clerks, swayed from side to side of the nar- whose open brow and clear, merry eyes row cabin. It showed the red coat of the were in contrast to the serious and stern soldier who sat at the table; it lit the pale faces of his companions. face of Peter Perkins, the stoop-shouldered “This Mayflower is a rolling ship,” comclerk; it shone on Granny Fletcher’s click- plained the old woman who was knitting; ing knitting-needles, and, in a far corner, “it has tumbled my ball of yarn out of my it dropped across the white paper upon lap so many times that I will even let it which Master John Carver’s goose-quill go where it wills for a while.” pen was moving so busily. Once in a while, The gray ball, slowly unwinding, rolled at long intervals the light swung so far, across the cabin toward Andrew’s hidingwith the plunging of the ship, that it pene- place, but for the space of a few minutes trated even the cranny behind the big no one noticed it. The soldier had reached beam where Andrew Newell was crouch- the climax of the story of one of his caming, with his knees doubled up to his chin _ paigns. and his head bowed, to keep out of sight “I drew my sword,” he was saying, “but

in the shadow. there were five cut-throat Spaniards all

“One more dip like that,” the boy was rushing upon me at once. I struck—” thinking desperately, as the exploring ray “When last you told us that tale, Captain seemed to seek him out of fell purpose, Standish, you made it only four,” Granny “and the whole company will see me. How Fletcher interrupted tartly, “three big ones will it fare with me then, I wonder? Will and a little one; and the time before—”

they cast me overboard?” “Never mind the other times, woman,” So far, however, the little company was returned Standish, testily. The lurching of quite unconscious of his presence. Master the ship had spilled the ashes from his Carver laid down his pen and began to pipe, serving to irritate him still more, so read aloud in a low voice to the two men __ that he added savagely, “We will all have

who sat near him, David Kritchell and tales to tell soon, I will wager, of Indians

William Bradford. that burn and scalp and slay every ChrisThe hidden boy could not see the first tian that they see.” two, but he had a full view of William “Heaven have mercy!” cried the granny, Bradford, who sat beyond, a young man_ casting up her eyes. “Such dangers as lie 174

THE BLACK SHEEP'S COAT 175 before us! Perhaps those who turned back put off for the other vessel. For a whole

on the Speedwell did wisely, after all. day of light winds he had waited in an

Where is my ball of yarn?” agony of suspense, while they lay close to It was very near to Andrew, but the the Speedwell, never seeming to get so name of the Speedwell nad made him far away that he was safe from being rewince and draw himself closer into his turned to her. Toward evening, however, corner. It was on that very ship that he the breeze freshened, the two ships had should have been sailing back to England, drawn apart, and while the whole com-

as he well knew. pany was gathered in the bow to see the His uncle, the only relative he had in last of their companion vessel, Andrew the world and no very kindly one at that, had slipped below to hide in some better had agreed to take the boy with him on place than on the wet, open deck of the this great adventure of planting a Puritan Mayflower. A footstep in the passage had colony in the New World. But with the alarmed him so that he had dashed into first day of the voyage, the worthy man’s the main cabin and crawled behind a beam, ardor had cooled and he had been glad for want of a better refuge. Here he still enough to avail himself of the chance of lurked, cramped, aching, and hungry, wonreturn when the leaky Speedwell turned dering how soon the lantern or the ball back. A hasty council had been held in the of yarn would be the means of betraying Mayflower’s cabin as to who should go on him. and who should be carried back to Eng- Just as he felt sure that Granny Fletcher’s land, at which gathering Andrew, in spite sharp eye must have caught sight of his of his uncle’s protests, had pushed into the protruding elbow, there came a diversion front rank of those who wished to go for- in the sound of scurrying feet on the com-

ward. panionway and in the headlong entry of “We are already overcrowded, and it is two excited girls, one of about fourteen

the able-bodied men that we need,” John _ years old, the other twelve.

Carver had said. “Qh, Father,” cried the elder one, seizing “And those who will make solid and David Kritchell’s arm, “one of the sailors worthy citizens,” Peter Perkins had added just helped me to climb up to look into the

at his elbow, with an unfriendly glance pen where the sheep and the poultry are, at Andrew’s shabby coat. William Brad- and what do you think! There is a little ford was the only one who had looked at new lamb amongst them, not more than him kindly, and even he had shaken his a day old!”

head. “Nay, my dear Drusilla,” her father re“It is a great enterprise,” he said, “but monstrated, “do you not see that this is no

we must needs abide by the rule of the time to speak of such matters? You are elders as to who is to go and who must interrupting Master Carver.”

return.” “There is no harm wrought,” John That shabby coat was now the worse for Carver said; “she brings good news, for

a great rent in the shoulder and a smear surely it promises well that our flocks of tar on the sleeve, put there when An- should already begin to increase.” drew had squeezed into a narrow hiding- “But it is a—a black sheep,” Drusilla deplace between two great coils of rope, in- clared. “You cannot think how strange it stead of entering the crowded boat that looks among the white ones!”

176 CORNELIA MEIGS “A black sheep?” cried Granny Fletcher, reproaches, and rebukes, with Granny in shrill consternation. “There is a sign of Fletcher’s shrill scolding rising high above

bad luck, indeed! It is enough to send us all the rest, until John Carver struck his all to the bottom. A black cat’s crossing hand upon the table for silence.

our path could not be a worse omen.” “We must not talk of what the boy has “We are scarcely in danger from the done, but of what we are to do with him,” passing of any black cats,” William Brad- he began. “He is amongst us, without ford observed, with twinkling eyes. “As friends—” for the black lamb, it shall be your very “And without money to pay his passown, Mistress Drusilla, since it was you age, I’ll be bound,” observed Peter Perkins,

who brought us tidings of it. I think this in an undertone. “Look at his coat; look expedition of ours is too earnest and at his dirty face! This is no company for weighty an affair to be brought to ruin by waifs and ragamuffins. Born to die on the

one black sheep.” gallows, that is the sort he is!”

“Nay, nay, we are as good as lost al- The Pilgrims, while few of them were ready,” wailed the granny, so voluble in rich, were nearly all of that thrifty class her lamenting that John Carver was forced which had little patience with careless pov-

to tell her sternly to hold her peace. erty. In their eyes, Andrew’s ragged coat “Cobwebs and moonshine!” exclaimed was less to be forgiven than his uninvited Miles Standish, filling up his pipe, “There appearance among them. are enough straight swords and ready mus- Drusilla was tugging at her father’s el-

kets in this company to drive away any bow. “Think how much he wanted to

sort of bad luck.” come, to dare all this for the sake of seeing Granny Fletcher, much subdued, got up the New World,” she whispered.

to fetch her yarn, which still rolled back “It is not zeal for our faith that has led and forth at the far end of the cabin. The him,” said Peter Perkins, overhearing her, crouching boy held his breath as it moved “but mere love of adventure.” first toward him, then away, and then, with “And is love of adventure so wicked a a sudden plunge of the ship, tumbled di- thing?” questioned Bradford, his deep, rectly into his lap, so that he and the old quiet voice over-riding all the buzz of exwoman stooping to grasp it were brought cited talk. “I can understand why the boy face to face. The poor soul’s nerves were wished to go with us and I will be respon-

too badly shaken to withstand the shock sible for him. You have, many of you, of seeing that unexpected, tar-streaked brought servants, bound to you to repay countenance so close to her own. their passage by a year or two years of la“The bogy-man, the evil one himself bor. This lad shall be bound to me in the come to destroy us all!” she screamed in same way and I will stand surety for him. such terror that all in the cabin rose to Do you agree?” he said to Andrew; “will

their feet. you serve mer” “Come forth, whoever is there,” com- Did he agree! Andrew felt, as he crossed manded Bradford, sternly. the cabin to his supporter’s side, that he It was in such manner that Andrew would die for this young elder who stood Newell, gentleman adventurer at the age of among his gray-haired seniors and gave fifteen, made his appearance as a member the boy the only friendly smile in all that of the company of the Pilgrim Fathers. hostile company.

There followed an uproar of questions, “He will bring us ill luck,” he heard

THE BLACK SHEEP'S COAT 177 Granny Fletcher whisper to her neighbor. always prophesying, came to an end sud-

“Is not one black sheep enough for our denly just when they were beginning to

voyage?” feel that life on the high seas must last “Born to die on the gallows, I know the forever. Andrew and Drusilla had come on

look of them,” Peter Perkins returned, deck before the others one chill, early

wagging his head. morning in November, a morning of light Through the long days of the voyage winds from the west, with the wide sea

that followed, those two seemed like watch- still stretching endlessly all about them. ful, sharp-tongued ghosts that haunted Then, “Oh, Andrew!” “Oh, Mistress DruAndrew’s footsteps. Whatever went amiss, _ Silla!” each cried to the other in the same they laid the blame upon him, whatever _ breath, for each had perceived the same

he did was bound, in their eyes, to be thing. The sharp odor of salt spray, the

wrong. sting of the sea wind, had altered strangely; “There are always scolds in every com- there came instead warm puffs of air pany,” Bradford told him one day, when across the water, while a line like a dark the reproaches of his two enemies seemed cloud stretched along the horizon. They past bearing. “Whether such persons wear had reached America at last!

breeches or petticoats, they are just the That going ashore—how they had same, and real men must learn to close dreamed of it, and how unlike it was to

their ears to them.” what they had thought! They were used Day by day Andrew grew to admire to a land that was green through most of ever more this man who had befriended the winter, so that they looked with dishim. Bradford’s kindness, his good sense, may at the brown, bare woods, the unand the steady burning of the fire of his familiar, somber green of the pines, and enthusiasm made him stand out from all the line of rolling hills in the distance. the rest, since amid the depression and They coasted along the shore for days, the deadly weariness of the long voyage finally choosing an abiding-place merely he was ever cheerful, confident, and cer- because winter was coming close and some

tain of their success. decision must be made. The men whe “I was only of your age when I first landed first reported that there was high joined the company of the dissenters, my- open ground, a cheerful, chattering stream self,” he told Andrew once, “and I looked of fresh water, and a good prospect over with all a boy’s wonder on the ups and__ both sea and land.

downs, the bickerings and complaints, the “We also caught sight of four Indians discouragements of their venture in estab- and a dog,” Captain Standish said, “but lishing a church and in making their pil- they stayed not for our coming and stopped grimage to Holland. But now I can see only to whistle to their beast before they that it was mere human nature, and that ran away. Yet we thought we saw them there is real patience and courage in the later, peeping and peering among the for-

heart of every one of them.” est trees.”

Hostility toward Andrew abated some- The next morning they came ashore all what during the voyage, although, to the together, with bags and bundles and preend, Bradford, Carver, David Kritchell, cious possessions, with the swine and the and his two daughters were the only ones poultry and the bleating sheep from the who treated him with any real kindness. pen amidships, Drusilla Kritchell could And that voyage, even as Bradford was scarcely be separated from her beloved

178 CORNELIA MEIGS black lamb, but Andrew, who was to go Carver, simply, and every head was bowed.

in the boat with such of the livestock as The service was a short one, but at the could not swim, promised that he would end of it the anxious faces had relaxed,

take good care of it. the women smiled again, and even Granny “And a fine pair they will make, the Fletcher dried her eyes. William Bradford, two black sheep of ill omen,” remarked feeling a tug at his coat, turned about Peter Perkins, who, amid all the bustle of — quickly.

landing, could still find time for a bitter “It is not true that there is naught for

word. us to eat,” Andrew told him in an excited “A goodly place,” said David Kritchell, whisper. “I was digging, just for play, in cheerily, as they stood on the beach, sur- one of those round mounds of earth— veying their new home and waiting for look, there are a dozen of them along the the last of their gear to be landed. The shore. They must have been the savage thin sunshine lay upon the flat, wet shore men’s treasure-houses, for see what I have

and the chill wind seemed to search out found within!” the very marrow of the travelers’ bones. He poured into Bradford’s hand a stream The cries of the gulls circling above them of something red-yellow like gold. It was sounded harsh and lonely. The last of the not mere metal, however, but something boats grated its keel on the gravel and the far more precious, the round, ruddy kernels whole company turned their faces toward of Indian corn.

the hill. Suddenly Granny Fletcher, half The weeks that followed were difficult hysterical, threw up her hands and lifted and full of toil, while there arose slowly

her voice in a long wail. upon the hill the little huts built of logs “We will perish here in this wilderness!” and chinked with mud, and in their midst

she cried. “God meant us to endure our the square common house that was meetpersecutions in patience at home and not ing-house, arsenal, and granary all in one. flee from them to a land where wild beasts Winter drew in, food supplies ran low, and savages will soon make an end of us. and the settlers dipped deeper and deeper What will we eat? Where will we lay our into the Indians’ corn.

heads? Oh, England—England—!” “We will pay the red men for it, as Her cry died away in choking sobs, while soon as we are given opportunity,” the the others looked at one another. The May- elders all agreed; but no one came to claim

flower rode in the tideway, her sails, wet possession, and no Indians showed their from last night’s rain, all spread to dry, faces where the white men could see.

white and shining in the sun. The very “I would it were so that we could make wind that filled them blew full and fresh payment to somebody,” Bradford said toward home. Yet, to the everlasting honor more than once to Andrew, yet could offer of the Pilgrims let it be said, no other face no solution of the problem of how it was betrayed hesitation or fear. Whatever was to be done. None of the men approved of in their hearts, men, women, and children taking what was not theirs; but in the face all took up their burdens and set forth up of such famine, they knew it was folly to

the hill. leave the corn untouched. Andrew did not They found the company gathered in a__ heed their talk greatly, for he was busier circle on that spot where, later, the meet- than the rest, being one of the few who

ing-house was to be. had any skill with a fowling-piece or a “Let us look to God in prayer,” said John —_fish-line. He was more shabby and ragged

THE BLACK SHEEP'S COAT 179 than ever, with clumsy patches of leather “So we are to perish after all,” she was sewed where his coat had given way, and _ saying. “A blight lies heavy upon us. Some with a rude cap made of the skin of a fox. wrong we must have done. Was it because

Many nights, however, when he dropped we took food that was not ours and never asleep on his bed of straw beside William repaid? We thought we were starving, but Bradford’s, he would smile to himself in to die in this way is worse than to starve. the dark, knowing that he was happier God has forgotten us. He has hidden his

than he had ever been before. face from us because of our sins.” And then came the sickness. She turned and saw Andrew standing

One of the elders, Giles Peabody, was by the door. stricken first. He sat shivering by the fire “I said you would bring us ill luck!” she before the common house at evening, he cried. “It was you who broke into the red was burning with fever at midnight, and men’s store-house and laid hands upon before sunrise he was dead. Three more what was not ours.” Her voice rose high, were ill on the day that he was buried, then dropped suddenly almost to a whisand by the next morning there were a_ per. “For all the harm and mischief you dozen. Soon in every family there was have done, I forgive you. I will not go besome one dead, some one dying; while fore the Judgment Seat thinking ill of any fewer and fewer were left to go from man, not even such as you.” She closed her house to house to care for the sufferers. eyes and slipped down limply in the chair, William Bradford labored like ten men, while Drusilla ran to aid her. and taught Andrew to be nearly as useful “Do not heed what she says!” the girl as himself. Drusilla Kritchell, although cried over her shoulder; but the door had she had her mother and Granny Fletcher closed and Andrew was gone. sick in her own house, still managed to Inside the common house on the hill a go forth every day, with all the gravity row of stricken men lay on the straw; but and earnestness of a grown woman, to some were mending and none were dying, nurse and scrub and care for motherless so that William Bradford had leisure to children. She met Andrew at twilight one come forth and sit down by the fire that evening as both, almost too weary to set burned before the door. Silently Andrew one foot before the other, were coming came through the dark and found a seat down the hill from the common house. beside him, first flinging a fresh log upon “My mother is almost well again,” she the blaze. Something stirred outside the told the boy as he took her basket, “and circle of ruddy light; then, as the flames Granny Fletcher is mending, too, although leaped from the fresh fuel, there was reshe is still light-headed with the fever. But vealed an ugly, yellowish dog that sniffed three more of the Peabody children have and skulked among the shadows. Andrew

been taken. I have been with them the whistled to him, but the creature gave a

whole day.” strange, uncouth yelp of fear and ran away Andrew followed Drusilla into the house howling.

to set down her basket on the table, and “That is no dog of ours,” the boy obthere discovered Granny Fletcher huddled served wonderingly; “where could he have

in the big chair by the fireplace, for she come from?” had refused to stay in bed. She was alter- “I think he is the same that we caught nately muttering to herself and babbling sight of in those days when we first

aloud. landed,” Bradford answered. “He was

180 CORNELIA MEIGS with four Indians, the only ones we ever steady tap on the outer door. Andrew

saw.” Newell stood upon the step.

“It is a strange thing that they never “I must ask a boon of you, since there is came near'us again,” Andrew said. no one else to whom I may turn,” he said Bradford did not reply at once, so that abruptly. “Can you prepare me food to the two sat in silence for a little. When carry on a journey? I am going into the the older man did speak at last, his voice forest to find some one whom I may pay sounded broken, weary, and listless. for the grain we have taken.”

“No, not strange,” he remarked slowly. “Into the forest, alone, to find the “The Indians fear us and they know how Indians?” she exclaimed. “Oh, you must to hide in the forest like foxes. Do you not. It is certain death!” ever think that there may be those whose She looked him up and down in the light eyes are always watching us, knowing how __ of her candle and added bluntly: “You are

we are stricken, counting the dead and not even properly clad; your coat is so waiting—waiting until we are so few that worn and thin that you will perish with the

they no longer feel afraid? That dog has cold. The sickness will fall upon you all waxed very bold. It may be that his masters alone in the wilderness.”

are waxing bold also.” “It does not matter,” he responded indif“We have buried the dead by night and _ ferently. “Go I must, and if I do not sucleveled the graves so that no one could ceed, I will never come back. Will you ask count them,” declared Andrew, huskily; your father, Mistress Drusilla, to tend my

“and we are not quite all gone yet.” master when I am gone? He is stricken “No,” said Bradford, “but we are grow- with the dire sickness, too. I will come at ing perilously few.” He was silent again sunrise to fetch anything you can give me

and seemed to go on with difficulty. “I to carry on my way.” would that we had ever been able to offer He closed the door sharply and vanished

payment for that corn we used. I have into the dark. measured all that we were forced to take and have set a sum of money against it to THE sun was just coming up through the be ready if the chance for paying should winter fog, a round red ball like a midever come. Perhaps you had better know summer moon, when Andrew set forth that it lies in a bag in my chest, so that if— next morning, the little bag of money safe

if I should be—” beneath his coat, the scant bundle of

“Master—Master Bradford,” cried An- Drusilla’s provisions under his arm. A drew, in agony. He touched the other’s great, long-legged shadow strutted before hand and found it burning hot, and saw at him, seeming to mock at him and his fanlast, by a sudden flaring of the fire, that tastic errand. To come face to face with Bradford’s face was flushed and his eyes the lurking Indians, to explain that the

glittering with fever. white men had used their corn and wished

“Help me to go inside, boy,” he said. to repay them, surely it was impossible. “I have been trying to rise these last ten Yet Andrew shook his head doggedly and minutes and have not had the strength. repeated almost aloud, “If I do not sucIt is nothing—nothing, but I think I will ceed, I will never come back.” His devotion go within and lie down beside the others.” to William Bradford and the terrible Half an hour later, Drusilla Kritchell thought of what the sickness might have was summoned from the kitchen by an un-__ wrought before his return dragged at his

THE BLACK SHEEP'S COAT 181 heart, but he turned his mind resolutely family that two sisters, one of them her from such thoughts and trudged steadily great-grandmother, had, when their father

on. was called away to the wars, sheared one There was something about his appear- of their sheep, spun and woven the wool, ance that was not quite as usual. Even the and made him a coat all between sunset grotesque shadow ahead of him showed it, and sunrise. Drusilla’s spinning-wheel and in that absence of fluttering rags and gap- loom had come with her across the sea and ing elbows that had formerly marked his stood in the corner of the room where she attire. He had a new coat, a warm sub- and her sister slept. There they had both stantial one, that bade defiance to all the toiled all night, as quickly and skilfully

chill morning winds that could blow. as had that great-grandmother of earlier Granny Fletcher, when she saw him in fame. the doorway receiving his bundle of food “It is a strange color for a coat, but we from Drusilla, had noticed that something had no time to dye it,” Drusilla apologized, was changed. Her fever had abated a little, when she gave it to Andrew and bade him

nor had it ever been great enough to _ put it on. He, in turn, was quite overcome

quench her curiosity. with surprise and gratitude and could “See the lad with a whole coat to his hardly form a word of stammering thanks. back at last!” she exclaimed. “And what A light snow had fallen during the night, a strange color it is—rusty black! Verily, showing, as he came into the forest, the it might be the coat of your black sheep.” lace-like pattern of squirrel- and rabbitDrusilla flushed, said farewell hastily, tracks, and even the deep footprints here

and closed the door. and there of larger game. Andrew scanned “You should not talk; it will bring the the ground eagerly for the marks of mocshaking fits upon you again,” she said casined feet, yet knew that there was little sternly as she adjusted the pillow in the chance of any Indian leaving a trail so

big chair. plain. For want of any real direction in “You need not have been so quick in which to go, he followed a little stream in closing the door,’ complained the old whose lower waters he had been used to woman; “I have no doubt that it was in fish for trout and whose babbling voice ho proper way that the boy came by that seemed to speak to him with cheery friendcoat. Mercy, child, how heavy-eyed you _ liness as it led him farther and farther into look this morning! One would think you unknown country.

had not slept. But that coat, I wonder He ate frugally in the middle of the day,

now—” then tramped steadily on until dark. It was Drusilla betook herself to another room, growing very cold when he stopped at last,

not waiting to hear more. The secret of built himself a rough shelter of boughs Andrew’s new coat was no mystery to her, under an overhanging rock, struck a fire

nor to her younger sister, sleeping pro- with his flint and steel, and kindled a foundly upstairs after a night of intense cheerful blaze. But how small the fire industry. There was another who shared looked in the wide, silent emptiness of the the secret also, a half-grown sheep, bedded forest! The rock threw back the heat of tenderly in the straw of the shed, shivering the flame, making a warm nook where he and indignant at being robbed of its fleece curled up and slept comfortably until

in the dead of winter. morning. Once or twice in the night he got

There had long been a story in Drusilla’s up to replenish the fire and to listen to the

182 CORNELIA MEIGS unfamiliar night sounds of the wood, but forth into the light, and then shrank back he was, each time, too weary to keep long again with a gasp of overwhelming as-

awake. tonishment. For there, standing beside the When he arose next morning it was glowing coals, motionless as a statue, silent

colder than ever; his breath went up like as the still forest itself, was a gigantic smoke in the keen air, and the little brook Indian. was frozen solid, its friendly voice silent For a moment there was no move made,

at last. no word spoken, as Andrew crouched This second day’s journey into the staring at the stranger, at the hawk-like wilderness seemed to have brought him face, at the firelight shining on the dull into a new land. The hills were higher; red of his naked arms and knees, at his the great boulders towered above his head; misshapen shadow that danced on the snow

the way was so broken that he had much behind him. Then at last the other, withdifficulty in making progress at all. He out moving his head or changing his exstill clung to the familiar stream as a guide, pression, spoke quietly.

although it had shrunk now to a tiny “You welcome—here,” he said in slow, thread, just a gleam of ice here and there broken English.

under the slippery stones and snow- Later, Andrew was to learn that many of wreathed underbrush. Night found him the red men had learned English from the weary and spent and utterly disheartened. British sailors that manned the fishingIn all this long journey he had not yet seen boats coasting along the New England

a sign of any human being. shore, and that this man had even made With the greatest difficulty, he cut a voyage with one of them. At that mo-

enough boughs for a rude tent, and got to- ment, however, it seemed to the boy nothgether a supply of firewood sufficient for ing other than a miracle that here, in this the night. The fuel was wet, his fingers far, silent wilderness, he should hear his were stiff with cold, so that it was a long own tongue spoken.

time before he could strike a spark and The Indian drew out, from somewhere persuade the uncertain flame to creep along in the folds of his scanty garments, a slice the leaves and set fire to the wood. Since of dried meat and set it to broil before the

he had not delayed his journey to hunt or fire. Andrew sniffed wistfully at the defish by the way, his food was almost gone. _licious odor of its cooking, but when the His strength was almost gone also, as he red man silently offered it to him, he shook

realized when he got up from beside the his head, so firm was his determination fire and crawled into his shelter. He would that no Indian should know how near the

not be able to journey much farther, yet white men were to starvation. The man it was his steady purpose still to go for- merely nodded quietly at his refusal, ward. Almost in the act of nestling down brought out more meat and some dried among the pine branches, he fell asleep. fish, and put the whole before the fire. He A troubled dream aroused him many _ looked so long and steadily at the boy that hours later. Vaguely he was conscious that Andrew felt no detail of thin cheeks and

he must get up and mend the fire or it hollow eyes was escaping that keen stare. would die out and leave him to freeze. It Then the piercing glance moved onward took him some minutes tosummon enough to where the remains of Drusilla’s proresolution, but at last, with a great effort, visions lay upon the ground, a few broken he stirred, crawled out of his refuge, came crusts of bread and a bit of cheese. The

THE BLACK SHEEP'S COAT 183 stranger made no comment, but very care- silver and copper coins, with a few of gold.

fully completed his cooking, spread the The man turned them over with little feast upon a piece of bark and pushed it interest, letting some of them drop and toward Andrew. With one lean red hand disappear in the snow and the ashes. His he made a gesture in the direction of the eyes brightened, however, when he saw

settlement. among them a big copper penny-piece that “All hungry—starving; we know. Dying was new enough to shine a little still and

—we know that too,” he said. to wink in the firelight with a pleasant

“You—you have seen,” faltered Andrew, glow. Andrew, seeing what attracted him,

thrown out of his reserve by this sudden gathered up such of the fallen coin as he

statement. could find and polished them on the rough

“You bury dead by night,” the man sleeve of his coat. Then he fetched a handnodded slowly; “you smooth graves, we ful of sand from the tiny bank that he had count graves—morning.” He thrust the noticed beside the stream and scoured the food forward again and said peremptorily. money until the silver gleamed and the

“Eat.” copper glowed and burned in the red light

And eat Andrew did, since there was of the flame. The gold did not reflect the no use for further pretense. There was a fire and was only dulled by the scraping little talk between them as his strange with sand so that, in the end, the Indian visitor plied him with food, but it was not cast it aside as he received the rest of the until the ravenous meal was ended and money eagerly. the boy had pushed away his bark plate “He shall have it all, that Tisquantum that he made any attempt to speak of the —he is last of tribe, and maybe some day errand for which he had come sucha long I bring him to you and he show you how

and weary way. to plant the corn for nex’ year. You would “There was some corn left buried near not harm him.”

the shore where we landed,” he began. “T will swear it,’ Andrew answered. “We used it and we wish to make pay- “Does he really fear the white men?” ment. See, I have here the proper sum “All of us fear you. Surely you mus’

of money.” know it.” He brought out from under his coat “We have some brave men amongst us,”

William Bradford’s bag of coins. Andrew said, “and a soldier who is a famBut the Indian shook his head. ous fighter to be our leader.”

“The corn not mine,” he said. “Ugh, you mean round small man in red “Then to whom did it belong? Where coat who go tramping through forest,

are the men who left it there?” musket on shoulder, breaking through the “All dead,” the other answered. “The bushes and making much noise as giant great sickness—it took them all away. Only moose. We could slay him many times

one left. He live with our tribe.” with arrows; he mus’ have known it, yet “Then take the money to him,” begged he not afraid. No, it is not this man, nor all Andrew. “We counted carefully and wish your fighting men we fear.” to pay for every measure. Look, it is all “What is it, then?” Andrew asked, much

here; will you take him what should be puzzled.

his?” Half by signs, half in his imperfect He poured the contents of the bag into English, the Indian sought to explain. And the Indian’s unresponsive hand, a heap of so vivid were his gestures, so potent his

184 CORNELIA MEIGS tew words, that finally Andrew began to quickly asleep. He awoke, much later, with

understand. a start, to find himself alone, with the

It was the strange spirit of the English newly replenished fire crackling beside that the Indians did not comprehend. him, with a package of deer’s meat and When the red men were hungry, when corn laid close to his hand, and with the sickness came upon them, even when they dawn breaking behind the dark pines. were weary of the spot where they dwelt, He made his way homeward more easily they gathered up their goods and moved than he had come, for he knew the country to some new camping-place. When the now and could follow the stream without plague first fell upon the tribe that dwelt so much picking and choosing of the way. where the white men did now, they broke Although he was free from one anxiety, and scattered, carrying the same death to there was still a heavy burden upon his

all who were near. Their people died in heart, for he could not put from him the numbers past any counting; yet even now remembrance of William Bradford,—the . they were many more than the newcomers. man who had his whole-souled devotion,

But with the white man it was not the —of how he had sat shivering by the fire same. The men had died, and the women, with the shadow of the dreadful sickness but they did not run away. They went on already upon him. He hurried faster and with their daily tasks, although they were faster, feeling that the dense wood hemmed fewer and fewer. The Indians thought that him in and held him back—that he would the courage of those who were gone must _ never reach his journey’s end and hear tidpass into the hearts of those who still lived, ings of his master.

and even though so many should perish He was free of the forest at last and that there was but one left, they would hastening across the stump-dotted slope to still fear him, since he would have the the huddle of cabins beside the stream.

strength of all. How few they looked! He had almost forVery slowly Andrew turned this strange gotten what a tiny handful of dwellings

idea over and over in his mind. the settlement was. He was panting as he “And we wonder at you, in our turn,” ran down the worn path, dashed through the boy replied at last; “how you can find the empty street, and thundered at the food and live in plenty in what seems to door of the common house. It was growing

us a cruel and barren wilderness. If we dark; there was no light within nor any could learn to be friends, white men and voice to answer his impatient knock. red men, how we could help each other in Trembling, hesitating in dread of what he

many things!” might find, he opened the door and stepped

So they made their compact of peace and over the threshold. Five men had lain on friendliness there by the fire in the heart the straw the night of his departure; there

of the frozen wilderness, with the blue was only one now. At the sound of his wood-smoke drifting above their heads and _ footstep, this one stirred as though roused

floating away over the tree-tops. After- from sleep, turned his head and spoke. It

ward, when the Indian said that they was William Bradford. should sleep for a little to prepare for their “Four days you were gone,” Bradford next day’s journey, they lay down side by _ said at last, after he had heard the hurried side in the warm glow of the blaze; and substance of Andrew’s adventures. “Much since Andrew had traveled far, had eaten can happen in such a place as this in four

fully, and was quite worn out, he fell days. Enoch Fullerton and old Phineas

THE BLACK SHEEP’S COAT 185 Hall have gone from us, but the others back. He has made good our debt to the who were suffering here have got well and Indians and has brought back good tidings gone about their business. And as for me, and such an understanding of the red men

four days were enough for the coming as we could never have gained for our-

of the fever and its burning out, so that I selves. After this service he shall no longer shall soon be a whole man again. Now tell be my bound servant, but a citizen of this me that strange tale all over again; I must community. Andrew Newell, whom we have not heard aright, for surely what you were calling a foolhardy boy, has shown

say is past belief.” himself to be a man.”

Andrew went over his story, repeating Thereafter it was necessary for Andrew every word of his talk in the forest with to sit down upon the straw again and tell

the Indian. the whole story once more, that John “They know more about us than we Carver and the elders might marvel anew dreamed possible,” he said, “but we need at his tale. It was not until an hour later no longer fear them. And they think, poor that he was suffered at last to pass out of blind savages, that, as we grow fewer, the the building and go down the little street spirit of those who have passed still dwells to carry his news and his thanks to Drusilla

in those who remain.” Kritchell. The air was soft after the long There was a little pause, for Bradford, days of cold; there was promise in it that like Andrew, must consider this new idea this harsh country’s climate held spring

carefully. as well as winter.

“Not so blind,” he said finally; “savages Granny Fletcher, who was well enough

and heathen, yet not so blind. Do you now to limp out to the doorstep, was sitnever think that the spirit of this adventure _ ting on the wide stone, wrapped in Drusillies not in the elders, the older men like — 1a’s cloak, while Peter Perkins, coming up me, but in the young men, the youths and the path, had just stopped to speak to her. children—in you? We shall soon be gone, Tidings of what Andrew had done seemed

for age passes quickly; it is youth that to have run before him, for Peter Perkins must take up our purpose; it is on youth took off his broad hat and greeted him that the weight of it all depends. Even this with a “Good even to you, sir.”

errand of yours, without youth it would “What is that?” Andrew heard in a never have been accomplished; we should shrill whisper from the old woman, who have gone on wasting our days in doubt had evidently not yet learned the news; and dread, fearing to turn our hands to “do you call that wicked lad ‘sir,’ and take the real conquering of the wilderness.” off your hat to him?”

The door opened in the twilight and “We may have been mistaken in him several men came in, John Carver andthree after all,” Peter Perkins returned, in a of the elders. Bradford raised his voice whisper just as audible; “and it is as well

that they might hear. to show respect to one who is now a citizen

“This lad has succeeded in that mad- of our colony and who wears a good coat cap expedition from which we have all upon his back. It is little one can tell of been saying that he would never come what the future holds!”

BILLY MAYES’ GREAT DISCOVERY by Ralph Henry Barbour

APTAIN Ezra Brake, seated on the tain declined to commit himself; which, ( edge of the deck-house of the little under the circumstances, Billy considered schooner Molly and Kate, was try- quite proper, since it seemed that the naing to do two things at once. He was __ tives of Pirate Key were a peculiarly sensisuperintending the unloading of ballast by tive people and’ much averse to publicity. a crew of four men and a boy, and he was Even the captain, with his winning personanswering the questions of Billy Mayes, ality, had had much difhculty in making who sat beside him. Billy was twelve and friends with the inhabitants. The first time Captain Ezra was almost five times twelve, he had tried to land, many years ago, he and

but they were great cronies. The Molly his crew had been fired on with poisoned and Kate had tied up to Forster’s Wharf arrows. Captain Ezra could still point out only last evening, and already this Satur- the scars on the old blue dory astern there. day morning Billy was on hand to hear The captain, with one mild grey eye on what wonderful adventures had befallen the crew, had just finished a soul-stirring his friend on the latest voyage. The Molly account of the hurricane that had met them and Kate carried lumber to fascinating off the South Carolina coast on their northsouthern ports like Charleston and Savan- ward trip, and Billy was still glowing with

nah and Jacksonville and even, less fre- pride at the thought of knowing so in- | quently, Havana, and never a voyage but timately a person of such nautical skill what Captain Ezra returned with a new and personal bravery,—for, although the budget of marvelous tales for Billy’s de- captain had n’t said so in so many words, light. Some day Billy was going to sail it was very plain that only heroism and with the captain and see the astounding remarkable seamanship had brought the places and things with his own two very Molly and Kate safely through great peril, blue eyes—see Charleston and Cape Hat- —when “Long Joe” Bowen, shoveling bal-

teras and the Sea Islands and Florida. But last sand near by, was conquered by a more especially he would visit Pirate Key, perfectly terrible spasm of coughing. Cap-

for it was on Pirate Key that the captain tain Ezra viewed him silently for a momet with his very startlingest adventures. ment and then inquired mildly: Billy had never been able to find Pirate “Been an’ swallered some o’ that sand, Key on any map, but as the captain ex- Joe?” plained, it was n’t very big and few mar- “Long Joe,” nodded and said, “Yes, sir,” iners even knew of its existence. Some- ina very husky voice. where between the Marquesas and the dry “M—m-—-; well, you want to be more Tortugas it lay, and beyond that the cap- careful,” advised the captain, most sym186

BILLY MAYES GREAT DISCOVERY 187 pathetically; “’cause if you ain't, I ‘m like- him a couple o’ doses of kerosene oil an’ ly to have to swab out your throat for you, it did him a power o’ good.”

Joe.” doubtfully.

an’ that ’s a remarkably painful operation, “The—the physician?” asked Billy, There was no response to this, but Billy “No, the prince, 0’ course. There was n't could see “Long Joe’s” shoulders heaving nothing the matter with the physician.” and knew that he must already be in much The captain sounded slightly vexed. “He d pain. Billy, like his friend the captain, had been an’ ate some—some—what ’s this a very sympathetic nature. When the suf- now?—some hoki-moki fruit.” He viewed ferer appeared to be easier Billy looked Billy sternly. “The prince had.” up again at the captain’s seamed and ruddy “Really?” asked Billy. “What is hoki-

countenance and asked: moki fruit?”

“Did you get to Pirate Key this time, “Well,” replied the narrator, knocking

sir?” the ashes from his pipe and thoughtfully “Pirate Key?” responded the captain. scraping the bowl with his knife, “it 's “Oh, yes, we was there a couple o’ days. sort o’ like a orange an’ sort o’ like a Not on business; but, you see, I ’d prom- apple.” ised the king I ’d drop in on him the next “Oh!”

time I was down around there. Seein’ as “An’ it ’s pizen if you eat it afore it ’s he leads a kind o’ lonely life, an’ him an’ ripe. Don’t never touch a hoki-moki fruit me bein’ particular friends, as you might till it ’s purple, Billy.”

say, I didn’t have the heart to say no to Billy promised instantly. “Only,” he

him.” added, “I might not know it, Captain “Was he quite well?” asked Billy, po- Ezra, if I was to go to Pirate Key. Is it litely. round? Does it grow on trees?” “Pretty smart for an old feller. You see, “More square than round, you might Billy, he ’s—let me see—why, he must be say. It grows in clusters as big as that

well over a hundred now.” water-cask there. Hundreds of ’em to“A hundred!” gasped the boy. gether. An’ they grow high, because, if The captain nodded gravely. “Them they did n’t, the wild horses would eat ’em Pirate Key folks lives a long time. They when they was green an’ die. That ’s one don’t go to school until they ’re twenty. 0’ the wonders o’ nature, Billy.”

If they did, you see, they ’d forget all “Yes, sir. But I did n’t know horses ate they ’d learned afore they was what you = fruit.”

might call middle-aged.” “Ain’t you ever see a horse eat a apple? Billy pondered that. Not going to school Why, they ’re plumb fond o’ apples. Bauntil one was twenty had much to be said nanas, too—an’ watermelons. Guess the in its favor. Still, it was revolutionary, and only kind o’ fruit a horse won’t eat is he decided to put it aside for further con- cocoanuts.” The captain filled his pipe

sideration. leisurely and in silence. Then: “Another “And how was the queen and the peculiar thing, Billy, is what you might prince?” he asked interestedly. call the—the affinity o’ the hoki-moki tree

“Well, the queen was fine; but the prince an’ them wild horses. They can’t keep had been an’ ate something as did n't away from ’em, the horses can’t. There ’s agree with him. The royal physician was something about the—the tree itself that real worried when I got there; but I give draws the horses; something in the wood,

188 RALPH HENRY BARBOUR they say. You don’t never find any bark it? Talkin’ always gives me a powerful on a hoki-moki tree low down, because appetite. Sing out to Steve to start that the wild horses keeps rubbin’ themselves galley fire an’ get a hustle on him!” against it. Seems like they just can’t resist

the—the sub-tile influence. It ’s extraor- Brtry’s thought dwelt a good deal for the

dinary.” rest of that day on Captain Ezra’s interestBilly agreed emphatically that it was. ing discourse, and when he went to sleep,

“Are there many wild horses on the key?” it was to dream terribly complicated things

he inquired after a moment. about wild horses and hoki-moki trees and “Thousands. The natives catch ’em an’ the fascinating inhabitants of Pirate Key, train ‘em. The king has more ’n three who wore the scantiest attires, but indulged hundred horses in his private stable, an’ themselves in traveling-bags! Sunday was the queen, she has about a hundred, an’ always a hard day to live through, for the prince, he ’s got maybe thirty or forty.” after church and Sunday-school were over

The captain applied a lighted match to. many empty hours stretched ahead. This his pipe and puffed blue smoke clouds Sunday, however, was not so bad, for Mr. into the spring sunlight. “They kill ’em Humbleton came to call in the afternoon for their hides, too,” he went on. “They and brought Arthur with him. Arthur was

make fine leather.” fourteen and a youth of affairs and _posi“T should n’t think they ’d need leather,” tion in the community, as became the son

said Billy, “being just savages.” ~ of a bank treasurer. For one thing, Arthur “Savages!” The captain viewed him re- was captain of the Broadport Junior Base-

provingly. “Don’t you ever let em hear ball Team. Billy and Arthur were grayou say that, son! Benighted, in a manner ciously allowed to retire from the society o’ speakin’, they may be, but they ain’t of their elders to the sanctuary of the little savages. As for leather, why, they make side porch, where the chill of an easterly saddles an’ harnesses an’ travelin’-bags—” April breeze failed to penetrate. Billy was

“Traveling-bags!” glad of the opportunity to talk to Arthur,

“_-An’ trunks.” The captain paid no for he had a request to make, and after heed to the interruption. “An’ here ’s an- several false starts he managed to make it. other peculiar thing. You may be able to “I wish,” he said, after swallowing hard

explain it, but I can’t, an’ I never heard a couple of times, “I wish you ’d let me any one who could. Them hoki-moki trees play on the nine this year, Arthur.” has just as much affinity for a horse-hide Arthur Humbleton observed him frown-

as they has for the horse himself. Lay a ingly. Then he shook his head. “I don’t horse-hide saddle twenty feet away from — see how I could, Billy,” he answered. “The

a hoki-moki tree, an’ just as soon as you team’s all made up, in the first place, and lets go of it it “Il begin to move right over then you are n’t much of a player. Maybe to the tree and try to rub itself against it) mext year—”

Now you explain that!” “I can play in the out-field all right,” “But I can’t,” said Billy, wide-eyed. “It defended Billy, eagerly.

—it ’s most—most extro’n’ry!” “Oh, most any fellow can catch a fly,” “It surely is!” declared the captain. replied the other carelessly. “There ’s more “What you might call one o’ the marvels to baseball than just that, Billy. You ’ve o’ science. I ain’t never— That the lot, Joe? got to know how to run the bases, and bat,

Well, I guess it ’s most dinner time, ain’t and lots of things.”

BILLY MAYES’ GREAT DISCOVERY 189 “I can run bases just as fast as—” Billy and coveted, and mentally compared the paused. He had been going to say, “as you prices set down against the articles with can”; but diplomacy came to his aid. “As the contents of the little box in his top fast as Tom Wallace can,” he substituted. bureau-drawer that was his bank. The com“Maybe, but you can’t bat a little bit,” parison was n’t encouraging. Billy sighed. responded Arthur, triumphantly. “You And just then his eyes fell on a word that

know you can't.” challenged attention. “Westcott’s Junior “If I had more practise—” League Ball,” he read. “Regulation size

“No, sir; you could n’t ever be a real, and weight, rubber center, all-wool yarn, corking batter.” Arthur was kindly but double cover of best quality selected horsefirm. “A fellow has to have the batting Aide. Warranted to last a full game without eye. Of course, I don’t say that maybe, if losing elasticity or shape.”

you worked awfully hard this year and Billy read it twice. Then he became practised every day, you might n’t be a lot thoughtful. After that he read the descripbetter; but I don’t believe you ‘ll ever be ation again, and his eyes became big and

real star, Billy.” round, Later, in bed, with the light from The subject, engrossing to both boys, the electric lamp at the corner illumining

continued for some time, and in the end _ the ceiling, he lay sleepless for a long hour, it was agreed that Billy should become a_ experiencing the triumph that thrills all sort of unofficial out-field substitute, with great discoverers and inventors.

the privilege of practising with the nine The next morning he surprised every sometimes and making himself useful member of the household by being downchasing the long flies that infrequently stairs in advance of breakfast and with his went over Mr. Bannerman’s garden fence. shoes tied! His mother viewed him anAs Mr. Bannerman was aged and crabbed _xiously and felt his face, but was unable and disliked having small boys wallow to detect anything abnormal save, perhaps, across his asparagus-bed in search of base- a certain intensity of gaze and impatience balls, the position assigned to Billy prom- of delay. There was a full half-hour beised as much danger as honor. But he tween breakfast and school, and Billy made knew himself to be fast on his feet and the most of it. Captain Ezra was smoking knew Mr. Bannerman to be slow, and he his pipe on the wharf when Billy arrived, accepted gratefully. Soon after that, Arthur breathless, on the scene.

was summoned hurriedly by his father, so “Well, well!” exclaimed the captain. hurriedly that he left behind him an en- “Ain’t you round kind o’ early?” ticing blue paper-bound pamphlet entitled, But there was scant time for amenities, “How to Play Baseball,” which Billy hap- and Billy plunged directly into business. pened on just before supper and which he “Are you going down South again, pretty

surreptitiously studied later behind the soon, sir?” he inquired anxiously. The shielding pages of “Travels in the Holy captain allowed that he was; as soon, in

Land.” fact, as the new cargo was aboard, which, But he found it difficult to understand, if he was n’t saddled with the laziest crew until he happened on a dozen pages at on record, ought to be in about four days. the end of the booklet devoted to adver- “And are you going to Pirate Key?” Billy tisements. There were soul-stirring pic- continued. The captain blinked. tures and descriptions of mitts and gloves, “Well, I might,” he replied, after slight

bats and masks and balls. He admired hesitation. “Why?”

I9g0 RALPH HENRY BARBOUR “Because I want you to bring mea piece Bats have to be made awf'ly particular, of that hoki-moki wood, sir, a piece big Captain Ezra, or else they are n’t much

enough to make a bat. You see—” good.” “A bat? What sort of a bat?” “Don’t you worry about that, son. They “Why, a baseball bat. Could you, do you have been makin’ their own bats on Pirate

think? It would have to be that long—” Key for years, an’ I guess there ain’t no Billy stretched his arms—‘“and that big better ones to be had.” around,—” Billy formed a circle with his “Why, do they play baseball there?” small fingers,—“and it ought n’t to have gasped the boy. any knots in it. Is hoki-moki very knotty, “’Course they do! Leastways, they play

Captain Ezra?” what ’s pretty near like it. The—the general

“Knotty? N-no, I would n’t call it that. idea ’s similar. They ’re plumb crazy about I—” He coughed and cast a troubled gaze _ it, too. They got a eight-club league down

toward the lighthouse point. “What was there—”

it you wanted it for, now?” But at that moment the bell in the town“A baseball bat,” answered Billy, almost hall clanged its first stroke, and Billy fled.

impatiently. “I thought if you could get During the four days that the Molly and me a piece big enough, I could get Jerry Kate remained at Forster’s Wharf Billy Williams, over at Morris’s carpenter shop, and the captain met twice; and when the to make it for me. Could you? Would it— schooner finally sailed, the captain had would it be much trouble to you, sir?” full, detailed, and most explicit instruc“Why, n-no, only—hm—you see J ain’t tions regarding that length of straight, plumb sure of gettin’ to Pirate Key this well-seasoned hoki-moki wood that was trip, Billy.” Billy’s face fell, and Captain to be brought back either in the rough or Ezra went on quickly. “But I ain’t sayin’ shaped into the Pirate Key idea of a baseI won’t, you know. Fact is, it ’s more ’n _ ball bat. After that there was nothing for

likely I will. An’ if I do—” Billy to do save await the return of the “Oh, will you, please?” cried Billy, schooner. beaming. “How much would it cost, sir?

I ’ve only got twenty-two cents, but if Aprit gave place to May, and the Broadyou ’d take that, I ’d pay you the rest port Juniors began to play Saturday afterwhen you came back.” He dug into a noon games on the back common and to pocket, but the Captain waved the sug- practise diligently on other days after

gestion aside. school was over. Billy served a rigorous “Shucks!” he said; “a little piece o’ wood apprenticeship in the out-field, chasing flies

ain’t goin’ to cost nothin’. Why, I guess that went over the heads of the regular I could bring off a whole tree, if I wanted _ players and several times scrambling over it. I guess there ain’t anything on that there Mr. Bannerman’s fence and recovering the island I could n’t have for the askin’, Billy, ball from under the rhubarb or from bethe king an’ me bein’ so friendly. Tell you tween the rows of early peas. So far, for-

what I ‘Il do, now. I ’Il get ’em to cut a tune had attended him and he had escaped

piece o’ that wood an’ make the bat for with his life. Now and then he was al-

you right there. How ’Il that ber” lowed to take his turn with the batters Billy looked dubious. “Why, that ’s aw- and stand up at the plate while Waldo fully kind, sir, but—but do you think Hutchins pitched his famous “slow ones.” they ’d know how to make a baseball bat? Practise is supposed to make perfect, but

BILLY MAYES GREAT DISCOVERY IQl Billy was still a long way from perfection other bat, except that the inscription “Genas a batsman. Nor could either he or Ar- oine Hoki-Moki Wood” appeared half-way ‘hur Humbleton observe any great amount along its smooth length. The words were of improvement. But Billy persisted, con- printed in uneven characters, and evidently

soling himself with rosy dreams of the with pen and ink, and the ink had run future. Almost any day, now, the Molly with the grain of the wood. The varnish and Kate might return, bearing Billy’s was still new and just a bit sticky; but

Great Discovery. that was to be expected, since varnish alMeanwhile, the Juniors won from Scal- ways dried slowly near salt water. HokiGeld Grammar School, were defeated by moki wood was, contrary to Billy’s prethe West Side Reds, and were annihilated conceived idea, light instead of dark, closely

by the Downerport Eagles. And then, as it resembing ash. A surprising feature was seemed to Billy, just in the nick of time the twine-wound handle. It seemed strange to prevent a similar fate at the hands of that the natives of Pirate Key should know that especial rival, the Broadport White of that refinement. His respect for them Sox, the Molly and Kate tied up again at grew tremendously then and there!

Forster’s Wharf! Having examined the bat to his heart’s That was an eventful day in Billy’s life content, he stood up and swung it ex-

—eventful from the moment he heard the _ perimentally. It proved the least bit heavier

glad news to the moment that he was back than he could have wished, but that was at the house with the precious hoki-moki _n’t anything to trouble about. He had frebat in his possession. He had scarcely quently heard Jack Cantrell express a prefheard Captain Ezra’s detailed and interest- erence for a heavy bat, and Jack was the ing account of the securing of the article. hard hitter of the Broadport Juniors. ReFor once, anxious to put the bat to the test, mained now the supreme test, and Billy Billy thought the captain just the least approached it falteringly. Suppose it failed!

bit long-winded! But he banished the Suppose Captain Ezra’s tales of the pethought almost instantly, blushing for its culiar properties of hoki-moki wood proved ungraciousness, and quite overwhelmed his false! Billy feared that the disappointment benefactor with thanks ere he hurried away would be more than he could bear! Nervwith the bat tightly clutched and one jack- ing himself to the ordeal, he laid the bat

et-pocket bulging with a perfectly good at the edge of the porch, squeezed the “genuine horse-hide” ball that had seen horse-hide ball from his pocket, and deonly two weeks’ service in practise and _ posited it with trembling fingers against had been acquired from Captain Humble- the house. Seven feet separated ball and

ton for fifteen cents. bat, and as he withdrew his fingers he Subsiding, much out of breath, on the gave a deep, anxious sigh. For an instant edge of the side porch, Billy once more it seemed that the experiment was to fail, examined his prize with eager eyes. As to and Billy’s heart sank sickeningly. But shape it looked as fine as the best “wagon then, as he stepped back across the boards tongue” ever made. There was no doubt to the porch’s edge, the miracle happened! about it, those Pirate Key natives knew Slowly, irresolutely, the ball moved, rolled how to make a baseball bat! Billy was just a few inches, stopped, went on, gathered a trifle disappointed about one thing, how- momentum, and traveled straight along a ever, and that was its lack of novelty. To board until it bumped companionably all appearance the bat was quite like any against the hoki-moki bat!

192 RALPH HENRY BARBOUR Billy shrieked his triumph, and danced of breaking glass. Thereupon, Billy reecstatically on the mignonette bed. It was covered the ball and went innocently in true! The Great Discovery was proved! to supper. Again he tried the experiment, and again That night, for fear of burglary, Billy the ball yielded to the magic influence of slept with the hoki-moki bat under the the bat as the needle of a compass yields covers beside him.

to the influence of the north pole. Thrice The next day was Saturday and the the experiment worked perfectly. A fourth day of the White Sox game. Billy spent time the ball, having been placed farther most of the morning knocking the ball to the left, collided with the handle of against the backyard fence, and only dethe bat, jumped it, and rolled over the sisted when Aunt Julia informed him from edge of the porch into the flower-bed. Billy an upstairs window that she had a head-

waited for it to rise up and come back ache and would go crazy if he did n't again, but that effort appeared beyond it. stop making all that noise. Billy stopped Considering that a distance of eighteen and went and sat on the side porch, with inches intervened between porch floor and his feet in the mignonette and the hokiHower-bed, Billy felt that it would be ask- moki bat hugged to his triumphant breast,

ing too much of the ball. Anyway, it and dreamed dreams worthy of Cesar or atoned, a minute later, by rolling nicely Napoleon. from house wall to bat with what seemed The Broadport Juniors wanted to win greater alacrity. Billy was more than satis- to-day’s game more than they wanted to

fed. win any other contest in a long and com-

I feel that I ought to inform the reader prehensive schedule. The White Sox team of a fact that quite escaped Billy, which was comprised of boys who lived on the

is that the outer edge of the side porch Hill. The Hill was the town’s patrician was fully an inch and a half lower than quarter. Just about every one who lived the inner, being so built that water would up there had an automobile and a chaufrun off it. I doubt if Billy ever knew of feur to drive it and wore his good clothes this. Certainly, the slope was not percepti- all the time. The juvenile residents of that ble to an unsuspicious vision. I make no favored locality were, in the estimate of claim that the slope had anything to do the down-town boys, stuck-up and snobwith the remarkable behavior of the ball. bish, and had a fine opinion of their baseI am willing to believe that the ball would _ ball prowess. The worst of it was that their

have rolled across to the bat had the floor opinion was justified, for the White Sox been perfectly level. I only mention the —the down-towners jeeringly called them

fact in the interest of truth. the Silk Sox—beat almost every team they Later, Billy sought the back yard and went up against! Last year the Juniors tried throwing the ball in the air and hit- had played two contests with them and ting it with the bat. At first this experie had been beaten decisively each time. And ment proved less successful than the other, so Captain Arthur Humbleton and all the but presently he found, to his great delight, other boys of the Juniors and all their that he could hit almost every time! To be adherents—including mothers and brothers sure, he did n’t always hit just square, and sisters and an occasional father—were but he Az! That absorbing occupation especially keen on a victory. And when, in

came to an end when the ball went the first of the sixth inning, the White through a cellar window with a fine sound Sox finally solved Waldo’s delivery and

BILLY MAYES GREAT DISCOVERY 193 made three hits, and, aided by an in-field dent that the captain’s intentions were of error, sent four runs over the plate, the _ the best. Juniors’ bright dream faded and despon- The last of the sixth developed no runs dency gloomed the countenance of Captain for the Juniors, nor did the seventh add Humbleton. The White Sox had already _ to the score of either side. In the eighth the held a one-run lead, the score at the start White Sox captain got to third with two of the sixth having been 12 to 11, and now, down and tried to tally on a bunt past the with four more tallies added, they looked _ pitcher’s box. But short-stop ran in, scooped

to have the contest safely on ice. up the ball, and nailed him a foot from Billy, his precious bat held firmly be- the plate. The Juniors started their inning tween his knees, occupied a seat on the by a safe rap that placed Cantrell on first substitute’s bench, a yellow-grained settee base. Myers sacrificed neatly, and then the borrowed from the High School across the next man connected for a screeching liner common. He had twice offered his services that was too hot for the Sox second base-

to Arthur, and they had been twice re- man, and Cantrell scored the Juniors’ fused, the second time with a scowl. Billy twelfth tally. But the score was still four was absolutely certain that he could, if al- runs to the advantage of the White Sox lowed to face the opposing pitcher, who when Stone hit into a double and ended

had n’t much but a fast ball to boast of, the inning. anyway, deliver wallops that would rad- Captain Humbleton pretended a confiically alter the history of the game. But dence he did n’t feel, and assured the team the hoki-moki bat was no better than any _ that all they had to do now was hold the little old sixty-cent stick so long as he was Sox and then bat out a victory. It sounded not allowed to use it. To his credit is the easy, but Billy felt defeat impending. He

fact that he had determined, in case the tried to get a word with Arthur before White Sox held the lead at the beginning that youth hurried off to his in-field posiof the ninth inning, to entrust the bat to tion, but failed. The White Sox started by others, should Arthur still refuse his serv- putting a runner on first in consequence

ices. That was real self-denial, real pa- of Waldo Hutchins’s inability to pitch triotism. As much as Billy wanted to wield — strikes. Then a bunt was mishandled by the wonderful hoki-moki bat himself, vic- the catcher, and there were runners on first

tory for the team stood first. and second, and things looked very bad. The friends of the Juniors clapped and The next player was thrown out, but the cheered as “Wink” Billings went to bat in others moved up. The in-field crept closer.

the last of the sixth, and the one who ‘The White Sox left-fielder tried hard to cheered the loudest was Captain Ezra slug, missed two, and finally popped up Blake. The captain had come at Billy’s a silly little foul that dropped comfortably earnest and repeated behest, and had _ in the catcher’s mitt, and the Junior nine’s togged himself out wonderfully in honor adherents cheered loudly, Captain Ezra’s of the occasion. The captain did not, Billy voice dominating all like a fog siren. There suspected now, know a great deal about was another period of doubt and anxiety baseball, for he cheered just as loudly when when, after knocking the ball everywhere a villainous White Sox rapped out a two- save between the foul-lines, the Sox first bagger as he did when one of the Juniors baseman finally whaled out a long, archstole home from third. But it was very evi- ing fly. The bases emptied and the run-

194. RALPH HENRY BARBOUR ners scuttled home, but Leo Smith arose paused in their exodus. The Sox second to the occasion like a veteran—which he baseman let the throw from the pitcher was not—and pulled down the ball! pass unchallenged over his head, and the

“Four to tie ’em and five to win!” runners advanced to second and third, shouted Arthur, as he trotted in to the The cheering grew frantic. The coachers bench. “Come on now, fellows! Let ’s get shouted and danced. “Slim” Gaynor did

this!) We can—What is it, Billy? Don’t his best, but only laid the ball down in

bother me now!” front of the plate and was tagged out be“I’ve got to, Arthur,” said Billy, firmly, fore he had taken two strides toward his a tight clutch on the captain’s arm. “You base. Two on, now, and two gone.

‘ve got to listen a minute. If you want to Billy, his heart racing and jumping, win this, you must let me bat, Arthur. I watched Arthur anxiously. But Joe Ware can’t help hitting with this bat, honest, was allowed to take his turn. Joe was an

and—” uncertain batter. The White Sox pitcher “You ’re up, Waldo! Work him for a tempted him with a low one and with one

base. Get it somehow!” Arthur tugged im- on the outside, but Joe refused them. Then

patiently, but Billy held like glue. a fast one went as a strike, and another “You see, it ’s a hoki-moki wood bat, hit the dirt just behind the plate. The Arthur, and hoki-moki wood has a—a pitcher scowled and would have grooved infinity for horse-hide. All you ’ve got to the next offering had not the catcher sigdo is just swing the bat, and the ball comes __naled for a pass. So Joe walked, filling the

right up and hits it. It ’s the greatest dis- sacks, and cheers rent the air. Arthur him-

covery of—” self followed, and the bunt that he trickled “What are you talking about?” de- toward first was a veritable masterpiece, manded the captain. “Let ’s see your old for it sent a tally across the plate, moved bat. ‘Hoki-moki wood’, eh?” he jeered. runners from first and second, and placed

“Where ’d you get this contraption?” him on his bag! And still holding him firmly, Billy told But three runs were still needed to tie, him, and in spite of his expression of in- and four to win, and two were out. Billy credulity, Arthur was secretly a little bit arose from the bench, pale but determined. impressed. “Oh, shucks!” he said, “I don’t The moment of martyrdom had arrived. believe it, Billy! It ain’t possible! "Course, He would offer the hoki-moki bat to Steve

you might have luck—” He paused and Sawyer, already hurrying to the plate, frowned intently, and then, with a short and—

laugh, added: “Maybe I ‘Il give you a But as he moved toward that youth,

chance, Billy. We ’ll see.” Arthur, shaking the dust from his clothes, Billy had to be content with that. Mean- as first, caught sight of him and recalled while, Waldo Hutchins had waited and his half-promise. And perhaps he had what walked. An attempted sacrifice, however, he would have termed a “hunch.” At all failed to work, and Waldo was cut off at events, his voice sped up the base-line. second. The runner was safe on first. With “All right, Billy Mayes!” he shouted. one gone, the audience began to disperse “Hit it out! Let Billy bat, Stevel”

slowly. Then the Juniors’ right-fielder And so Billy, with a choking feeling in landed squarely and rapped past third, and his throat, went on to the plate and faced

hope crept back into the breasts of his his fate. Mutters of surprise and disgust team-mates. The departing onlookers followed him from the bench. The White

BILLY MAYES’ GREAT DISCOVERY 195 Sox pitcher observed his small form with leaped with joy. Straight behind Mr. Ban-

a frown that held bewilderment and nerman’s garden fence it fell, right among amusement. Then, noting that the rookey the early peas and bush Limas! was evidently nervous, he laughed his de- “Take your time, Billy!” shouted the

rision. coach at first. “It ’s a home run, kid!” “See who ’s here, Jim!’ he called. “Home-

run Baker, ain’t it?’ Tuey never did find that ball, for Mr. “No, it ’s Tris Speaker,” returned the Bannerman appeared on the scene most

catcher. “Be good to him, Tom!” inopportunely; but it did n’t matter, and The pitcher grinned and wound up. no one cared. The Juniors had won, 17 Billy pushed his bat far back. The runners to 16! The hoki-moki bat had proved itdanced and shouted, coaches yelled, the self! And Billy Mayes was a hero! in-field jabbered. But Billy did n’t hear a There were unbelievers who denied to sound of it all. The ball was on its way Billy’s famous bat any special virtue, but now. He tried to watch it and could n’t. Billy knew what he knew and had seen But he swung the hoki-moki bat around what he had seen, and his faith was unjust as hard as he knew how, putting every shaken. But, and here is the sorry part of ounce of his strength into it—and some- my tale, it was several years before Billy thing happened. There was a resounding made another home run; for although he blow, electric tingles shot up Billy’s arms, became a regular member of the team he staggered, and then, still clutching the and, as time passed, a fairly dependable hit-

bat, he streaked for first! ter, the hoki-moki bat had lost its cunning. Far into right-field sped the ball, just It was not the bat ’s fault, however. It was inside the base-line. In raced the runners. due to the fact that, owing to the war, Billy raced, too. Pandemonium assailed his baseballs were no longer covered with ears. As he reached the first bag he sent a _ horse-hidel

final look after the ball, and his heart

A RACE WITH IDAHO ROBBERS by Joaquin Miller

ow that the President has signed the It was two hundred miles to the nearest

Ni: admitting Idaho into the post-office at Walla Walla. The lover of

Union, the forty-fourth star in our pretty names will easily trace this Walla glorious constellation of States, it may not Walla back to its French settlers’ “Voila! be out of place for one who, if he did not Voila!”

really give the name to this new State, No man can look down from the enfirst put that name in print, to record a vironment of mountains on this sweet valpage or two of its early history, and recall ley, with its beautiful city in the center, an incident that still makes his nerves tin- whose many flashing little rivers run to-

gle as he tells it. gether and make it forever green and gloGold was first found, in that vast and rious to see, without instinctively crying trackless region now forming the new out Voila! Voila! It is another Damascus, States of Washington, Idaho, and Mon- only it is broader of girth and far, far more tana, in the spring of 1860, by a small beautiful. In this ride of two hundred miles party of prospectors led by Captain Pierce there was but one town, Lewiston. Get on the spot where Pierce City now stands. your map now, and as you follow the The writer, although not then of age, — story of the ride, fix the geography of this had read law and been admitted to prac- mew empire in your minds, for it will be tice under Judge Geo. H. Williams, after- a grand land. wards President Grant’s Attorney-General. Lewiston, you observe, is at the head of And when news of the discovery of gold navigation on the “Shoshonee” or Snake reached Oregon, I gathered up one law- River, by way of the Columbia River. This book and two “six-shooters,” and set out word Shoshonee means snake. I fancy you on a ride of many hundred miles through can almost hear the rattle of the venomous

the mountains for the new placers. reptile as you speak this Indian word. The Put as gold was not plenty, and there accent, as in nearly all Indian names, such was no use for the law-book, because there as Dakota, Iowa, and so on, is on the midwas no law; and as there was an opening dle syllable. In reading Longfellow’s poems for a good and hardy horseman to carry you will find he has preserved the proper

letters and money to and from the new pronunciation of Omaha by putting the mines, the writer and a young man by the accent where it belongs. And more than name of Mossman soon had nailed up over once this learned man reminded me that the door of the only store as yet in all that Idaho must be pronounced in the same

wild region, a sign which read: “Moss- soft and liquid fashion: I da ho.

man and Miller’s Express.” In these long, long rides we changed 196

A RACE WITH IDAHO ROBBERS 197 horses from five to ten times daily, and of the discovery which was to give State we rode at a desperate speed. We used after State to the Union. You will find the Indian ponies only, and usually rode with- place on the old maps, and some of the out escort, with pistols ready at hand. In- new ones, marked “Millersburgh.” But dians were numerous, but our fear was there is no town there now. not of them, but of white men. In fact, The gold lay almost in the grass-roots, the Indians were by far the most peaceable _ in the shallow surface, like grains of wheat.

people we had to deal with. They always It was a high bleak place, densely wooded

kept our “Stations,” that 1s, the places and intensely cold as winter came on. where we changed horses and drank a Greater discoveries lay further on and in cup of coffee. These Indians were of the _ kindlier climes, and broad valleys and rich Nez Percé tribe. It may not be generally cities receive you there now. But our story

know that these noble Indians were nearly is of the snow and the stony steeps of civilized long before the renowned Chief Mount I-dah-ho. Joseph (who fought the whole United Returning to Lewiston with saddle-bags States for half a year not long ago) was nearly full of gold, I wrote the first pubever heard of. These Indians, under the lished account of the discovery; and the direction of good old Father Spaulding, mew mines were naturally called in that published the first newspaper that was is- publication, as they were called by all that sued west of the Rocky Mountains. They excited mass of people from Lewiston on also printed some portions of the Bible in their way to the mines beyond the Black their own tongue, including many Psalms. Mountain, the “Idahho Mines.” The name, Keep these facts of history as well as the however, like that of Omah-ha, soon lost

geography of this great region in mind; in the mouths of strangers its soft, sweet

and we will now get to the robbers. sound. As before stated, we did not find gold California now emptied her miners, plenty at first, and the “Express” did not good and bad, gamblers, robbers, despe-

pay. We two boys worked hard, took rados, right in upon our new mines and many desperate risks, and lived almost lit- the roads thither.

erally on horseback, with little food and My young partner, a daring and dashing with less sleep for the first few months. boy, who, as I write, is visiting me here But suddenly gold was found, as thick as after thirty years, had many desperate enwheat on a threshing floor, far away to the counters.

east of a big black mountain which the Suddenly, as winter came on, the rivers Indians called “I-dah-ho,” which literally closed with ice, and horses could not go means, “mountain where light comes.” I and steamers could not come. happened to be in Lewiston, on my way I was lying ice-bound at Lewiston. Men to Pierce City with the Express, when the wanted to send money below to their ragged and sunburnt leader of the party friends or families; merchants, anticipatthat had made the discovery beyond the ing the tremendous rush, must get letters Black Mountain came in. He took me into through the snow to Walla Walla. Would

his confidence. I sent an Indian on with I go? Could I go? my Express; and branching off a hundred The snow was deep. The trails, over open miles to the southeast, reached the new and monotonous mountains, were drifted mines, took up “claims,” and dropped an full. Could any living man face the driftExpress Office before a dozen people knew ing snow and find his way to Walla Walla?

198 JOAQUIN MILLER At first the merchants had tried to hire looked back below. Dave English and Indians to undertake the trip and deliver Boone Helm were bidding good-by to two their letters. Not one could be found to mounted cow-boys at the ferry-house. Ten go. When the storm abated a little, the men minutes later, as I looked back through who kept the ferry across the Shoshonee the blinding snow. I saw that these two River scraped off the snow, and cutting desperate fellows were following me. down the upheaved blocks of ice made it True, there was nothing criminal in that.

possible to cross with a horse. The two highwaymen had a right to ride I picked out a stout little iron-gray steed, behind me if they wished. And Canada with head in the air, an eye like an eagle, Joe had just as good a right to ride ahead and a mane that tossed and tumbled like of me. But to be on a horse deep in the a thunder storm. At first I meant to carry blinding snow and loaded down with gold only letters. But having finally consented was bad enough. To have a desperado to take a little gold for one merchant, J blocking the narrow trail before you and soon found I should lose friends if I did his two friends behind you was fearful!

not take gold for others. The result was I had two six-shooters close at hand that I had to take gold worth nearly ten under the bearskin flap of my saddle-bag thousand dollars. And ten thousand dol- where the gold was. I kept my left hand lars of dust you must know means nearly in my pocket where lay a small six-shooter

fifty pounds! warm and ready. Once, as the drifting and A few muffled-up friends came down to _ blinding snow broke away up the mounthe river bank to see me off. It was a great tain, I saw Canada Joe with his head bent

event. For two weeks we had not had a_ down in the storm still pushing on ahead line from the outer world. And meantime of me at a safe distance. A few moments the civil war was raging in all its terrible after, as I crossed and climbed the farther fury. As I set out that bleak and icy morn- bank of an ugly cafion, the two robbers ing, after I had mounted my plunging came close enough to hail me. One of them pony I saw in the crowd several faces that held up a bottle. They evidently intended 1 did not like. There was Dave English, to overtake me if they could, and profess who was hung on that spot with several to be friendly. This I must not allow. | of his followers, not forty days later; there urged my ambitious horse to his best. But,

was Boone Helm, hung in Montana; to my dismay, as I hastened up a narrow Cherokee Bob, killed in Millersburgh; and pass I found that I was not far behind also Canada Joe. This last lived with some Canada Joe. This low-browed black fellow low Indians a little way down the river. So was reported to be the worst man in all when he rode ahead of me I was rather that country. And that was saying he was

glad than otherwise; for I felt that he bad indeed. would not go far. I kept watch of him, I was in a tight place now, and had to however. And when I saw that he skulked think fast. My first plan was to ride foraround under the hill, as if he were going ward and face this man before the others home, and then finally got back into the came up. But I was really afraid of him.

trail, I knew there was trouble ahead. It seemed a much easier task to turn and But the “Rubicon” was now behind. My kill the two rear men and get back to impetuous horse was plunging in the snow _ town. But, no! Nol! All this was abandoned and I was soon tearing through the storm almost as soon as thought of. In those days,

up the hill. Once fairly on my way, I even the most desperate had certain rights,

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y pursuers were not a hundred yards behind me

200 JOAQUIN MILLER which their surviving friends would en- my brave horse, I was soon climbing up

force. the gradual slope at a gallop. Ah, but |

I remember that I fell to wondering was glad! Gallop! gallop! gallop! I seemed what the murderers would do with my to hear many horses! Turning my head body. I had a horror of being eaten by suddenly over my shoulder, I saw my two wolves. I then thought of the true and pursuers not a hundred yards behind me.

trusting men who had sent me forth on ‘They shouted! I was now on the high my responsible task, and I took heart. plateau and the snow was not so deep. GalI was now but a few hundred yards be- lop! gallop! gallop! Canada Joe—thank hind Canada Joe. So far as I could find out, Heaven!—was away to the right, and fast the robbers were closing in on me. But we falling behind. Gallop! gallop! gallop! | had ridden over the roughest part of the was gaining on the robbers and they knew

road and were within a few miles of the it. Fainter and fainter came their curses high plateau, so that the wind was tearing and their shouts! past in a gale, and the drifting snow al- And then: Whiz! Crack! Thud!

most blinded me. I looked back and saw that they both Suddenly, I had a new thought. Why _ had thrown themselves from their saddles not take to the left, gain the plateau by a and were taking deliberate aim. new route, and let these bloodthirsty rob- But to no purpose. Not one shot touched bers close their net without having me me or my horse, and I reached the first stainside? I rose in my saddle with excite- tion and, finally, rode into Walla Walla, ment at the idea, and striking spurs to with my precious burden, safe and sound.

MAUDIE TOM, JOCKEY by Gladys Hasty Carroll

VERNIGHT a great white placard had “Stand, will you!” said Maudie Tom.

() appeared on the blackboard at the “Hey, Bill!”

corner of the village street. Pictures A man leaning against a building thrust of horses were pasted all over it, and there his hat up from his eyes and looked at her. was printing at the bottom. Maudie Tom, There was no friendliness between them— crouched low on Bess’s back, stared at it only recognition and a certain similarity for a long time. Then she tugged on her _ of feature.

rains and cantered into the bustling, “They going to have the races again,

crowded square. ain’t they?” called Maudie Tom, steady She was a strange figure among the _ hands on the reins. thronging summer guests of the little town. “Sure. What do you care?” College-girl waitresses, off duty for a few “When they going to have them?”

hours, hopped on bare pink feet toward “Labor Day, of course.” the beach, pulling off blue-and-scarlet “When’s that?” persisted Maudie Tom. coolie coats as they went. Ladies in soft- “You know I can’t tell.” colored cotton dresses wandered in and The man shifted his position and figured

out among the little gift-shops. Clean, silently. Neither face had altered even brown children stood in sun-suits before faintly in expression.

the big show-window which revealed a “A week from Monday, that is,” said gigantic candy machine in operation. Men the man.

in milk-white clothes strolled about, puf- Maudie Tom jerked on the reins. The fing expertly at fragrant cigars. People horse had sagged in sleep and now awoke laughed and skipped and called across more irritable than ever. She reared slightfrom one corner to another, and drank ly. Maudie Tom sat tight. cloudy brown and rosy sodas from tall “How’s Par” asked the man. glasses. But Maudie Tom rode grim and “Oh, he’s all right,” said Maudie Tom, dark and silent through the carnival of _ laconically.

summer; a big, bony girl with ragged A group of girls walking with linked black hair, blue overalls, and a secure seat arms down the boardwalk watched her

on her vicious, prancing horse. gallop away. “How she can ride!” one of When she attempted to draw up be- them said. fore the post-office, the beast flung her “I always wonder what goes on inside head about and leaped forward. Maudie her head,” another added. Tom sawed economically but inexorably “Hasn’t she a marvelous build, though!”

at the ugly, uplifted mouth. said a third. “Sinewy as an Indian.” 201

202 GLADYS HASTY CARROLL Maudie Tom had seen them from the her schooling. I been meaning to send her corner of her eye, their crisp piqué dresses, right along. A young one ain’t much these their smooth hair knotted at their necks, days without an education.”

but she did not know what they said of But Maudie Tom was well past ten beher. She only imagined, and imagining fore she went, and then she stayed only soon made her mouth grow hard with bit- two weeks. She did not like Portland. She

terness and sulking. She sat forward and could not find her way about; her aunt, urged her mount with a boot-heel sharp and the teacher, too, had whipped her. She

on a red hind quarter. ran away home, and her father slapped her “We'll show them, you old fool of a on the shoulder and they laughed tohorse,” she growled, “come a week from gether. When the ofhcials came again,

Monday.” faintly seasick from their brief boat-ride Fourteen years and a half ago, one De- across the choppy sea, her father said that

cember, Maudie Tom, the lighthouse Maudie Tom was fourteen. It was not keeper’s daughter, had been born in the true, but she was large for her age, and small, snugly built house on the island a after a fourteenth birthday education was half-mile off the coast. A storm raged at not compulsory in Maine. Maudie Tom the time; the strip of water between the had come back to the island, and she meant island and the mainland was too rough _ to stay. It was part of her, and she loved it for doctors to cross. The mother died, but as she loved no other thing.

the baby lived, and was named Maudie Her father, in his glee, bought her a

Tom—nobody knew why. horse and built a stable for it beside their She grew up on the island with her little boat-house on the mainland. Nearly father and a lazy, surly brother who ap- every day when the weather was fine she peared occasionally, when no more con- rowed over, with short, rapid movements vivial roof would shelter him. She drank of her strong dark arms, and mounted goat’s milk and ate hen’s eggs; she ran Bess, to tear away through the village and in the sun and grew as big and strong as__up into the rocky, pine-covered hills, her

a boy. The room where she slept looked hair blowing back in the wind, and salt out on the water, across the path of the water dripping off her boots. But she was signal-light; she learned to trim the lamp not happy. herself. Fogs drifted in, storms blew out She was not happy because of the city of the northeast. She heard distress signals, people who came every summer. She saw saw rocket flares, once made coffee for a perfumed women who looked to her like rescued crew. Sometimes she lay all day the brisk, neat little Portland teacher who on a shelf rock that nobody knew of but — had struck her with a ruler seven times on herself. Gray gulls dipped and soared; her the hand. She saw men who lay, clean and fingers played with wet, dark-green sea- smiling, on the sands, reading newspapers.

weed; wind could not reach her; it grew Little children played games together—

warm, and she slept. games that Maudie Tom had never played. When she was nine, officials came to But it seemed to her that more than half ask if she had been sent to school. She had the people she saw in the village, summer-

not. The officials pursed their lips and times, were girls of fourteen and fifteen.

shook their heads. Even in the dead of winter, when storm “She’s got an aunt,” her father said, “up winds rocked her bed, she could see the

to Portland. She can go up there to get faces of the girls who came to the Cape

MAUDIE TOM, JOCKEY 203 in summer. Laughing, faces with small, Now the poster had appeared, spattered sunburned noses and cool, appraising eyes. with the heads of handsome horses and She could see their figures in bathing-suits, decorated with the complete outline of a or in dresses that were sometimes rumpled _ beautiful bay mare at full stride, her neck

but never soiled. She remembered the stretched out in ecstasy of effort. It was books and magazines old Aunt Maggie time for the trial. Dennis, from the fisher colony, found in “You ain’t got so much looks,” said their rooms when she cleaned the cottages Maudie Tom, buckling a strap about Bess’s at the end of the season. They had pictures, head, “but looks ain’t everything.”

all of girls, and all beautiful. In the winter Still, she trimmed the mane and tail of

nights she thought of them. her mount on Labor Day morning. She “[ hate them kids,” thought Maudie _ brushed the straight back, rubbed downthe

Tom. wide, veined flanks and bulging joints, and She did not hate them for being so even tied a bit of dirty ribbon on the thick

different from herself, but only because of black forelock. Maudie Tom herself wore the opinion she imagined they had of her. a clean dress from the store—a cheap little “They ain’t so much,” she told herself. print with the wild, glaring figures usually “I can do a lot of things they can’t. I’'d like seen in smocks, which became her wonder-

to see them ride a horse like me.” fully well. Two years ago the summer people had It was a cool, bright, windy day. Maudie inaugurated the Labor Day races. Horses Tom and Bess went out into the sun towere bought and a community stable built. gether, down along the coast, through the It was a friendly sport. Men practised on town, and up to the beach where the races the beach before breakfast, advising one were held. Men already stood about with another, admiring all the mounts. There flags and pistols; other horses had arrived, were two girl riders among them, one ina __ stepping high with dainty legs, twitching

brown leather jacket and tweed knick- pleasurably with every thunderous crash ers, the other in a scarlet jockey-suit with of rolling breakers.

an absurd little visored cap. Maudie Tom “I want to get into the races,” said had not gone across to town on the pre- Maudie Tom to a man who held an open vious Labor Days, but she had seen the book.

horses and their riders from her steps, “You want—”

where she sat ominously dour. He broke off and stepped aside to ad“I could beat them,” jeered Maudie Tom, dress another man. Only members of the

“even if Bess balked, the old fool of a Jockey Club were expected for the races,

horse.” but Maudie Tom did not know this. This year she meant to try. It had taken Women and girls and children were apa tremendous amount of self-persuasion, proaching from all directions. The two girl

for she feared these summer visitors as jockeys, one in blue and white this year, much as she envied and hated them. and one in yellow leather, stared curiously. The horses came, and a fine, rich scent of “All right, miss,” said the man of the well-kept horse-flesh made Bess lift her note-book, returning. “Glad to have you.

upper lip and prance and neigh. What’s your name?”

“Never mind being so friendly,” scolded “Maudie Tom.” Maudie Tom. “You've got them all to beat “Maud—Well, what else?”

in the races!” “I don’t—Oh, Tibbetts.”

204 GLADYS HASTY CARROLL “Maud Tibbetts. And the horse?” stamped on her dress. On one side of her

“Huh pe” was a grinning boy on a young sorrel horse, The horse's name?” and on the other the leather-jacketed girl,

_ Bess.” . | riding a steed which looked as swift as ever

. All right, Miss Tibbetts. We start the Lochinvar’s was. Both riders smiled at trial heats in about half an hour. Pil let Maudie Tom and waved to friends on the you know when youre listed. Stand just side-lines, but Maudie Tom did not smile over there, will you, Miss Tibbetts?” back and she had no friends to wave t

The recurrence of “MissneTibbetts” an-high, S|}unlovely too crouched low on Bess’s

noyed Maudie Tom. She sat, big and bacl

glowering, on the folded blanket which

served her as a saddle. When the other The pistol cracked. The horses leaped two girl jockeys came up with proffered forward. At the sound Bess had pawed the sugar, both horse and rider waited with @f 12 nervousness and bad temper, and suspicion. Maudie Tom did not speak, and Set Out a length behind the others. Her

Bess snapped at their fingers. gait was awkward and gangling. She threw “Ouch,” said the girl in blue and white, out her feet like brown spray to each side She smiled at Maudie Tom. “Unfriendly of her step. She kicked her hind left ankle

beast you have.” with her right and left a trail of blood in “Leave her alone; she’s all right,” the sand. The other horses ran swift and

growled Maudie Tom. straight, tails lifted, manes flying, noscs Inside her another prouder, more fiercely in the air. But the girl in yellow leather wretched voice was saying: “You can leave let her mount break from his smooth trot me alone, too. You needn’t try to make out into a gallop, and so was disqualified. The you're so much. I’m going to beat you!” . boy who grinned so engagingly was riding What she was thinking showed in her for the first time in a race; he did not know face. The girls drew away. “Whew!” ex- where to bear his weight or when to urge claimed one. “Isn’t she marvelous, though? his horse. Maudie Tom rode like a part of What wouldn’t Miss Kincaid make out of | Bess—two big, bony, untamed things toher if she had a chance? That girl’s got gether, the girl’s face close to the corded stuff!” And the other said: “She’s a lot of — red neck, her voice quick with unintellipluck to turn up here with that beast. She gible sounds, her boot-heel a sharp, firm fascinates me.” But Maudie Tom did not pressure. The red horse beat the sorrel by

hear what they said. She only saw their half a length. incredulous, faintly injured faces, and the “Two!” yelled the judges in good-

curls escaping under their caps. humored amazement. What of their A broad, white strip of hard sand, the blooded stables now? race-track, divided the two streams of on- “Good!” cried the boy.

lookers. “Splendid!” sang out the yellow-jacketed Nine horses were entered. The officials girl, cantering up. “What riding! Simply

divided them into three groups for the magnificent!” trial heats, and Bess was number two of Clapping ran along the lines. To the the first. A man with snow-white hair and summer people these races added a charmpink cheeks pinned a great “2” on Maudie ing interest to their last day. Having the Tom’s back. She headed Bess into line, picturesque daughter of the lighthouse her heart pounding under the huge flowers keeper entered gave new color to a familiar

MAUDIE TOM, JOCKEY 205 excitement. They rather hoped she would _ tail. Blue sky, blue water, blue ribbons, and

win the finals, and they clapped and laughter. Maudie Tom thought she could

smiled encouragement. not bear it.

Maudie Tom scarcely looked at them. “Get up,” she breathed in Bess’s ear. She was now one of the three best. She “Get out of here before that leg goes

had won the first race! lame. Get up!”

“You wait. I’ll show you something yet,” They galloped off together, as if making

she told them under her breath. “You an escape. She heard hoofs behind, and

think you know it all.” urged Bess faster. Her heart thumped as if it would tear “Go on, you!” through her breast. She dismounted, led But again Dusky Dart proved the better Bess far up the beach, and made her walk horse. The girl in blue and white overin the salt water, to cleanse the wounded took Maudie Tom and crossed before her, ankle. The sound of other pistol-shots and so that she had to stop. more clapping reached them. When they “Where are you going?” she asked. She,

returned, the girl in blue and white, on a too, had straight hair, but it was yellow, coal-black mare, and a fat, little bald- and her cheeks were soft. “You must come headed man ona fiery gray horse, had won back and get your ribbon.” the two other races. They sat waiting, a “Ribbon?” echoed Maudie Tom dully. Number One and a Number Two. Some “Yes, the green one. Third prize, you one changed Maudie Tom’s number to a_ know. Come on.”

2.” The girl in blue and white reached for “You got to do it,” choked Maudie Tom. __Bess’s rein and turned her around. They “You go it, you old fool of a horse! You rode back together, side by side.

got to win!” “I’m Carolyn Kincaid” the girl said. “I But she could not win—it was absurd! think you’re marvelous. I'd give anything Dusky Dart was four years old, daughter in the world if I could ride the way you of His Majesty, and had done six furlongs do.” in 1:15 many times. Gray Skies was a three Maudie Tom lifted her head and looked

year old with a pedigree that filled a full at Carolyn. Her eyes were asking. pigeonhole. Bess was twenty, if a day— She did not think she could have heard badly built, untrained, and nobody had rightly. ever dreamed of recording her parentage. “You live over at the lighthouse, don’t The pistol cracked—they were off! you?” asked the other. Maudie Tom rode as an eagle flies; her Maudie Tom nodded. hair blew back, and her strong body held “Do you stay there all the time?” itself as light as a feather. But Dusky Dart Maudie Tom nodded again.

went past and Gray Skies’ tail flicked “Because I’m going to live here with Bess’s nose. The crowd roared, the breakers my aunt until at least November. I’m sup-

boiled and foamed, the tape broke—with posed to stay outdoors a lot. My aunt’s a Dusky Dart the winner, the blue-and-white teacher, but she’s taking a leave of abgirl on her back. Gray Skies had been a_ sence. I wonder—you know, you don’t three-quarter length behind. Maudie Tom have to say you will—but I wonder if let Bess into a walk twenty paces back. you'd want to teach me more about riding The white-haired, pink-faced man tied while I’m here. Would you?” blue ribbons on Dusky Dart’s mane and Maudie Tom swallowed. She wanted to

206 GLADYS HASTY CARROLL speak, but she could think of no words to Or—is there anything you want to learn

use. Finally she nodded once more. that we could teach your” Carolyn bounced up and down in glee. “Teach me?” said Maudie Tom with a “Oh, good! And listen, will you take me comical, confidential movement of her eye-

over. to the island some time?” brows. “I don’t know anything!”

This time Maudie Tom managed, They reached the judges, and the

“Sure!” white-haired man replaced Bess’s dirty rib“Really? What fun! Do you know, I’m _ bon with crisp green ones. He stroked the beginning to be glad I’m staying. You must thin old nose and spoke gently. Bess did come and meet my aunt. About my riding- not snap at him, but looked up softly out lessons—we’ll want to pay you, of course. of wondering, chastened eyes.

THE LITTLE ELF by John Kendrick Bangs I mer a little Elfman, once, Down where the lilies blow. I asked him why he was so small And why he did n’t grow. He slightly frowned, and with his eye He looked me through and through. “I ’m quite as big for me,” said he, “As you are big for you.”

THE CREW OF THE CAPTAIN’S GIG by Sophie Swett

yey kept the light-house on Great Great Porpoise Island never was known to | Porpoise Island—Aunt Dorcas (no- _ fail.

body ever called her anything but And they kept everything in the tower, Darkis), Saul and Semanthy, Nick and and in the dwelling-house, as bright and

Little Job, and the Baby. shining as a new pin. So when the com-

Job Jordan (Aunt Dorcas’s brother and missioners came to examine the lightthe children’s father) was the light-house house, their report was that “Job Jordan keeper, but Job was, in the language of the was a most faithful and efficient man.”

Porpoise Islanders, a “tarlented” man, and What the family would have done if “dretful literary.” His chief talent seemed Job had lost the position, | don’t know; to be for smoking and reading vividly though I think that Aunt Dorcas would illustrated story papers, and he devoted have managed to keep their heads above himself so completely to developing that water in some way. They all looked upon talent that all the prosaic duties of the es- her as a sort of special providence; if good tablishment fell upon Aunt Dorcas and fortune did not come to them in the natural the children. “The light-house would ’a’ course of things, Aunt Dorcas would conben took away from him long ago, if it trive to bring it.

had n’t ’a’ ben for Darkis,” the neighbors She was very nice to look at, with

said. smooth, shining brown hair, and pretty, Aunt Dorcas did seem to have the soft gray eyes. She had been a beauty

strength of ten. She and the children raised once—in the days when she had turned a large flock of sheep on the rocky pastures her back upon the brightness that life around the light-house, and, rising up early promised her, and shouldered the responsi-

and lying down late, tilled a plot of the bilities of Job’s family; but she was past dry ground until it actually brought forth thirty-five now, and years of toil and care vegetables enough to supply the family; wll leave their traces. She still had a and they cleaned and filled and polished springy step, and laughed easily—and these

and trimmed the great lamp, with its are two very good things where work and curious and beautiful glass rings, which care abound. It was when Mrs. Jordan died reflected the calm and steady light from that she had come to live with them, and so many angles that myriads of flashes when the baby was only a year old.

went dancing out over the dark waters That was four years ago, now, and the and dangerous rocks. Through summer baby was still called the Baby. The reason and winter, storm and calm, the light on for this was that his name was Reginald 207

208 SOPHIE SWETT Fitz-Eustace Montmorenci. His father turned straight up to meet them, the named him—after a hero in one’of his interest appeared to be mutual. story papers. Aunt Dorcas scorned the His shock of red hair would stand upname—she liked old-fashioned Bible names right, too, let Aunt Dorcas and Semanthy —and the children could n’t pronounce it, do what they would to make it stay down.

so it had fallen into disuse. And his ears—which were the largest ears He was tow-headed and sturdy—Regin- ever seen on a small boy—would not stay ald Fitz-Eustace Montmorenci—with a down, either, but stood out on each side of fabulous appetite, and totally unable to his head, so that Cap’n ’Siah Hadlock (who

keep the peace with Little Job. was Aunt Dorcas’s beau once, and still Little Job, who came next,—going up dropped in to see her occasionally, in the the ladder,—found life a battle. His name- _ light of a friend) declared that Nick always

sake of old was not more afflicted. He had reminded him of a vessel going wingsore eyes, and his hair was “tously,” and and-wing. Cap’n ’Siah and Nick were very he hated to have it combed. He was al- good friends, notwithstanding, and now ways getting spilled out of boats, and off that Cap’n ’Siah had given up following docks, and tumbling down steep rocks and the sea, and kept a flourishing store on stairs. When the tips of his fingers were “the main,” there was no greater delight to not all badly scratched, his arm was broken Nick than to stand behind his counter, and or his ankle sprained. His clothes were al- sell goods; it might have been rather tame ways in tatters, and Aunt Dorcas some-_ without the occasional diversion of a somertimes made him go to bed while she — sault over the counter, or a little set-to with

mended them, and that always happened a boy somewhat bigger than himself, but to be just when the others were going fish- these entertaitiments were always forthing. The cow swallowed the only jack- coming, and the store was Nick’s earthly knife he ever had, and when he saved up paradise. all his pennies for a year, and had bought Saul and Semanthy were twins. They a cannon, it would n’t go off. And he al- were twelve, and felt all the dignity and ways was found out. The others might — responsibility of their position as the elders commit mischief, and go scot-free, but Lit- of the family. Semanthy was tow-headed

tle Job always was found out. and freckled, and toed-in. Saul was towAnd this sort of existence he had sup- headed and freckled, too, but he was (as

ported for nine years. Cap’n ’Siah expressed it) “a square trotNick was but little more than a year ter.” Their tow heads and their freckles older than Little Job, and no larger, but were almost the only points of resemblance he took life more easily. He was brave, and between them, although they were twins. jolly, and happy-go-lucky; so full of mis- Saul had an old head and keen wits. He chief that the neighbors had christened him was very fond of mathematics, and had “Old Nick.” Aunt Dorcas thought that he even been known to puzzle the schooldid n’t deserve that, as there was never any- master by a knotty problem of his own thing malicious about his mischief, but lit- making. Semanthy could do addition, if tle did Nick care what they called him. He you gave her time. Saul kept his eyes conhad little, bright, beady cross-eyes, which tinually open to all the practical details of seemed to be always eagerly looking at the life, and was already given to reading tip of his nose. And as the tip of his nose scientific books, Semanthy was a little ab-

THE CREW OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 209 sent-minded and dreamy, and as fond of It was about five o’clock on a sultry stories as her father. Saul always observed Saturday afternoon, in August. Aunt the wind and the clouds, and knew when Dorcas was putting her last batch of it was going to rain as well as Old Proba- huckleberry pies into the oven, and thank-

bilities himself. And if he had been sud- ing her stars that they had not been denly transported to an unknown country, troubled by any “city folks” that day; for blindfolded, he could have told you which Hadlock’s Point, the nearest land on “the way was north by a kind of instinct. And main,” had become a popular summer rehe heaped scorn upon Semanthy because _ sort, and troops of visitors were continually she was n’t a walking compass, too,—poor coming over to Great Porpoise Island, to Semanthy, who never knew which way explore the rocks and the lighthouse. Nick was east except when she saw the sun was endeavoring to promote hostilities berise, and then could never quite remember, tween a huge live lobster, which he had when she stood, with her right hand to- just brought in, and which was promenadward it, according to the geographical rule, ing over the floor, and a much-surprised whether the north was in front of her or kitten. Little Job was in the throes of hairbehind her! Saul was a wonderful sailor, combing, under the hands of Semanthy, too, and had all the proper nautical terms and howling piteously. Suddenly they all at his tongue’s end, as well as numberless looked up, and Little Job was surprised wise maxims about the management of into ceasing his howls. A deep bass voice, boats; if he had sailed as long as the An- just outside the door, was singing, or rather cient Mariner he could n’t have been more roaring, this singular ditty: learned in sea lore. But Semanthy did n’t even know what the “gaff-topsail” was,and “For I am a cook, and a captain bold, had no more idea what “port your helm” And the mate of the Nancy brig, and “hard-a-lee” meant than if it had been And a bo’sun tight, and a midshipmite, Sanscrit. When she was sailing, she liked And the crew of the captain’s gig.” to watch the sky, and fancy wonderful

regions hidden by the curtain of blue This was “The Yarn of the Nancy Bell,” ether, or build castles in the clouds which which Cap’n ’Siah Hadlock had learned the sunset bathed in wonderful colors; she from some of the summer visitors, and liked that much better than learning all was never tired of singing. He had taught the stupid names that they called things it to the children, too, and the experience on a boat, or how to sail one. She was per- of the “elderly naval man,” who had tectly willing that Saul should do that for cooked and eaten all the personages named her. And Saul cherished a profound con- in the rhyme, had fired Nick’s soul with a tempt for girls, as the lowest order of cre- desire to boil Little Job in the dinner-pot, ation, and for Semanthy, in particular, as and Little Job accordingly dwelt in terror an especially inferior specimen of the sex. of his life. Cap’n ’Siah was just what his

Semanthy had a deep admiration and voice proclaimed him—a big and jollyaffection for Saul, but still, sometimes, looking man of forty or thereabouts, with when he assumed very superior airs, and a twinkle in his eye, and a double chin said very cutting things about her ignor- with a deep dimple in it. But what made ance, she did feel, in her heart, that boys his appearance particularly fascinating to

were rather a mistake, the children was the fact that he wore

5|5

210 SOPHIE SWETT

g | g g people,

ear-rings—little round hoops of gold— blushing at it—such old people, too! and had grotesque figures tattooed all over “Well, I kinder calkerlate that the day

his hands, in India-ink. o’ jedgment ’Il get along ’thout my atAll four of the children knew what he — tendin’ to it, but if ever I ’m agoin’ to git

was going to say, for he always said the a good wife, I ’ve got to go arter her!” same thing, whether he came often or said Cap’n ’Siah.

seldom. “Then p’r’aps you ’d better be agoin’,”

“Gittin’ ready, Darkis?” said Aunt Dorcas. Whereupon Cap'n

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The Captain’s gig at Great Porpoise Island

“For the day of jedgment? Yes, an’ I ’Siah sat down. hope you be, too,” said Aunt Dorcas, try- “I come over in the captain’s gig,” ing to force a pucker upon a face that was he said, addressing himself to the chilnever made for puckering. But something dren. brought a color to her cheeks just then— They all looked bewildered, not knowperhaps the heat of the oven, as she opened ing that “captains’ gigs” had an exis-

the door to look after her pies. tence outside of “The Yarn of the Nancy Semanthy wondered if Cap’n ’Siah never Bell.”

would get tired of saying that to Aunt “There ’s a revenue cutter a-layin’ up in Dorcas, and she never would get tired of the harbor; she come in last night. ‘The

THE CREW OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 211 cap’n he come off in his gig, and went off could n’t sail one, and she was proud of ridin’ with some of the folks up to the her accomplishment, especially as Saul alhotel. He wanted some good fresh butter, ways chose her as an assistant in preference an’ I told him I ’d come over here an’ see__to any of the boys.

if I could n’t git some o’ the Widder Rob- “If you are all going, I suppose I shall bins, an’ he said his men might row me have to go to take care of you,” said Saul,

over in the gig. So there the boat lays, jumping in. “But we must n’t go so far down there at the shore, an’ the men have that we can’t see the sailors when they gone over to the cliffs after ducks’ eggs. I come back for their boat.” told ’em they need n’t be in no hurry, seein’ So they all went off in the “captain’s

as I was n’t.” gig”—Saul and Semanthy, Nick and Little The children were all out of the house Job, and the Baby.

in a trice, to see what kind of a boat a But as soon as they were off, con-

“captain’s gig” was. scientious Saul pushed back again and They were somewhat disappointed to sent Little Job up to the house to ask find only a long, narrow row-boat; it had Cap’n ’Siah if it would do for them to outriggers, and was painted black; ex- use the “captain’s gig” for a little while. cept for those peculiarities, they might have And Cap’n ’Siah said that the sailors taken it for a boat belonging to some of would n’t be back before dark, and he

the summer visitors at Hadlock’s Point. would “make it all right” with them. They all had a fancy that a “captain’s gig” Whether Cap’n ’Siah was anxious to get

must bear some resemblance to a car- rid of the children, that he might have a

rlage. better opportunity to urge Aunt Dorcas

“Cap'n ’Siah must have been fooling us; to “git ready,” I cannot say, but he was it ’s nothing but a row-boat,” said Nick. certainly very willing that they should go.

Saul had been there before them, in- Saul’s mind was now at ease, and he specting the boat, and spoke up: “That ’s was quite ready to enjoy himself; but I what they call it—the sailors said so; it’s am afraid that Nick felt, in the bottom of a good boat, anyway, and I'd like to take his mischievous heart, that there was quite

a row in it.” as much fun about it before they had any“Come on!” shouted Nick, jumping into body’s permission.

the boat. “It ’s a good mile over to the “Now we can go over to the Point!” said clifis where the ducks’ eggs are; the men Semanthy.

won’t be back this two hours.” That was Semanthy’s great delight, to go

“Do come, Saul,” urged Semanthy, and over to the Point and see the crowds of Little Job joined his voice to the general summer visitors, in their gay, picturesque

chorus. dresses, the steamers coming in, and the

“I suppose they would let us take it if flags flying. Now and then there was a they were here, but I don’t just like to band playing; and at such times Semantake it without leave,” said Saul, doubt- thy’s cup of happiness ran over.

fully. Saul did not make any objection. He

“Stay home, then. We ’re going, any- liked to go over to the Point, too. Not that how. Semanthy can row like a trooper,” he cared much for crowds of people, or

cried Nick. flags, or bands, but there was a queer, Semanthy could row a boat if she double-keeled boat, which they called a

212 SOPHIE SWETT catamaran, over there, and he wanted to _ pitched their tents on the shore, and hung investigate it. The Point was nearly three out silvery seal-skins and beautiful, gay miles away, but they pulled hard, Saul and baskets at their tent-doors, and the little

Semanthy, Nick and Little Job, each tak- Indian children, running about, were ing an oar. To be sure, they had to keep queerer than anything out of a fairy book. an eye on Little Job, for he had an un- And Nick had an opportunity to invest a

; long-cherished five-cent piece in “jaw-

ie , breakers”’—a kind of candy whose merit es seemed to consist in “lasting long.” Little Da aay : Job had time to be knocked off the wharf | >» Fi by a huge Newfoundland dog, and rescued oe i ai te a dripping. Saul found the catamaran fast-

ps A ‘i ened to the slip, where he could inspect

fon (oy : Way it to his heart’s content. The owner was a ewe A my standing by, and noticing Saul’s interest, At Se a, , - he told him all about the boat, and ended

me es by asking him to go sailing with him.

Fa ff , 4 Cb oT “Go, of course, Saul! You don’t suppose Aas ls shee. - ") pe we can't get home without you?” said ‘Br Re Sak a Wily “Of course you can, but you had better 7 a A i i Wafewecne,, 80 right along. You have no more than

| we fp cae he . Semanthy. |

cil Dulas Rus AN. time to get home before dark,” called wh ! ne Ss, Ne prudent Saul, as he stepped into the catabay Wy i ‘ yo “eet hk . a maran with his friend. a OY es lig ear a) Seo O my! Don’t we feel big!” called out A oh EAS Bee, SSO, \ M'-4. Nick, in a voice which was distinctly audi-

Gey a @ BE Miao? ble in the catamaran. “You ’d think we B Ls aaa lt Ce Fe eS - were the cap’n of the boat! I would n’t feel se Ra = £ Sr : Ree big in that queer old machine—’t aint any

Al. wae ee. kind of a boat, anyhow!” ’ a Pa And Little Job piped up, in a high, shrill

a “ voice:

Cap'n ‘Siah Hadlock “O I am a cook, and a captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig,

pleasant way of dropping his oar into the And a bos’n tight, and a midshipmite, water—if he did n’t drop himself'in—and And the crew of the captain’s gig!” of keeping the Baby in a drenched condi-

tion, which aroused all the pugnacity of It was clearly a relief to get rid of Saul; his infant nature. But in spite of all draw- he was so very prudent and cautious, and backs, they reached the Point in a very kept them in such good order. “The crew short space of time. And Semanthy saw of the captain’s gig” meant to have a a steam-boat just coming in, and it had a good time now! band on board, playing “Pinafore” selec- Semanthy tried her best to make Nick tions, and some Indians had come and _ pull with a will, straight for home, for it

THE CREW OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 213 was already past six o’clock, and she had flew screaming over their heads—the stilla vivid picture in her mind of the sailors ness was so oppressive. all on the shore waiting for their boat, and Then the wind swooped down suddenly furiously angry with those who had stolen and fiercely upon them. On the land they

it. could see the dust of the road torn up in But Nick and Little Job had become a dense cloud, and the trees bent and

hilarious, and preferred “catching crabs” writhing. The smooth water was broken and “sousing” Semanthy and the Baby, into great, white-capped waves. and rocking the boat from side to side Semanthy and Nick tugged away braveto see how far it would tip without tip- ly at the oars, but it was very hard work,

ping over, to going peaceably along. and they made but little progress. The And all Semanthy’s remonstrances were darkness was increasing with every moin vain, until, suddenly, she espied a black ment; every ray of the setting sun had

cloud swiftly climbing the sky. been obscured, and the sky over their “Look there boys!” she cried. “There ’sa heads was black. In a very few minutes squall coming! Now I guess you ‘ll hurry!” they were in the midst of a thick darkAnd they did. Nick and Little Job were _ ness.

not without sense, and they had not lived “Look out! You just missed that buoy!” on that dangerous, rocky coast, where sud- called out Little Job. And in another moden “flaws” came down from the moun- ment he shouted:

tains, and squalls came up with scarcely “J don’t b’lieve this is the way at all! 4 moment’s warning, in the calmest, sun- I think you ’re goin’ straight for Peaked niest days, for nothing. Even the Baby Nose Island!”

understood the situation perfectly. “Well, I aint got eyes in the back o’ my But there was little danger in a row-_ head, like Saul! No other fellow could boat, unless it should grow so dark before tell which way to go in this darkness. they got home that they could not see their Anyway, I can’t tell Little Porpoise from way, or the waves should run so high as to Peaked Nose. We might just as well drift.”

swamp their boat—and the “captain’s gig” “Drift! I should think it was drifting, was not a boat to be easily swamped. with the boat most turning a somersault Semanthy wished they were at home, but every minute. Most likely we shall all be her chief anxiety was for Saul, out in a drowned,” said Little Job, with the calmsail-boat,—and such a queer, new-fangled ness of one accustomed to misfortune.

one, too! “If you say that again, I “Il pitch you “Pooh! Saul knows how to manage any overboard!” said Nick. “Of course we sail-boat that ever was!” said Nick, scorn- aint going to get drowned! It will get fully, when Semanthy expressed her fears. lighter by and by, and then we ’ll go “And if he did n’t, those fellers know home.” how to manage their own craft,” said Lit- “If night were not coming on, I should

tle Job. hope that it would grow lighter soon,”

The black cloud spread so quickly over said Semanthy; “but, as it is, I wonder the sky that is seemed as if a pall had why Aunt Darkis does n’t light the lamp?” been suddenly cast upon the light of day. But, though they strained their eyes to The water was without a ripple, and there the utmost, peering anxiously into the was a strange hush in the air. It was a darkness, there was no welcome flash from relief to Semanthy when a flock of gulls the Great Porpoise light-house. They

214 SOPHIE SWETT rested on their oars, while the boat stood, compass. “Why we can’t see the light |

now on its head and now on its feet, as am sure | can’t tell.” the Baby said, until Nick’s stock of pa- As they drew nearer, the black spot

tience was exhausted. grew larger, and revealed itself as land “I move that we pull ahead,” he said. beyond a question. “I know this place too well to get a great “But it can’t be Great Porpoise, Nick, ways out of my reckoning, and it ’s enough because we should see the light!”

to make a fellow crazy to be wabbling Nick looked long and earnestly, doubt around here this way. We can’t do any growing deeper and deeper in his mind. worse than to bump on a rock, and, if “Well, it must be Peaked Nose,” he said, it’s above water, we ’Il hold on to it.” at last, “though it is certainly a great deal Semanthy was prone to sea-sickness, and _ bigger than Peaked Nose ever was before.”

the pirouetting of the boat had caused her And so they turned the boat in the dito begin to feel that there might be worse rection in which Great Porpoise ought to things even than being drowned. So she lie, if this were Peaked Nose.

was only too glad to “pull ahead.” That the light on Great Porpoise might They did not “bump” upon any rock, not be lighted did not occur to any one but neither did they, after what seemed of them. For that lamp to remain unlike hours of rowing, see any signs that lighted after night-fall was a thing which they were nearing home. They were row- had never happened since they were born; ing against wind and tide, and could not it would have been scarcely less extraor-

expect to make rapid progress; but still dinary to their minds if daylight should it did seem to Nick that they ought to fail to put in an appearance. have got somewhere by this time, unless Since there was no light there, that could they had drifted out into the open sea. not be Great Porpoise Island. That was “Goin’ straight ter Halifax! All aboard!” all there was about it,—so they all thought.

shouted Little Job, whose spirits were fit- They rowed swiftly and in silence for

ful. a while, and another dark shape did ap-

The wind’s violence had abated some- pear ahead of them; but there was no what, and it had begun to rain. If Seman- light there! thy had only known that the catamaran “Oh, Nick! The Pudding Stones! I hear and its crew were safe, she would have the breakers!” cried Semanthy, suddenly felt that their woes were not beyond rem- “It must be Little Porpoise!” edy. But the gale had come on so sud- “Then the other was Great Porpoise!”

denly! Before they had time to take down — said Nick, blankly. “What is the matter

their sail, the boat might have capsized, with the light?” or been blown upon the rocks. Even Nick The Pudding Stones made Little Porshook his head now and then, and said: poise a terror to mariners. If the beams “This squall ’s been pretty rough on sail- from Great Porpoise light-house had not

boats, I can tell you.” fallen full upon them, they would prob“Nick, where can we be that we don’t ably have been the ruin of many a good

see our light?” ship. Now, where was the Great Por“That must be Great Porpoise just poise light?

ahead,” said Nick, pointing to a spot in The other end of Little Porpoise was the distance, which looked only like dark- inhabited; they had friends there, and ness intensified and gathered into a small went there often, but Semanthy had never

THE CREW OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 215 before been so near the Pudding Stones, or him, but rowed as if his own life deand she was anxious only to get as far pended upon it. Semanthy knew that he away from them as possible. They seemed thought she was a coward, and was disto her like living monsters, with cruel gusted with her; but she was sure that, teeth, eager to crush and grind helpless if she and Nick had been alone, she would

victims. not have hesitated.

“Why are you going so near, Nick?” Little Job’s speech and Semanthy’s

she cried, in terror. thoughts occupied but a moment's space. “I want to make sure where we are. The next moment the boat grated against There are other rocks around besides the a rock, and that cry, weaker and fainter, Pudding Stones, and it seems as if we arose close beside them. must have got to the other side of no- “Jehosaphat! There ’s a woman clinging where. If we have n’t, where in creation to this rock! Steady, Semanthy—she ’s slip-

is that light?” ping off! Hold the boat tight to the rock, This did seem to Semanthy an almost Little Job! Take hold here, Semanthy; unanswerable argument in proof of their she ’s heavier than lead!” having “got to the other side of nowhere.” Using all their force, they dragged her

But still she did not feel any desire to into the boat—a limp, drenched form, investigate the rocks just ahead, upon from which no sound came. The boat which the breakers were making an al- rocked terribly, but righted at last. most deafening uproar. But Nick would “Semanthy, she ’s fainted, and she was not turn away until he had fully satisfied losing her hold of the rock! If we had n’t

his mind about their position. grabbed her just as we did, she ’d ’a’ been Suddenly, above the roar of the break- drownded,” said Nick, in an awed voice. ers, they heard a voice,—a shrill, despair- “T think she ’s dead, Nick,” said Seman-

ing cry for help—a woman’s voice and thy, who had put her face down to the

not far away. woman’s lips, and felt no breath.

“A boat has run against the rocks, most “Rub her hands and feet,” said Nick. likely,” said Nick, and pulled straight on “We can’t do anything else, but try to toward the breakers. “We may be in time get out of this place, now; or we shall

to save somebody.” all be ground to bits.”

“Oh, but Nick, it is n’t as if there were “It is so dark! I can’t see to do anyonly you and me to think of! Here are thing!” groaned Semanthy. “Oh, where the children. We are risking their lives!” is the lighthouse lamp? This all seems

said Semanthy. like a dreadful nightmare!”

It was Little Job who piped up then, in “I know those were the Pudding Stones, his high, weak little voice, and not by so now I know the way home,” said Nick.

any means in the terror-stricken wail “The lamp has most likely got bewhich might have been expected from witched,” said Little Job, who was a reader

Little Job. His courage had evidently of fairy tales.

mounted with the occasion. But suddenly, like a ray of sunshine “T guess we ’re all the crew of the cap- falling on the black waters, out shone the tain’s gig, and we aint agoin’ to let any- lamp!

body get drownded if we can help it!” It shone full on the white face of the :

he said. unconscious and half-drowned woman, Nick did not reply to either Semanthy resting on Semanthy’s lap.

216 SOPHIE SWETT “Aunt Darkis! Oh, Aunt Darkis!” they ing questioningly into each other’s faces,

all cried, in concert. in walked a drenched and weather-beaten, “Oh, Nick, aint we dreaming?” said and pale-faced man—Cap’n ’Siah, but ten Semanthy, while a flood of tears fell on years older, it seemed, than he had been Aunt Dorcas’s face. “How could she have that afternoon. But when he caught sight

come there?” of Aunt Dorcas, he threw himself into a “Why, it ’s plain enough. I heard Cap’n chair, and covered his face with his hands, ‘Siah ask her to go over to Little Porpoise and when he took them away they saw

with him, to see his sister, the last time tears on his cheeks—great rough man as he was over. They took our little sail-boat, he was. and went over, and the squall struck ’em “I thought she ’d got drowned, and I ’d coming home, and drove ’em on to the _ let her,” he said. “You see, | wa’ n't lookin’

rocks.” at the sky, as Id ought to ’a’ ben, and that “But where is the boat, and where is— pesky little boat went over ker-slap, an’

oh where is Cap’n ’Siah?” there we was, both in the water. I ketched

“Can't say—p’r’aps all right!” said Nick. hold o’ the boat, and reached for yer Aunt

Semanthy and Little Job rubbed Aunt Darkis, and jest missed her! Then I let Dorcas’s poor white hands, and wrung go o’ the boat, and tried to swim for her, the water out of her pretty brown hair, but I found I was sinkin’, with all my and kissed her over and over again. And heavy toggery on, and IJ ketched hold o’ by and by they could detect a faint flutter- the boat again. Then a big wave knocked

ing breath coming through her parted me off, and I went down, and I thought

lips. I was done for, but when I came up | “But oh—oh, Nick, if we had n’t been managed to grab the boat again. But your

there!” Semanthy said. Aunt Darkis was gone. I could n’t see Nick did n’t say anything. He had too nothin’ of her, and in a few minutes ’t was

big a lump in his throat. so dark I could n’t see nothin’ at all! In a few minutes more they were carry- By and by, after I had drifted and drifted,

ing Aunt Dorcas tenderly and with great I heard voices, and I hollered, and that difficulty into the house. The sailors—the queer craft from the P’int, the catamaran, original “crew of the captain’s gig’—-were picked me up—and there was our Saul

all there; it was one of them who had aboard of her! I did n’t care much about lighted the lamp. The children’s father, bein’ picked up, seein’ your Aunt Darkis they were told, was down at the Widow was drowned, and I'd let her, but now I’m

Dobbins’s. obleeged to ye, Saul, for pickin’ me up!”

The sailors did n’t scold about their Then Nick and Semanthy told their

boat, you may be sure, when they knew © story, and soon Aunt Dorcas told how she

what service it had done. had clung, for what seemed like hours, Aunt Dorcas soon came to herself to the steep and slippery rock, from which enough to know them, and to speak to Nick and Semanthy had rescued her just them, but they none of them dared to as her strength gave out. ask the question that was trembling on “And yer pa he ’s a-courtin’ the Widder their tongues—where was Cap’n ’Siah? Dobbins, it appears, otherwise he might And Aunt Dorcas seemed too weak to re-_ ’a’ ben here to light the lamp,” said Cap’n

member anything that had happened. ’Siah, in a mild and meditative tone. “And But while they were sitting there, look- yer Aunt Darkis an’ me ’s ben a-thinkin’

THE CREW OF THE CAPTAIN'S GIG 217 that yer pa an’ the Widder Dobbins an’ and Semanthy—why, of course Aunt Darher six might be enough here, an’ so you’d_ kis could n’t do without her; and as for better all of you come over to the main and Little Job and the Baby, why, they ‘ll live with me. My house is big enough for kinder keep things lively.” _ us all, and Saul, he ’ll kind of look after So, not only Aunt Dorcas, but the whole my boats that I keep to let, and Nick, he Il “crew of the captain’s gig” are “gettin’ tend in the store, when he aint to school, ready” now.

TABLE MANNERS by Gelett Burgess

The Goops they lick their fingers, : And the Goops they lick their knives; They spill their broth on the table-cloth;

: Oh, they lead untidy lives.

The Goops they talk while eating, And loud and fast they chew.

So that is why I am glad that J Am not a Goop. Are you?

KIN TO THE WOODS A STORY OF THE TENNESSEE CUMBERLANDS

by Maristan Chapman

ALE GILLOw did not want to go and the depét, and up Cragg Hill, each silent

1) stay at his grandfather’s place on with his own thoughts.

Pilot Mountain, but before he could Dale was still thinking about making his think of a good excuse for getting out of escape. There wasn’t any sense in going

the invitation, his mother had told him way off to Pilot, when he had his engine to go along and be a good boy, and watch so nearly fixed. Yet here he was, walking

he didn’t lose his new cap; and his father along as if he didn’t have right use of had called out, “Grampa’s waiting— his legs—stride, stride, stride—keeping hurry along now!” So there was nothing step with the old man, and wishing boys

to do but start out. didn’t have grandfathers.

“Can’t I take my model?” he asked, Ordinarily he liked this grandfather of

lingering at the door. his, who never talked much, but seemed “No! Your grampa will not crave you sort of friendly, and who could carve alto clutter up his yard with a mess o’ wheels most anything out of a pine splinter, or a and string. Likely it'll keep till such time peach-stone. What on earth had given the

as you get back.” old man the notion to ask Dale to go So Dale dumped his newly built steam- home with him the one time Dale craved

engine into a box and carried it out to to stay in town? the tool-shed—just as he had almost got At the top of Cragg Hill they met a it to work, too! He went out front to group of boys, coming back to town from make his manners to his grandfather, pri- a fodder-pulling at Howard’s farm; they vately thinking that when he had a little hailed Dale: “Where you going off to, boy he wouldn’t order him around. He’d Fix-it?” give a boy a chance to say his rathers for “Up to Grampa’s,” he said, longing to

himself. take to his heels and chase back with

The grandfather, Oak Gillow, was a_ them. If he just ran—well, there was nothcalm old man, and he did not see a thing ing the old man could do to stop him. out of the way in interfering with engine Dale wavered and looked back over his building, and carrying off his grandson — shoulder. just because he had taken a lonely notion But Oak Gillow was not an easy man

for company. to run from.

So they trod along the road out of Glen “Maybe the way is overly hard for you,” Hazard, past the big stacks of lumber near he said. “You’re kind of spindling for a 218

KIN TO THE WOODS 219 boy. Happen you feel weak, best go on Suppose Grampa had thought about him

home.” for the boy? If he could get a chance to Dale flushed. He wasn’t very sturdy, tend a real steam-engine for a week or but he disliked being teased about it. He such a matter, he would learn how to was a thin, pale boy, too tall for his build them, and why his model wouldn't strength; the kind who kept out of fights work. when he could, and would sooner stay Oak Gillow tramped on as if he’d used in his own yard and make something — up all his words and had to make a new supthan run around with the gang. But he _ ply before he could open his mouth again.

was good at making and mending things. The sun was lowering when they got He answered the old man, saying: “I'll as far as Fayre Jones’ farm; and Fayre, keep on, I thank you.” Because he knew, who was cutting up wood for the supper if he turned back now, there would be no fire, stopped long enough to ask them end to the tale of how he was too puny to stay for supper and spend the night.

to walk up a hill. Oak answered: “Not this night, kind. As they left the county road and took the thanks; we’d best urge on.”

single path down toward Fayre Jones’ And when they had gained the top of place, the old man went ahead, and Dale the next hill he added: “There’s a young

plodded on behind him. feller, now, is powerful kindly to squirOak said: ““There’s a new squirrel family __rels and such.” |

in the woodlot since you were up last.” Dale said: “You talked about the steam“Yes, sir,” Dale answered. Squirrels! he mill a while back.”

thought in disgust. Grampa must be tak- “And liable to talk some more, time ing him for a baby. He wished he’d I get some supper in me,” answered Oak. thought about bringing his rifle. He’d “And then, maybe, I'll not say another

have shot every squirrel on Pilot. thing.” But directly Oak said: “There won't be A man overtook them soon after they a one left, nor any wild things so-ever, left Fayre Jones’, and gave a hasty “Good-

time they get our trees all cut.” evening!” as they stepped off the path to

“No, sir.” let him go by.

“The company has bought all but my “House afire, Lem Foster P” Oak Gillow

last stand o’ trees now.” called after him.

They had come down the far side of “Got a heap of affairs to tend,” the man Cragg Hill by now, and Dale was wonder- called back. “Me, I’m going off to New ing whether, if he lagged behind, the old Orleans Saturday, early day.”

man would go on, unnoticing; then he It was getting nearly dark when they

could slip off, and then— came to the trees on the near edge of Pilot. “They moved the traveling mill and The timber was shrinking and popping in saw-rig up this morning,” Oak went on. the chill of the evening after the hot day, “That steam-engine’s powerful at eating and the whole world was full of strange

out planks. The men that’s working it chirrupings and small noises. This time hailed me coming down; said they could of day it was a friendly thing to be there scarcely keep up feeding it, and did I withGrampa, and Dale plodded on, with his

know a handy boy to help tend it.” head full of gear-wheels and piston-rods. Dale put off running away for a while. In fact, he was so absent-minded that he

220 MARISTAN CHAPMAN jumped about a foot when a man walked ner of use me standing up to John Nolan,

out on them from a side path. and he with the power to throw my debts

“Evening!” the man said. in my face. He being manager of the “Fair night to you,” answered Oak; and company store has got power to close my

Dale nodded and tried to look as if he credit; and he figures to starve me into

hadn’t been scared. selling him my last left trees. In all my “Come to your senses, I hope?” the new- days I never thought to be indebted; but comer went on, addressing the old man for the sake of the trees I kept putting off

roughly. “We want to get to work here and putting off, and lost myself at last.

right away.” Hit’ll make a sad bareness, time the hills “[’m not over-eager for more than my is naked of trees.”

share of this world, John Nolan,” Oak Dale was going to say that steamGillow replied quietly, “but that share 1 engine mills were made especially to cut

aim to keep.” trees, but thought he wouldn’t. So he said: | John Nolan was a big man, and his “Folks got to have milled lumber. Hit’s

lumberjack clothes, tall shoes, slouch hat, what most of Glen Hazard works at— and checkered flannel shirt made him look cutting out and shipping hardwood.”

gigantic in the twilight. “Course they got to,” his grandfather “Been down begging more store credit, admitted. “And did they cut it right, they'd and getting your folks to help you out, I be plenty and more to come. But they leave guess,” Nolan broke in. “Well, there’s an outlanders come in, hogging in and tearend to that when it gets known you got ing everything down, and flinging waste nothing to pay back all you borrowed.” and trash. They break the new growth and

“I got no more help,” Oak said, with spoil the land, for quick dollars. Time the same quiet manner. “And you will see you are old as me,” he went on, “this I get no more credit save you gar (make, whole hill-country will be ruined wastecompel) me cut my last left timber. Give _ land.”

you good night.” Dale was torn between his loyalty to Dale clenched his fists as the lumber- steam-engines and the wild picture made man strode off toward town. He felt the by the old man’s words. His grandfather insult in Nolan’s voice, though he did not must be right—yet, old men were queer. yet understand what it was all about. No- Down in town they said: “May as well body had ever dared to talk to any Gillow make money whilst it’s offered.” Or, “No ‘ike that, and this crazy outlander was call to be stubborn like Oak Gillow.” And

ordering Grampa around. they sold off their trees without shame till He said the only thing he could think already the near-by farms were bare and of to show how he felt: “I'll not tend his dismal. old mill. I fail of craving steam-engines, Dale puzzled about things, but there

anyway.” was one thing he knew. He hated John Then he felt Oak’s hand on his shoulder, Nolan. and they stood together, looking at the Oak’s house was an old log cabin, spread

hillside of first-growth trees that sur- along a “bench” of the mountain, and

rounded Pilot. nestled up against it so that there was no “Seems like, these times, that the folks back yard at all; and the place was that’s got money got the right in every- wrapped in trees so closely that there was thing,” the old man said. “”Tis no man- just the path to the door.

KIN "TO THE WOODS 221 When they got to the cabin, Dale gave _ sisted, so Dale tumbled out, washed in the

up trying to get matters straight, and big tub in the wash-house, and came in tucked into a hearty supper of bread and glowing and puffing from his bath, as

apple-butter and milk. hungry as a hunted fox.

Within-doors, Oak Gillow’s cabin was a Oak quarreled good-humoredly at him homesome place. The floor was hard- for being late and said: “You’re growing packed earth, smooth and clean as con- to be soft as a town-fetched lass; eat a crete; for furnishing there was only a_ hearty meal, or you'll fail of being stout heavy table and two rough chairs that the enough to feed that mill.” old man had made himself, long years ago; The house door was standing open, and and there was a big chest in one corner, while they were yet having breakfast, a fat

useful to put things in. Instead of beds, boomer squirrel came and sat on the there were bunks, like those on board ship, threshold, waiting to see if she might be built against the wall, the lower one wide welcome at the feast.

and the top one narrow, close up under Without looking around, Oak Gillow

the low-raftered ceiling. dropped a crust of cornbread on the floor After supper, Dale helped clear up, and by his chair, and the squirrel lolloped then spent the hour till bedtime drawing cautiously in and picked it up in her fore-

sketches of his engine. Not that there was _ paws. She looked first at one of the giants, any sense in it. It was just something to do. then at the other, and said, “Chit!” Then Several times he looked up and started to she tucked the crust into the pouch of her ask his grandfather why he had fetched face, just like a monkey, and streaked out

him up; but Oak was carving a twisted so suddenly that Dale could scarcely besnake all around a new cane, and was not lieve she’d been there. in a talking mood. When he was busy with “Most times,” the old man said “she'll his hands it was no use speaking. A per- stay quite a spell. Reckon she’s like the son might as well expect an answer out of _ rest of folks raised in the hills—don’t care

the fire logs. to be over-free before strangers. Come on Yet Dale began to feel glad he had out and we'll go visiting at her house.” come. It wasn’t so bad, sitting here in this It was a gray day, and the thick air was

far-off cabin that smelled of pine-smoke being pushed through the woods by a and earthiness. And directly, it began to steady wind, a “weather-breeder,” the old rain, lightly, and the new, wet air brought man called it.

woodland sounds to his keen ears. They went to a near-by oak tree, so big During the night the weather began and old that its low branches were larger to walk abroad; the rain came in sudden around than the trunks of most trees we spatters and dashed against the side win- see every day. There was a ladder against dow with the rain-wind that came up from _ the tree, and the old man climbed up to the south. This was the colding storm, look into the hole just above the second that blows summer away for good and be- _ branch. Papa squirrel was home, too, and

gins the chill autumn nights and frosty he skipped out of the dark hole and ran up

mornings. the tree, chit-chittering like mad, while his

Oak Gillow was up at four o’clock next mate, who still was busy with the cornmorning, and had an unwilling Dale stir bread, sat near by, not at all alarmed at ing before daylight. Breakfast of toasted the human visitors, now that she was bacon and coffee smelled too good to be re- hostess in her own house. Grampa felt

222 MARISTAN CHAPMAN around in the hole, and then climbed down By this time they had come to the mil] and sent Dale up to have a look at the and Dale did not take time to answer. Al.

family. ready he was eager to get to work. Oak Cautiously, Dale put his hand way in, introduced him, saying to the foreman: as far as it would go, and felt about in the ‘“Here’s that boy I promised you. His name

darkness until he found the soft edge of is called Dale.” the nest. Then he felt something squirm- And the foreman answered: “He fails ing beneath his hand. Gently he grasped it, of being sturdy to the looks. Mr. Nolan and lifted out one of the kittens—such a would be more pleased did you find your tiny, deformed-looking little thing, that way to bringing in the trees you promnosed into the palm of his hand, away _ ised.” from the sudden light. He reached back “I never give promise of trees,” Oak reand got the other. There they lay, help- plied. “Moreover, I’ll thank you to leave less between his own big paws. It gave me quarrel with John Nolan my ownself

him a funny feeling. and not to meddle.”

“You got power of life and death over “Meddle yourself,” retorted the forethem things now,” his grandfather said, man, “and you bringing your grandson from the bottom of the ladder. “Just drop here to stand spy lest we cut into your em; and none would be knowen the dif- last trees. Still and all, we got to have a

ference.” boy. Pll try him, and I'll call him Splinter, Dale put the squirrel kittens back in the cause he’s a chip off the Oak.”

nest, and slowly came down the ladder, “Better quit your plaguing Todd,” one while the mother squirrel darted into the of the workers warned, as the men . hole to see what damage might have been laughed. “Them as baits old man Gillow

done to her twins. is liable to get in trouble.” “T reckon I’d be knowen the difference,” The foreman spat contemptuously, and Dale said. turning to Dale said: “Come on, Splinter,

“What for would your” Oak asked him, and leave me learn you about firing a as they started off toward the lumber- _ boiler.”

camp. Dale stood still. “You call me by my “Hit fails of being reasoned about; only rightful name,” he said, “or there’s not a

it would look kind of mean to have hand I'll lift to this job.”

dropped ’em down.” “All right, Mister Dale Gillow,” Todd “Listen there!” Oak said, as the whine corrected with mock politeness. “Happen of the saw-mill came through the heavy you'll be pleased to take notice, I’ll exhibit air. “You'll be a man grown, directly, and how this engine works.”

likely have a steam-mill of your own, since Dale felt like quitting before he had it’s in your mind to. Then you'll have — started, but his eyes were on the mill. It power of life and death over these forests was very tempting; and there was no and all that lives therein. Maybe you'll sense losing a chance like this just out of think about that. There’s a heap of lumber temper. So he stood by in silence while needs to be cut out; there’s plenty ripe for Todd explained to him.

cutting to make a man rich without he Directly he was given the job of feeding tears and wastes like a heathen and ruins the boiler fire with the short rough slabs the lands for the wild things. Only you got that are trimmed from the logs. When the

to be kin to the woods to do it rightly.” fire was stoked up, he had time to look

KIN TO THE WOODS 223 around and watch the men. He noticed “Tl not have kids hired around the mill, ‘hat when an extra heavy log went liable to get sawed up and killed. Run him through, the engine puffed and grunted, off! Boy!” Dale came forward. “Hot-foot and when it slid out at the far end the it off from here. Move, now!” engine raced like a mad thing. There was Dale came a step nearer and shook his nobody tending the throttle, so Dale fist at Nolan. “I was hired fair and square, ”

reached up, carefully watching the log- he said, “and | worked; and I'll not table, and as the saw got a bite into the go saving you pay me my three hours’ wood he opened up, steadily, to keep the wages.”

speed even, and as the end of the cut was “Hey!” Nolan shouted, “You run off reached and the saw ran free, he closed the when I say run—hear me?” throttle so that the engine idled smoothly “Gillows never take handily to running,” while waiting. It was very easy. Properly Dale answered. “You pay me.”

handled, an engine would last a long time. Nolan paused to take a long breath. - Dale tried to figure out why the governor “Well, sleep me standing up!” he said. on the engine did not do this very thing; “Where have I seen you somewhere?”

task. place.”

and of course forgot all about his own “Last night, up toward Oak Gillow’s “Get down offen there!” the foreman “Oak Gillow’s, eh? That accounts for

yelled at him. “Fire’s about gone. I told you. I’ve struck that snag before to-day.

you—” The old man put you in the habit of But just as he was in the middle of his standing against me, like as not.”

speech the great form of John Nolan “No, sir. I only want my pay, fair.” crashed through the far side of the clear- Nolan looked at him as if he saw someing, and all the men became busy, as if thing funny in this boy defying him, while worked by steam themselves. Dale hopped _ the men he had tongue-lashed were stand-

back to his pile of firewood and began ing around in blank surprise. stoking again, keeping an eye on the big “How much do I owe you?” he asked,

boss meanwhile. reaching into his pocket and drawing out John Nolan was an alarming man, es- a roll of bills. pecially when he let his anger loose on the “Three hours at twenty cents is sixty,” crew, whom he had been watching as_ replied Dale promptly.

they idled away the morning. He got Nolan peeled off a dollar and handed purple in the face as he strode about and __ it to him. “Now you clear out.”

bellowed his rage. He stamped and roared Dale hesitated. “I got no change,” he and flung his great hands about as if he © said.

would like to jump on the crew and break “Tl forgive you that; take your dollar their several necks. He told each one just and go on. But I’ll have no boys working what he thought about him for a lazy around my mill—leave alone a Gillow scoundrel, and by the time he got down boy,” he added. to Dale Gillow, that master-stoker was in Dale walked off, miserable and distwo minds about running off like a rabbit, appointed. Here was his chance to work a

or shying a slab of lumber at the angry real engine gone already. It was no fault

boss. of his that he had been turned away, yet “Who’s that white-faced rat you got he was ashamed to go back to his grandhere?” Nolan demanded of his foreman. father’s house so early. Oak would never

224, MARISTAN CHAPMAN understand his quitting with the day only Dale felt as if the sun had come out

half gone. again. He was impatient not to have Idly he wandered toward town, thinking thought of this himself. about what Oak had said that morning. “Women like Bess,” Fayre said, looking “The man that cuts timber in the moun- proudly at his wife, “women like Bess is

tains has power of life and death over all able to choose both out of two things. wild things, and the people besides.” It Meanwhile, you'd best recall you owe John was an ugly thing to think of a man like Nolan forty cents. Here, I'll change that

Nolan holding all Glen Hazard in his bill for you, and you'll have the money hand like that. Grandfather said the man handy.” that cut timber had to be kin to the woods. “T fail of craving to pay such trash good And Dale himself had wanted to grow up money,” Dale said. “Moreover he forgave

to be a timberman. For that matter, he it me.” had to admit to himself, he still did want Fayre shrugged his shoulders. “Likely

to. For he knew at the bottom of his heart then you’d sooner take a favor offen a that his real trouble was disappointment man you hate.” about the engine. He walked on, getting Then, when they had carried the dinsome comfort from the homelike sounds ner dishes back to the kitchen for Bess to in the woods around him. But then he re- scour, he said: “Talking about debts, | membered that pretty soon there would wonder me did Lem Foster yet fail of be no woods, if Nolan were allowed to go paying what’s due Oak Gillow for that unhindered. It was all very puzzling. stack o’ ties he cut and hauled? "Twas a When he got so far as Fayre Jones’ sizable bill, and likely would cover Oak’s house, he went in and had dinner with credit at the store.” Fayre and Bess, and told them about his “No, he’s not paid it,” Bess said from

morning’s adventure. Fayre and Bess the back room. “Reckon the old man’s were young people yet, and they might prideful, or maybe he’s already tried for perhaps sympathize with his problem, his money. Lem’s not dishonest, but he’s whereas his grandfather would hold out powerful careless the way he fails of his

for checking the timber-cutters. rightful debts.” “Hit’s awkward,” Fayre Jones said Dale made kind thanks for the meal, slowly. “Myself, ’'m kin to the woods and and started happily on his way back, filled the wild creatures; but I see where you with the clever thought that he could grow are bound to be an engineer. Ask Bess, up to own a mill and yet not cut the hills she’s got such wits as this family owns.” bare of timber. He felt nearly grown up

“Give me your plate for more salad,” already, and as he walked through the Bess said. “A man can’t think without he’s woods he studied the trees, looking to see

fed right.” And when she had helped him, which were ripe for lumber and which she went on: “No reason you can’t come should be left to grow larger. Then he at it both ways. There’s bound to be tim- quickened his steps, in a grand hurry to ber-workings here, no matter who says talk over plans with his grandfather. against it. Why not you grow into a right Oak Gillow was sitting on a rough timber-man and run off outlanders like bench outside the cabin, his eyes resting John Nolan? Such times you can work on the near trees, as though he wished the your mill, and deal rightly with the lands picture they made to sink deep within

and the wild folk besides.” him. He did not look up or answer Dale’s

KIN TO THE WOODS 225 greeting, but the boy was so full of new morrow’s early morning, and sign him ‘deas that he went ahead with his story over the trees.” and wound up by saying: “So I'll get to be “You never!” the big timber-man and run a lot of mills, “Tis the onliest way. Man as powerful but I can run them fair and no need to as that can’t be stopped with a thing save harm the old dwelling trees where the wild money, and that’s what I fail of having.”

folk live, nor the saplings that are growing “Maybe he can’t now, but time I get

more timber.” a year or two older, and I'll stop him,” Oak Gillow considered for a long while, Dale threatened. A thought struck him. and then he said: “The only sound fact I “What for you make me come up here to see is: you owe John Nolan forty cents help eat your last food?” change. A man in debt is helpless for any “Just only took a notion you’d care to business. More especially if it is tothe man say ‘Farewell’ to the last trees,” Oak told

he aims to fight.” him. “Climb you up to bed, now, and “Hit’s only but forty cents,” Dale sulked. hasten that growth. These hills need such It seemed stupid to think about that in the men as you will be.”

midst of his big schemes. Glowing with this unusual praise, Dale

“That’s just the same as if it was forty crawled up to his bunk and lay thinking, dollars, or four hundred. Pay first, and while he listened to the rising storm. He

talk big afterwards.” could see lightning flicker through the And that’s all he would say or listen chinks in the shutters and hear the wind

to. tearing at the trees, while sharp bursts of There wasn’t much for supper. Only a rain flicked on the roof and against the small bowl of corn-meal mush and a cup — south wall.

of milk each. Dale did not like to ask if His grandfather pulled the wooden any more bacon and coffee was in store shutters closer, and fastened them with a

for breakfast. wooden pin thrust through a staple; and “A man may as well starve to death as he planted a chair against the door lest die any other way,” Oak said. “But you the storm-wind break it open in the night. got to leave for home to-morrow. There’s ‘Then he, too, got into bed.

no more food.” Dale’s head was a bundle of mixed “But, Grampa, you can’t be let starve thoughts. There might be some way of just for lack of store credit. I’ll ask Dad—” taking care of the old man, if he had not

“Efn I had my rathers,” Oak answered, been so proud; but he’d never humble ‘Td be left be. And do you ware any per- himself to take help even from his own son about it, Ill skin you, and tan your kin, so long as he had a tree of his own to

hide for saddle-bags.” sell, Yet if the trees fell to Nolan, that They played checkers after supper, and would be the end. A person can’t handily the old man was so absent-minded that grow more trees over night. If only Dale he let Dale jump three men and get aking was bigger, or older, he would go after

in one move. that man Nolan and what he would do “You're not playing,” Dale laughed at to him would be a pity.

him, Suddenly an idea came to Dale, clear “Speaking of debts,” Oak said, not pay- as another flash of lightning. Why wait to ing attention at all, “speaking of debts, I be grown? Fayre Jones that day had said give John Nolan promise to see him to- that Lem Foster ought to be made to pay

226 MARISTAN CHAPMAN his rightful debts; and that would keep shuddering a little in the new chilliness, Grampa free of Nolan. If Grampa was too ‘Then, softly moving the chair away from

proud to ask again for his money, some the door, he crept out into the beating one else would, and that some one would rain. be Dale Gillow! He was kin to the woods Phew! He had turned up his coat-collar already, and in the morning he’d go to and pulled down his cap, but that did no Foster and tell him—In the morning—and good against such a tempest. In a few Foster was going off to New Orleans early minutes he could feel the cold rain trick—the south-bound train left at five o’clock. ling down through his clothes.

Blunderhead! he should have thought of Luckily there was no fear of losing his this before and gone to Foster during the way, for although it was a pitch-dark long, wasted afternoon. Now it was too night, he had the instinct of direction that

late. is bred in every mountain boy. Moreover, Dale sat up in bed. It wouldn’t be too he had often gone up to the ridge behind late if he went over to Foster’s to-night. Foster’s house with the other boys, possum-

But that was a crazy notion, with this hunting. storm growling and crashing and the Dale thought about Nolan’s disappointwoods dangerous with falling branches. ment and rage next morning when he He slid down again and tried to get com-__ learned that Oak Gillow could refuse him

fortable. He flopped over uneasily on his the trees, and in spite of the chill of thc mattress, and snuggled down into its sweet rain and the rough wind, he felt a new hay. It was warm, and cosy and safe. Why, warmth inside him—something he had he’d be liable to catch a sickness or some- never felt before, a queer sort of anger and

thing. delight. Where would the wild things of But to-morrow would be too late. Foster the woods go a night like this, he wonwould be gone away; and Grampa had _ dered, if all the trees got cleaned off? given John Nolan harsh promise to sign The path, so narrow that the laurel scrub

him the trees to-morrow—early. brushed close against him on both sides, Dale turned over again and squirmed wound up and down till it seemed at times beneath the covers. Shucks! it was only a_ to be leading back the way he had come. notion, anyway, and a crazy one, more- But Dale knew its tricks and pushed on over. And if it was not prideful for Gram- steadily till he reached the crest of Wild pa to beg for what was owing, it would be Cat Ridge, where his way lay along a

as bad for Dale. Still, it would be for path so narrow that it was all he could Grampa—not like for himself. There were do to keep the wind from blowing him a lot of lumps in this mattress he’d never off, down the steep slope on either side.

noticed before. Dale turned over once He was cautious now, for the walk was more. He was so... warm...and... dangerous even in daylight, and a misstep

comfortable... and... sleepy....To- would send him rolling down into the

morrow— Glen below the steep where, if he were “YOU OWE JOHN NOLAN FORTY not killed outright, he might lie broken CENTS!” Nobody had said it, but there and alone till he died. That had happened

it was. Fact. to a man from Glen Hazard last year, Dale sat up again, swung his legs over when he started out across the hills and the bunk side, and slid down cautiously none knew where he was headed. But a to the floor. He pulled on his clothes, person can’t stop walking when they start

KIN TO THE WOODS 22°77 to get to a place; only Dale wished he’d that led downward to Foster’s. In the day-

had sense enough to leave notice at the light, and to one familiar with such a cabin for his grandfather telling where path, it would have been a simple matter

he’d aimed to get. to step down from rock ledge to root, The storm was not going to help him and from root to rock, and so arrive at the at all. It seemed to be getting worse, and flat bench on which Foster had perched the lightning was too close. In the middle his house; but in the darkness, and tired of the noise, an unhappy thought came out as he was, Dale made slow work of it. to Dale. Supposing Lem Foster was spend- Once he slipped and grabbed at a bush for

ing the night down in town for the sake handhold, but it gave way as if he had of his early train? It would be only rea- only dreamed it, and he slithered muddily

sonable. ° down several feet of hillside. Nearly there “But I’ll never find out unless I keep now! He could see a pencil of light from

on,” Dale told himself. the tiny window. So Foster was home! Slowly he crept forward, often on all Now he’d just got to tell him—The rock fours, waiting now and then to hold on on which Dale was standing, loosened by until a vicious gust of wind had subsided. _ the rain, tipped slowly, turned, rolled from

Every step was anxious. He had no time under, and Dale went tumbling after it now for thinking what he should do or and landed with a tremendous wallop say when he had climbed down the against some railings.

ladder-like cleft that went to Foster’s The air seemed full of feathers, and

house. there was a frightful squawking going on. Steadily he went on, till at last he Then there came a stream of light as the

guessed he was over above the huddle of door of the house was thrown open, and shacks that made Lem Foster’s place. But Foster’s voice demanded, “Who’s there?” at once he felt that he had come too far. Dale picked himself up from the tangle He waited for the next lightning flash that of chicken-wire and watched the hens, into lit the world, and showed him—within a whose house he had fallen, sulkily finding foot of where he stood—the edge of sheer _roosting-places under the bushes. The birds

rock. He had passed the down-path in the were still only half awakened and they

darkness and had come to the edge of kept giving sad, croupy noises of disWild Cat beyond. Before him was Dead _ tress.

Man’s Steep, a straight hundred foot Dale blinked in the light and felt silly.

drop. After he had planned to march in boldly Dale sat down abruptly, and from in- and demand payment of the money, it stinct. Had he stood a moment in the was too stupid to be a tired, wet, scared

darkness that followed the revealing flash, boy, standing among the wreckage of hen-

he must have pitched forward into the coops! abyss from sheer fright. Still sitting, he “Time has come when I’ve gone and drew himself backwards, and at a safe dis- caught that thief whose been pestering tance stood up again, turned about and my hens,” Foster said, “and me thinking walked step by step, ten paces. Then he all the while it was a possum.” waited, “feeling for his distance” as the “T never!” Dale denied. “What I mean mountain people do, walked ten more to say is—” But he was shivering all over paces and, when the lightning flared out so he couldn’t talk without his teeth chatagain, found himself at the top of the rift tering; and he was angry because Foster

228 MARISTAN CHAPMAN would think he was scared. This was a might maybe I could come it. Though a very bad beginning to the business. man hasn’t always ready money to hand. Foster told him to come up close, where Your old man never did pleasure me he could see him; and when Dale stepped much, so I never hastened to convenience

forward, Foster let out a great roar of him.” laughter. He took Dale by his sodden Dale said: “Even did you poison-hate coat-collar and pulled him into the house. Grampa, that wouldn’t forgive you not “Gillows sure must be thick in the hills paying what you lawfully owe him.” to spill over in these parts on such a night. “Maybe not, Mister Lawyer,” Foster adWell, since you’re a Gillow boy you’ve not mitted with a smile. “But I failed of come chicken-stealing. Get warm whilst knowen the old man was so hard pressed.” you tell out to me how come you're trapes- He got up briskly from his chair and

ing about at this hour, and in a storm, took a blanket from his bed.

furthermore.” “Skin off your wet clothing, boy, and Dale soaked up the grateful warmth roll up on the mat near the fire. Leave

of the big fire that crackled on the hearth, me to figure a while and I'll contrive a way

and his head began to go round and to spare your trees. Hit’s no harm to do round, “I wisht for you to tell me,” he a ill-turn toa man like John Nolan, either; said slowly, trying hard to think straight, that'll pleasure me a heap.”

“should I pay John Nolan forty cents.” “Give you kind thanks,” Dale said, Lem Foster paused as he was pouring drowsily. And then, when he felt sleep boiling water from a kettle into the coffee- already getting the best of him, he opened

pot. one eye and added: “You're not a danger“Dale Gillow!” he said, “you never come ous man, like I thought.”

way over the mountain through this storm “No, I’m not specially dangerous,” just to ask me that! Here, drink this mug Foster owned, “saving when boys don’t go

of coffee and then tell what’s on your to sleep. Then I’m likely to turn sour; go

mind.” on now, and leave me figure.”

While Dale sipped the steaming coffee When Dale woke up Foster has gone and felt the warmth coming back into his already, and the sun was shining as if to bones, he slowly told out the whole story. make up for lost time. There was half a Foster stacked more wood on the fire and loaf of bread on the table, some butter and then sat quietly smoking his pipe until jam, and a glass of milk. When he began

Dale finished. to eat, Dale saw a piece of paper beneath

“I fail of seeing where this Nolan and the glass, with a scrawl that Foster had tree business is specially my affair,” Foster written: “Throw out such food as you said, for Dale had told his story rather ina don’t eat in case of rats I will not be back

muddle and it was not quite clear why until three weeks there is a check for

Foster should be called in. Oak Gillow under the butter-plate and I “Why, this way,” Dale said. “Happen hope the trees will be all right Lem Fosyou pay Grampa for the ties he cut and ter.” hauled, he’d keep his trees and the wild Dale was alarmed to see how high the

things would have homes and—” sun was; it must be after six o’clock, and “All right, all right, wait a minute,” if he didn’t hurry, Nolan would have got Foster said. “Seemed I got you thawed the tree contract signed already. He found out too soon. About that lumber bill; the check, gulped some milk, and, eating

KIN TO THE WOODS 229 a chunk of bread as he went along, started father should sign his name to that timber

back. contract before Dale got to the cabin, all It was easy to follow the path in the would be useless ruin. He slid heltercheerfulness of a fine morning, but it skelter down the near slope, crashed down seemed a woeful distance to run when a bank, climbed the fence, and was at the Nolan might be there even now. Dale tried cabin door.

to run and eat at the same time and choked Oak was dipping a pen into a bottle of twice on crumbs before it occurred to him ink, and Nolan towered over him with

to throw the bread away and give his his hand outstretched to take the con-

mind to getting along. tract, as if he was afraid of losing it at At last he could see the dark shape of this last minute, when Dale dashed

Oak Gillow’s cabin among its trees. It through the door, panting and specchless, seemed a long while since he had been and grabbed a folded slip of paper from there; last night’s journey seemed to have _ his pocket to thrust before his grandfather.

happened weeks ago. Again Dale tried to speak, but only manAs he drew closer he could see his aged a rather rusty crow of excitement. grandfather standing outside the door— The old man sat very still, and after no, two figures were there; and the other looking hard at Dale, as if to be sure he was Nolan. Dale ran on faster. John Nolan was actually there, he turned the check was stamping about and waving a paper over and slowly wrote his name, and the in the face of the old man, who stood with words “Pay to John Nolan.” Then he stood his hands shading his eyes looking across up and waited for Nolan to take the papers

the hills. from the table.

Nolan’s voice came booming over the “There’s your money, John Nolan,” he

hollow: “Never mind about the brat; small said. “You'll not be cutting my trees this loss efn he did run off and lose himself. day, nor ever, since the boy has grown to You sign here and quit wasting my time, help me guard ’em. Guess I'll keep ’em or I'll have Sheriff Joe Marks up here!” until Dale gets his mill.”

“You hush,” Oak Gillow rebuked him, Nolan opened his mouth to speak. But his quiet voice slicing clearly through the there wasn’t anything to say.

still air. “I thought first you’d made off Dale was reaching for something in the with my boy; but since I see him on his bottom of his pants’ pocket. He stepped way, safe on his legs, happen I’ll content up to the table and carefully put four

my mind to tend this affair.” dimes on the papers that Nolan was about The two men disappeared within the to take up. “A Gillow always pays his cabin. debts,” he said. Dale had waved frantically and tried to Then he turned and ran out of doors, shout “Wait!” to his grandfather, but his to the big oak-tree where a gray squirrel voice was only a feeble croak. If his grand- sat chittering in the upper branches.

BASS COVE SKETCHES by J. T. Trowbridge

Young Joe and the Ducks NE day, a good many years ago “Walk up, gentlemen, and take a look! () young Joe Scoville, of Bass Cove, Don’t cost nothin’ to take a look, whether

went up to town to sell some wild ye buy or not!” he called out. “How d’e ducks he had shot. Old Joe (that was his do?” father) had said to him, early in the sea- He said “How d’e do?” to about the son, “When I see you come a-luggin’ handsomest, best-dressed, and -fattest man home a couple o’ dozen ducks to oncet, either he or anybody else ever saw. He then I ‘ll let you go and try your hand had a cane in his hand and a cigar in his sellin’ on ’em;” and young Joe, having mouth, and was altogether a nice, plump, bagged that morning his two dozen and _ shiny fellow, from his hat to his boots. upward, had now for the first time in his He did not say in reply, “Pretty well,

life come alone to market. thank ye; how are you?” as Joe, who had

And very proud was young Joe, ] assure been taught good manners at home, you. He drove smartly into the Square, thought he ought.to have done; but, with and cried, “Whoa!” and Here’s yer nice his hat tipped airily on one side of his fine ducks, gentlemen! walk up, gentle- head, and his cigar sticking up jauntily men!” and nodded respectfully to custom- out of one corner of his mouth, he ers, and felt and acted very much like old came along and looked carelessly into the

Joe, his father. wagon. He thought everybody appeared greatly “Hello!” said he, when he saw the pleased with him. Some looked at his ducks. He took the cigar out of his mouth, freckled face, long hair, and old coat that and said “Hel-lo!” again, more emphatihad been his father’s (and had seen I cally than before, and looked up at young don’t know how many Atlantic storms), Joe. “Where did you get these?”

and smiled approvingly. Some appeared “Shot ’em; where d’ ye s’pose?” said delighted with his manners—so fresh and young Joe, proudly.

natural, you know. Others regarded his “You did n't shoot ’em?r—a boy like little old one-horse wagon, and queer little you!” said the fat man.

pony,—with his unkempt mane about his “Mabby I did n’t,” replied Joe, indigface and eyes, which gave him a striking nantly; “and then, ag’in, mabby I did; and resemblance to young Joe with his long it’s a little more I did than I did n’t, this hair,—as if they had never seen anything time, I guess!” so agreeable. “What pleasant folks these “Bless my heart! if I aint surprised!”

city folks bel” thought young Joe. Now the handsome and well-dressed 230

BASS COVE SKETCHES—YOUNG JOE AND THE DUCKS 231 plump gentleman happened to be no other that ’s my father. Stage-driver ‘Il set ye than Mr. Augustus Bonwig, the confec- down right by the door. Hope yo ’Il bring tioner, whose celebrated candy-shop was a good gun. I ha’nt got much of a gun, well and favorably known to every good nor dad ha’nt, neither;—sometimes IJ take boy and girl in town. He looked almost mine, and sometimes I take his ’n, and as if he had been made of candy himself— sometimes I take both;—flint-locks; miss clear white and red, and a great deal of fire half the time; but we manage to make it. There was one thing he was remark- ’em do, seein’ we ’ve got the hang o’ the

ably good at, but on which he did not ducks.” pride himself at all, and that was—his This speech greatly encouraged Mr. Bonbusiness. There was another thing he was_ wig, who thought that if such a green not so good at, but on which he naturally youth as Joe, with an old flint-lock, could prided himself a good deal (for that is the bag wild ducks at Bass Cove, surely he,

way with some of us), and that was— Augustus the sportsman, with his fine gunning. He did n’t care whether you double-barreled fowling-piece and modern praised his sweetmeats, or not; but if you accouterments, must have great success happened to say, “Bonwig, people tell me there, and astonish the natives at their own you are a fine shot,” that pleased Mr. game. He named an early day for his visit, Augustus Bonwig. It was this ambition of and already imagined himself shooting his which caused him to regard young ducks by the dozen. Joe with sudden interest, and to exclaim “’Arly in the mornin’ ’s the best time for again, very emphatically, after having ex- ’em,” said Joe, who accordingly advised

amined him and the ducks once more, him to come down the evening before, “Bless my heart now! I am surprised!” and stop overnight. “Do — you — want — to — buy — them To this Mr. Bonwig agreed, and walked —ducks?” demanded young Joe, ungram- away in fine spirits, with his hat on one matically, but very distinctly, beginning to side, swinging his cane, and puffing his distrust Mr. Bonwig. “If you don’t, you jaunty cigar. Then, having sold his ducks

need n’t feel obliged to handle ’em any for a good price, and bought a new fur

more, that’s all.” cap for Winter wear, and a glass of very “No, I don’t care to purchase; but I Il small beer for immediate consumption, give something for a chance to shoot afew and a rattle for the baby, and a paper of

such birds,” said Mr. Bonwig—and brown sugar for the family, all with the

blessed his heart again. duck money, young Joe turned about and

“Oh! that ’s it! Wal, you come down drove home, with a pretty good handful our way some time, and I ’ll show ye a_ of small change still jingling in his pocket. chance. Ye can shoot as many black ducks One evening, not long after, the stageand coots and old wives as ye can carry coach rolled up to old Joe’s door at the away on yer back. And I wont charge ye Cove, and a stout sporting gentleman got nothin’ for ’t, neither. Takes gumption down over the wheel, from the top, and to git ‘em, though, sometimes!” said Joe. | jumped to the ground. It was Mr. Augus“I guess if you can get ’em I can, fast tus Bonwig, looking plumper than ever, in

enough!” said the smiling Augustus. his short hunting-jacket, and handsomer

“Where do you live?” than ever, to young Joe’s fancy, in his “Bass Cove. Ask for old Joe Scoville— magnificent hunting-boots (red-topped,

232 J. T. TROWBRIDGE trousers tucked into them), and with the placed it on the coals, and made other fine double-barreled gun he carried. preparations for supper. “Oh, a’nt that——!” exclaimed Joe, pois- “Sed down, sed down,” said old Joe; and

ing the gun. He did not say what—no Mr. Bonwig sat down. And the children word in the language seemed adequate crowded around him, to admire his watchto express the admiration and delight with chain and his red-topped boots. And the which he regarded the beautiful fowling- amiable Augustus, who had come prepared piece. “And what boots them are for wet for such emergencies, pulled out of one walkin’! And ha’nt you got the splendidest pocket one kind of candy, and another

game-bag, though! And what a huntin’- kind out of another pocket, and still a cap!—it don’t seem as though a man could third variety from a third receptacle, and

miss a bird, that wore such a cap as that! so on; for his hunting-suit seemed to be Come in,” said Joe, his respect for Mr. literally lined with pockets, and all his Bonwig greatly increased, now that he pockets to contain more or less of those had seen him in such noble sporting rig. celebrated sweetmeats so well and so “Father’s to home. And I ‘Il show you favorably known to the good boys and girls our guns—old-fashioned queen’s-arms, in town. And Mr. Bonwig was pleased to

both on ’em.” observe that human nature was the same “Bless my heart!” said Augustus, smil- everywhere; country boys and girls were

ing. like city boys and girls, in one respect at “Well, now, I am surprised! You don’t — least—all liked candy.

mean to say you shoot ducks with those “O, a’nt it good!” said Maggie.

things? Well, well! I aml!” “Prime! I tell ye!” said Joe, who had his “My boy there,” said old Joe, filling his share, of course.

pipe and cocking his eye proudly at the “Goodie, good!” said Molly. youngster, “he ’d shoot ducks with ’most “Goo, goo!” crowed the baby. anything, I believe. He ’d bring ’em down “Oh, my!” said Tottie. with a hoe-handle, if he could n’t git holt And they all sucked and crunched, with o’ nothin’ else. He ’s got a knack, sir; it’s cheeks sticking out and eyes glistening, all in havin’ a knack.” And old Joe, who just like so many children in town, for all

had been standing with his back to the the world. And Augustus was happy, fire, turned about and stooped to pick thinking just then, I imagine, of three or up a small live coal-with the tongs. “Then four plump little darlings at home, of ag’in,’—he pressed the coal into the bowl whom he was very fond, and whom he of his pipe, and took a puff,—“ducks is*°— never left for a single night, if he could puff, puff—“puty plenty,’—puff,—“and help it, unless it was to go on some such puty tame on this here coast, about now.” glorious hunting frolic as this.

And the old man, having lighted his pipe, It was a poor man’s kitchen. J don’t and replaced the tongs in the chimney- think there was a carpet or a table-napkin corner, stepped aside, to make room for in the house; the ceiling was low, the win-

his wife. dows were small, the walls smoky, and Mrs. Joe swung out the old-fashioned everything was as plain and old-fashioned crane, hung the tea-kettle on one of the as could be. But Mr. Bonwig, nice gentlehooks, and swung it back again over the man as he was, appeared delighted. He fire. Then she greased the iron spider, prided himself on his sportsmanlike habits,

BASS COVE SKETCHES--YOUNG JOE AND THE DUCKS 233 and so the rougher he found life down on — shootin’; but I ‘Il jest take what you leave

the coast, the better. He admired the little —though | don’t suppose that will be smoky kitchen, he liked the fried perch much,” said he. and cold wild duck for supper, and he It was a cool Autumn morning. The air was charmed with the homely talk of was crisp and exhilarating. The morning gunning and fishing, and storms and light was breaking, through dim clouds, wrecks, which took up the evening, and over land and sea. Joe led the way over the with the bed of wild fowls’ feathers on short wet grass, and rocks and ledges, of

which he passed the night. a rough hill back of the Cove. At last he The next morning young Joe came to his pulled the eager Augustus by the jacket, bedside, candle in hand, and awoke him, and said:

before dawn. “Be sly now, climbin’ around them “Hello!” said Mr. Bonwig, rubbing his rocks yender! There ’s a beach t’ other side, eyes open. “Hel-lo! I am surprised! I was and a little stream o° water runnin’ acrost

having such a splendid time! I thought I it. Black ducks can't git along, as some was hunting ducks, and I had got a whole kinds can, with salt water alone—they flock in range of my two barrels, and was alluz have to go to fresh water to drink, waiting for a few more to light; but I was and we ’re apt to find ‘em around Beach just going to shoot, when you woke me.I Brook here, ‘fore folks are stirrin’. "T was

wish I had fired before!” on this beach father shot the twenty-five,

“Wal, you come with me, and mabby to one shot, he told ye about last night.” your dream ‘Il come to pass,” said young “Was that a true story, Joe?” Augustus Joe, leaving him the candle to dress by. asked, growing excited. Mrs. Scoville was already cooking their “True as guns,” said Joe. “Ye see, they breakfast, “For, like as not,” she said, “they all gether in a huddle along by the brook, would n’t be back till noon, and they must and you ’ve only to git in range of ’em,

have a bite of something to start with.” and let fly jest at the right minute; some- | Mr. Bonwig was sorry she had given times there ’ll be a flock of a hundred, like herself so much trouble; but he afterward, as any way, and ye can’t miss ’em all if

as we shall see, had good reason to be ye try.” thankful that he had taken that “bite.” “T should think not!” said Mr. Bonwig, At daylight they set out, Mr. Bonwig taking long, noiseless strides in his huntwith his fine, stub-twist, two-barreled ing-boots, and holding his gun in the apfowling-piece, and young Joe with both the proved fashion. “Only show me such a old queen’s-arms, his own and his father’s. chance!” Mr. Bonwig wished to know what the “T “Il wait here in the hollow,” said Joe.

boy expected to do with two guns. “You crawl over the rocks, and look right “They may come handy; they ’most down on the beach before ye, and——By

alluz does,” said Joe. sixty! there ’s a flock lightin’ now!—see “But I ’ve my gun this time,” said ’em?” Augustus; “and I] shall want you to carry “Bless my heart!” said Bonwig, in no

the birds.” little trepidation.

That was a somewhat startling sugges- He took the route Joe pointed out, and tion; but Joe thought he would take both soon disappeared behind the ledges. Then

guns, nevertheless. all was silence for several minutes, while “T a’nt goin’ to come in the way of your Joe waited to lear the double report of the

234 J. T. TROWBRIDGE destructive fowling-piece, and to see the ning up in high glee, to offer his congratufrightened flock of ducks—or such as were _ lations and to help pick up the dead birds.

left of them after Mr. Bonwig’s shots— He looked, expecting to see the beach

Hy up again. strewn with them.

Bonwig in the meantime crept along be- There was n’t a bird on the beach, dead hind a pile of rocks Joe had described to or alive!

him, and, looking through an opening, In utter amazement, Joe turned and saw a wonderful sight. Before him spread looked at Mr. Bonwig. That gentleman the broad, smooth beach, washed by the — stood with his portly form erect, his head

surf. There must have been a high wind thrown back, and his mouth and eyes off the coast during the night, for the sea open, staring at the sky, into which his was rough, and long, heavy breakers came fine covey of ducks were rapidly vanishing.

curling and plunging magnificently along “Well, well!” said he. “Now, now! If I the shore. The morning clouds were red- aint surprised! Who ever saw anything dening over the agitated ocean, which happen like that? BLess—my—neart!”

faintly reflected their tints. “Not a darned duck!” said Joe.

But the sight which most interested Mr. “O, I must have wounded some! I must

Augustus Bonwig was the game that have wounded about twenty!” Augustus awaited him. The brook, which cut out declared. He looked critically at his gun; afresh its channel across the beach, as often then he turned his gaze once more at the as the tide, which filled it with sand twice sky; then he looked at young Joe, who was

in the twenty-four hours, receded—the beginning to grin. “I think my shot must little brook, from the rocks to the surf (it be too fine,” said Mr. Bonwig. was now half tide), was alive with ducks, Joe asked to see his lead.

and more were alighting. “°T aint no finer ’n what J use. Feathers Mr. Bonwig silently blessed his heart on a loon’s breast are so thick them shot two or three times—and well he might, would n’t go through ’em; have to fire at for it was beating with very unsportsman- a loon’s head, when he ’s facin’ ye. But | like rapidity at that exciting moment. His don’t see how ye could let fly into a hand shook so that it was well that Joe, if flock o’ loons even without knockin’ over he was to retain his high respect for him as a few.”

a gunner, did not see them. In fact, Mr. “It ’s a very remarkable circumstance!— Bonwig, who fancied himself a sportsman very singular!—very surprising!” observed because he had been sometimes successful Mr. Bonwig, wounded in his tenderest in firing at a mark, found this a very dif- point,—his pride as a sportsman,—and beferent business. He hardly knew whether traying a good deal of chagrin and agihe took aim or not. That one barrel went tation. He was very much flushed. He took off prematurely in the air is quite certain. off his cap and wiped his forehead. “Just At the report,—the like of which ducks on let me try that thing over again, that ’s

that coast had made acquaintance with all!” before, and knew that it meant mischief, “Best way now will be to go off to the —the entire flock of a hundred or more island,” said Joe. “That ’s our dory. Jest flew up at once, with a sudden noise of help me shove it off, and we ’Il have some

wings which could be heard above the fun yet!” roaring of the breakers. Then the other “Yes, yes—so we will!” said Bonwig. barrel went off. Then young Joe came run- And so they did.

Off to the Island tess my heart!” said Mr. Bonwig, breaker came, he had the oars in his hands,

B amazed at the huge rollers that ready to meet it. came tumbling in. “How are we “Well, well!” said Mr. Bonwig. “I am ever going to get a boat outside of them surprised!” And well he might be; for,

without swamping herr” you see, this embarking in the breakers is “T ‘ll show ye,” said Joe. a business that calls for no little skill and The dory was dragged down to the edge experience; you must take advantage of

of the surf. Then Joe put in the guns. them, and see that they don’t get the adThen he gave the skiff another gentle vantage of you. They have no mercy; and shove, into a receding wave. Then he told _ if they ever strike your skiff sideways, over

Mr. Bonwig to get aboard. she goes in an instant, and there she rolls

“I "ye a wife and children at home!” to and fro in the foaming jaws until they murmured that affectionate husband and crunch her to pieces, unless some strong father. “If anything should happen!” hand at the right moment seizes and drags “What in sixty ye think is goin’ to hap- _ her out.

pen?” cried Joe, impatiently. Young Joe, first by skillfully pushing “IT am very heavy!” said Augustus. off, then by prompt management of the “So much the better; you ‘ll make oars, kept the dory straight across the rol-

splendid ballast,” grinned Joe. lers, and soon had her safe outside of them.

“You are going, too?” Then he commenced rowing strongly and “Of course I am; I ha’nt got no wife steadily toward a rocky island, two or

and children—not much!” three miles off, over the ends of which the There was something in Joe that in- sea was dashing high and white.

spired confidence, and Mr. Bonwig re- Mr. Bonwig was seated in the stern, solved to stand the risk. He seated him- which he freighted so heavily that the self in the boat. Joe stood on the beach, bow stuck up ludicrously high out of the holding the bow, and waiting. The waves water. He had now quite recovered his

were out. equanimity. “You never can shove me off in the “Well! I enjoy this!” said he, and lighted world!” said Mr. Bonwig, painfully con- a cigar. “How easy this boat rows!”

scious of his own corpulence. “It does, to look on,” said Joe. “You Il see,” said Joe. The next moment “I am surprised!” said Mr. Bonwig. “I ’d the waves were in. A heavy swell lifted the no idea one of these little skiffs pulled so dory, ballast and all. The ballast uttered easy!” and he smoked complacently. a scream, and made a motion as if to jump “How good that cigar tastes!” said Joe,

overboard. “Keep yer seat. All right!” with a grin. “I had no idee cigars tasted so screamed Joe, pushing off. As the next good!” breaker lifted the stern, he gave another “Young man,” replied Augustus, laughshove, and jumped aboard. Before the third ing, “I see the force of your remark. Per235

236 J. T. TROWBRIDGE haps you think I might offer to row. But wind to help him; and he could n’t run I want to keep my nerves steady for the on the land, nor fly up from the land; and ducks. I ‘ll row coming back, and that there was n’t any good chance to dive. A will be a good deal harder, for we shall loon ‘Il go down in deep water, and like

have a load of game, you know.” as not ye won't see anything more of him “All right,” said Joe. “No, I thank ye’— till by’m-by he comes up a quarter of a as Bonwig offered him a cigar. “But if you mile off, or mabby ye wont never see him happen to have any more of that ere sweet agin,—for he can swim with jest a little

stuff about ye——” speck of his body out of water, so that it “Oh, to be sure!” and Augustus had takes a perty sharp eye to git sight of him. the pleasure of filling the young man’s But this loon in Bemis’s pond could n’t mouth with candy. “What sort of ducks come none o’ them tricks, and I jest stoned

do we get at the island?” him till he could n’t dive, than I in arter “Coots and black ducks, mostly,” said him, and ketched him. He was a fat feller, Joe (and I wish I could make the words I tell ye!” sound as sweet on paper as they did com- “That ’s a good loon story,” observed ing from his candied lips). “Black ducks Mr. Bonwig.

go along the shore to feed, when the tide “I can tell ye a better one than that,” is low. They find all sorts of little live said Joe. “My father went a-fishin’ off the things on the rocks and in the moss, and end of that island once, and as the fish in them little basins the tide leaves in holler would n’t bite, and the sea was calm, he places. They never dive deep; they only jest put his lines out and laid down in the jest tip up, like common ducks. But coots bottom of the dory, and spread a tarpaulin

will feed where the water is thirty feet over him, and thought he ’d go to sleep. deep; they go to the bottom, and pick up That ’s a nice way to sleep,—have your all sorts of insects and little critters. They boat at anchor, and it ‘Il rock ye like a pick young mussels off the rocks, and cradle, only ye must be careful a storm swaller ’em whole, shell and all, and grind don’t come up all of a sudden and rock

em up in their gizzards.” ye over. Ye can wind yer line around yer “Do they catch fish?” wrist, so’s’t if a cod does come and give “No; loons ketch fish, but ducks and it a yank, you “ll wake up. That ’s the coots don’t. A loon has got short wings way my father did. And he ’d had a nice that help him swim under water,—or fly long nap, when all at oncet—yank:! under water, for that’s what it is. He Il go suthin’ had holt. Off went the tarpaulin, faster °n some fishes. But he can’t walk; and up he jumped, and he thought he ’d and he can’t rise on the wing very well. got a whopper, by the way it run off with He has to flop along the water, against the _ his line. But before he ’d begun to pull, the

wind, a little while, fore he can rise. He line slacked, as if nothin’ was on it; and can’t rise goin’ with the wind, any more ’n the next minute up come a loon close a kite can; and sometimes, when he lights alongside the boat, and looked at him, and in a small pond, he ’s pestered to git out my father looked at the loon, and thought at all. I ketched one in Bemis’s pond last he noticed suthin’ queer hanging’ out of Spring. He was just as well and spry as his bill. Then the loon dove, and then my any loon ye ever see, but there was n’t father felt a whopper on his line ag’in, and room for him to git a good start, and no _ he began to pull, and, by sixty! if he did n’t

BASS COVE SKETCHES—OFF TO THE ISLAND 237 pull up that loon and bring him into the so, we can’t shoot very well from the boat,

boat! He had dove I don’t know how and I guess we ’d better land.” many fathom for the bait, and got hooked Landing was easy under the lee of the

jest like a fish.” island, and the boat was hauled up on “That zs a good story!” said Mr. Bonwig, the beach. Then Joe set out to guide who had a sportsman’s relish for such his friend to the best point for getting a things. “What makes folks say crazy as a__ shot.

loon?” “There!” said he, stopping suddenly near “I d’n’ know,” Joe replied, “without it’s the summit of a ledge, “ye can see ’em ‘cause they holler so. Did n’t ye never hear down there, about three rods from shore. a loon holler? Yo ’d think ’t was a crazy Don’t stir, for if they see us we shall lose feller, if ye did n’t know. I s’pose loonatics em.”

are named after ’em.” “But we must get nearer than this!” said “Not exactly,” said Mr. Bonwig. “Luna- Mr. Bonwig, “for even my gun wont do tics are named after Luna; that’s the Latin execution at this distance.” name for the moon, which affects people’s “Don’t you know?” Joe said. “They ’re

brains, sometimes.” feedin’, When you come acrost a flock of “IT would n’t give much for such brains!” coots feedin’ like that, you ’ll notice they

said Joe, contemptuously. “Moon never all dive together, and stay under water as hurt mine none!” Hence he argued that much as a minute; then they all come up his own were of a superior quality. “You to breathe agin. Now, when they dive, must have been to school to learn so much _ do as I do. There goes one down! there Latin!” he said, regarding Mr. Bonwig they all go! Now!” cried Joe.

with fresh admiration. He clambered over the ledge as nimbly Augustus nodded with dignity. as a lad could very well do, with an old

“What ’s the Latin for dory?” Joe asked, “Queen’s-arm” in each hand, and ran thinking he would begin at once to acquire down rapidly toward the shore, off which

that useful language. the water-fowl were feeding. He was light Augustus was obliged to own that he of foot, and familiar with every rock. Not did n’t know. Thereupon Joe’s admiration so Mr. Augustus Bonwig: he was very

changed to contempt. heavy of foot, and unacquainted with the “What ’s the use of Latin,” said he, “if rocks. ye can’t tell the Latin for dory?” And Mr. “Bl-e-hess_ m-y-hy hea-ah-rt!” he exBonwig was sorry he had not said doribus, claimed, jolting his voice terribly, as he and so have still retained a hold upon Joe’s followed Joe down the steep, rough way.

respect. “Here! quick!” cried Joe, dropping be“Why do folks say silly coot?” he asked, hind another ledge.

to change the subject. Poor Mr. Bonwig plunged like a por“Wal, a coot zs a silly bird—jest like some poise, and tumbled with a groan at the folks,” said Joe. “Sometimes you may shoot _ boy’s side.

one out of a flock, and the rest will fly “Flat! flat!” whispered Joe. right up to you, or jest stay right around, “I can’t make myself any flatter!” panted till you ’ve killed ’em all.” Augustus Augustus, pressing his corpulence close to thought he would like to fall in with such the ground. “I ’ve scraped off two buta flock. “There ’s some now!” said Joe. tons, and skinned my shins, already.” “They ’re goin’ to the island. The sea runs “You a’nt quite so flat as a flapjack, be

238 J. T. TROWBRIDGE yer” said Joe. “Never mind. We ’re all at some birds which, sure enough, had right.” He peeped cautiously over the been left behind out of the flock. ledge, cap in hand. “There comes one of “By sixty!” grumbled Joe, “you come ‘em up agin! There they all come! Now perty nigh savin’ me! Your shot peppered look; be careful!” Bonwig put up his head. these rocks—I could hear ’em scatter like “Next time they go down we ’ll run for _ peas!”

them big rocks close by the shore; then “Do you mean to say,” cried Bonwig,

we shall be near enough.” “that I did n’t kill those ducks?”

“Is that the way you do? Well, I am “All I mean to say is, they are the ones I surprised!” said Bonwig. “As your father fired at,” said Joe, “antl I seen ’em turn

said, it requires a knack.” and drop ‘fore ever you fired. Your gun “There they go!” cried Joe, and started did n’t carry to the water at all. I’ll show to run. Augustus started too, but stumbled _ ye.”

on some stones and fell. When with diff- Joe began to hunt, and had soon picked culty he had regained his feet, Joe was safe up a number of shots of the size used by in the shelter of the rocks, and the birds _ his friend Bonwig.

were coming to the surface again. It re- “Bless my heart! Now I am surprised! quired no very fine eyesight to see Mr.Bon- The wind must have blown them back!” wig; he was, in fact, a quite conspicuous said Augustus.

object, clumsily running down the craggy “Té that ’s the case,” muttered Joe, “I slope, with both arms extended,—the bet- shall look out how I git tween you and the

ter to preserve his balance, I suppose, wind another time! By sixty! ye might although they gave him the appearance of have filled me as full of holes as a nutmega man making unwieldy and futile efforts grater! And I rather guess there ’s nicer

to fly. The coots saw him, and rose at sounds in the world than to have two big

once upon the wing. charges o’ shot come rattlin’ about your “Bang!” “Bang!” spoke Joe’s old flint- ears that fashion!” And he rubbed his locks, one after the other; for, having fired’ ears, as if to make sure that they were the first as the flock started, he dropped all right. that and leveled and fired the second, al- “Well, well, well!” said the wondering most before the last bird had cleared the Augustus, picking up more shot. “I am—

surface of the water. surprised aint the word: I ’m astonished! “Bang! bang!” answered Bonwig’s Well, well, well!” smart two-barreled piece from the hill- “You wait here,” said Joe, “while I hurry side; and the startled Joe had the pleasure and pick up them coots. There ’s an eddy of hearing a shower of shot rattle on the of wind takin’ ’em right out to sea.”

rocks all around him. The enthusiastic He disappeared, and soon Mr. Bonwig sportsman, seeing the coots rise and Joe saw him paddling around the curve of fire, and thinking this his only chance at the shore in his dory. Having taken the them, had let off his barrel at a dozen rods, coots out of the water, he brought them as he would very likely have done at a to land, and showed them to the admiring quarter of a mile, so great was his excite- Augustus.

ment on the occasion. “Now which way?” said the sportsman, He came running down to the shore. filled with fresh zeal, “for I ’m bound to “Hello! hel-lo!” said he, “I ’ve saved these! have luck next time.”

look there!” And he pointed triumphantly “We ’ll haul the dory up here, and go

BASS COVE SKETCHES—OFF TO THE ISLAND 239 over on the other side of the island, and in the night, and the next mornin’ we see what we can find there,” said Joe. could see her, bows up, on the reef yender, “What a desolate place this is!” said Mr. where the tide had left her; but the sea Bonwig, as they crossed the bleak ledges. was so rough there was no gittin’ at her in

“All rocks and stones; not a tree, not a_ boats, and the next night she broke up, bush even; only here and there a little and the day after nary spar of her was to patch of grass!” He struck a schoolboy’s _ be seen, except the pieces of the wreck that

attitude, on one of the topmost ledges, begun to come ashore to the mainland,

and began to declaim: along ‘ith the dead bodies. About half the “Pm monarch of all I survey, crew was drowned; the rest managed to My right there is none to dispute; git to the island, but there wa’ n’t no house From the center all round to the sea, here then, and they ’most froze to death,

I’m lord of the —’ for it was Winter, and awful cold. Since

Plenty of fowls, but there don’t seem to be _ then this little hut has been tucked in here

any brutes here,” he commented, as he among the rocks, where the wind can’t

came down from his elevation. very well git at it, to blow it away; and “Guess ye learnt that to school, too, come when ye will, Summer or Winter,

did n’t ye?” said Joe. you ll always find straw in the bunks, and “Young friend, I did,” said Augustus. wood in the box, and matches in a tin And he proceeded to apostrophize the salt case, and a barrel of hard bread, and a

water : cask of fresh water. Only the wood and

“Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, hard bread are apt to git used up perty

roll!. close, sometimes. You see, fellers that come

Ten thousand——’ off here a-fishin’ know about it, and so Thunder and blazes! who ’d have thought when they git hungry, they pull ashore that rock was so slippery?” he said, finding with their fish, and come to the house to himself suddenly and quite unexpectedly make a chowder. But I would n't,” said Joe,

in a sitting posture. “Speaking of fleets, assuming a highly moral tone, “without

what are all those sails, Joe?” there was a barrel chock full of crackers!

“Fishermen. Sometimes for days you For, s’pose a ship should be wrecked, and won't see scarcely one; then there Il come the crew and passengers should git ashore a mornin’ with a fair wind, like this, and here, wet and hungry and cold, and should

they ‘Il all put out of port together.” find the house, and the box where the “Hello! Ael-lo!” said Augustus. “Who wood should be, and the barrel where the ever expected to see a house on this island? crackers should be, and there should n't

What little building is that?” be neither wood nor crackers, on account “It ’s one of the Humane Society’s of some plaguy fellers and their chowder! houses; house of refuge they call it. They No, by sixty!” said Joe, “I would n’t be so have ’em scattered along the coast where mean!”

ships are most likely to be wrecked and “It looks naked and gloomy enough in

there ’s no other shelter handy.” here!” said Augustus, as they entered. “Nobody lives in it, of course?” “It would n’t seem so bad, though, to “I guess not, if they can help it,” said wet and hungry sailors, some wild night Joe. “But more ’n one good ship has gone in Janewary, after they ’d been cast away,”

to pieces on this island. I remember one said Joe. “Just imagine ’em crawlin’ in that struck here eight year ago. She struck here out of the rain and cold, and startin’

240 J. T. TROWBRIDGE up a good, nice fire in the chimbly, and “I ’ll be Crusoe, and you may be t’ other settin’ down afore it, eatin’ the crackers!” fellow.”

“How are the provisions supplied?” “And we ’ll shoot ducks for a livin’!” “Oh, one of the Humane Society’s boats said Friday. “Come on, Mr. Crusoe!”

comes around here once in a while, and They left the hut, and went in pursuit leaves things. I don’t believe but what it of game, little thinking that accident might would be fun to live here,” Joe added, soon compel them to commence living the

romantically, “like Robinson Crusoe and life that was so pleasant to joke about,

his Man Friday.” more in earnest than either dreamed of “Suppose we try itr” said Mr. Bonwig. doing now.

Pon FLAPJACK te i}; irl XS:

Hl wt by Carter Hamilton we x wn AY

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SSN igh N\\ /.AN a that our outfit, our horses, and mule, the Gayhw Mywere finest he had everand seen; thatgreat; we ourselves gods, wise very that he

loved the ground we trod on, and

only asked to stay with us forever. So he E turned one clean half-somersault stayed.

He nowhere, and landed plunk on Jinny, the mule, returned his compli-

his back at my feet. I said, “Flap- ments unopened, and told him what she jacks!” That ’s how he got his name. He thought of him by showing the under side was only an Indian’s cur, the forelornest of her off hind hoof and putting back her little waif of a lost puppy, with the most ears. But then, Jinny was the only aristobeautiful dogs’ eyes I have ever seen. He cratic person in camp, in her own opinion, scrambled to his feet and used his eyes— and you may take that for what it is worth.

ee. We that settled it for us. Without further She did n’t prejudice us against Flapjack. introduction, we offered him the remains Still, Brandt and I happened not to share

of our dinner. He accepted it with three Jinny’s opinion of herself. Brandt was gulps and then stood wagging his poor in the habit of remarking on seventeen

little tail, asking for more. separate and several occasions each day We were camping and trailing out in that “even fer a mule, Jinny is the low-

the Wind River Mountains—Brandt and downdest one I ever set eyes on.”

. [back of the Shoshone Indian Reserva- At the sight of her hoof, Flapjack made tion, and we had halted for dinner in a a ludicrous little duck with his head and small cafion in the shade of the rock wall came back to us, volubly explaining that, from whose summit Flapjack had tried “Of course, the mule being yours, don’t his little acrobatic stunt. Whether he came you know? she simply must be the very

from an Indian encampment near by, finest, sweetest-tempered animal in the which we had not seen, or was just plain world, don’t you know? and altogether lost and fending for himself alone in the above reproach, don’t you know?” That wilderness, we did not know. He told us won us completely. about fending for one’s self while he ate his And he never once reproached her for dinner, an’ that it was “an awful” hard anything she did—even when she kicked life and sometimes “very discouraging.” him into the river. He treated her with After dinner he told us that our scraps distant courtesy always, without so much were the very best food he had ever eaten; as a yap in her direction. And it was n't 241

242 CARTER HAMILTON because he was afraid of mules, either— felled a tree for backlog, and fixed things Brandt and I will deny that imputation generally to be comfortable, all under his against his valor to our dying day. Let a supervising eye. And when it was done,

strange mule or horse get in among ours, and the friendship fire lighted, he lay and Flapjack was a very lion of ferocity down before it as one of us and said, “This

until he had yapped him out of sight. is home.” “Think we ’d better look for their So we fished and were happy; and we camp?” I asked, putting the dishes into fished some more and were happier; and

Jinny’s pack. we fished more and more and were hap“What, the purp’s Injuns? Not much!” pier and happier every day. Do you under.

answered Brandt. “If they have n’t seen stand that feeling? If vou have known us, let ’em alone. An’ if they have—why, Wyoming camp-fires, you do. we 've got to wait proper introductions. J Sometimes we tramped to distant shores

move we hike.” of the lake, “so ’s not to git our own fish So we hiked, and Flapjack hiked with too eddicated,” Brandt explained, though

us. generally we fished at our camp from a We kept on our trail, if such it could be fallen forest monarch lying out over our

called: a trail which probably no white deep hole. We used much craft and al man but ourselves had ever set foot upon. most any kind of bait, and drew up mor We were bound for a little lake that we _ sters I do not dare to describe in cold print knew, crammed with the most innocent Brandt used to say, “Them fish is so biame fish on earth. No; I am not going to tell innercent, y’ could ketch um with a shoe.

you where. There are some things you button on a button-hook, if y’ had it must find out for yourself, if you are handy’—which I did n’t. And thus we game for it, just as we did; otherwise, you _ lived one blessed week of glorious days be-

don’t deserve to know. tween heavenly sleeps—that is, until the

After some ten days we arrived, with- day of the Great Catch. out either adventure or misadventure, at “Somethin’ comin’,”’ said Brandt one our happy fishing-ground, and made camp day, as he looked at the Great Catch laid on a little precipice at whose foot a deep, in a row in front of our tent.

dark pool lured monster and_ luscious “Supper!” I yelled.

rarities. “T don’t mean that. I mean somethin’,” In spite of his hard journey, little Flap- replied Brandt, meditatively. “Jevver nojack had improved amazingly as to health, tice that whenever y’ strike the Great not as to manners: for from the first day Catch somethin’ comes right bang top of it

we knew him, he had better manners to take y’ down? Every time an’ every than any other dog I ever met. If you time it’s so. That ’s what I mean. I bet it ’s flung him a crust, he so appreciated it— Injuns—seem to sense it that way—lInit was the very nicest crust, the daintiest juns.” morsel, one could have; just as everything “I seem to sense it that we ’ve got to we did was simply perfect in his eyes. clean those fish before it gets dark, and fry And he was n’t servile about it, either. them, and eat them,” I said. “Do we pack He simply approved of everything we did, the water up or the fish down?” and told us so in an eloquent, dumb way “Water up, I guess,” said Brandt, proud-

of his own. ly looking on the Great Catch. “A blame’ We made camp for a two weeks’ stay; __ sight less to pack, er I’m a sinner. Hang

| FLAPJ ACK 243 um on a string an’ souse um off the log, At the word Brandt’s canvas bucket

after.” hurtled through the air and landed guush! So Brandt with one canvas bucket and_ on a big, “silver-tip” grizzly’s nose.

the agate kettle, and I with the other The grizzly said, “Woofsh-spshpts!” bucket and the coffee-pot, meandered very loud. down our little trail to the water’s edge, The bucket was Flapjack’s cue to go on and dipped our household supply. We with his part, and he did. He went after

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were gone, all told, twenty minutes. the bucket with a wild “Yee-ap!” and a Brandt was in the lead, Flapjack at my flying leap, and landed somewhere in the

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“The grizaly disappeared into the brush squealing, with Flapjack yee-ap-yapping at his heels!

heel, for he superintended all the camp neighborhood of the spot just vacated by

operations, meal-time being his great op- the bucket.

portunity. The grizzly emitted something between There were two high rock-steps at the a shriek and a groan, bounded up like a end of our path that brought us up to our rubber-ball, cleared the top level at one

level. Flapjack ran around through the jump, and disappeared into the brush brush by a trail of his own to meet us at squealing, with Flapjack yee-ap-yapping the top. Brandt stepped over; I followed. at his heels! Jumpin’ giraffes!” Brandt exclaimed. We heard the bushes crackle and crash

rears ° . , °

At that instant I saw our last fish dis- while old Silver Tip ran and squealed. appear into a great red mouth in one end We heard little Flapjack yee-ap-yapping of a brush-pile, and the mouth. said, his views on bear in general and big ones

Woof! In particular. The echoes ceased and the

244 CARTER HAMILTON sounds frew fainter, and fainter—and equal and the campfire brother that he fainter—and were swallowed up by the was.

great silences. “Silver Tip “ll be back to-morrow,” I “Well, I never!” groaned Brandt at last, remarked.

looking ruefully at the revolver in his “No-py,” replied Brandt. “Don’t you hand. “Such a chance spoilt by a purp— guess it. This time to-morrow mornin’

a plain, stump-tail Injun purp!” he ’Il strike Yallastone Park, an’ this time “Plucky, though, was n’t itP” to-morrow night he ’Il be over in Montana “Plucky! If y’ call it plucky to run after visitin’ his aunt in the country. If y’ want a thing when y’ don’t know what it is an’ Aim you ’ll have to take an express-train—

jest throw yerself at its head till y’ find an’ y’ won’t ketch him then. He ’Il hike out! But he won out, all the same!” added over three States fore he stops. I know Brandt. “Yes, siree, he won out—on sheer bears—they ain’t coyotes. Flappie, what pluck! What ’d I tell y’? "T was n’t Injuns, d’ ye think about it?”

but it sure was something—the whole Flapjack replied that he agreed with catch o’ fish is gone—we Il have pork fer Brandt absolutely, that he, too, knew bears

supper.” “tremenjous well,” and he did a great deal “I’m thinking of Flapjack,” I said. of tail-wagging to prove it. “’Fraid he ’s done for by this, poor little So I took their word for it—two against

fellow.” one--and smoked in silence, pondering the “Oh, he ’ll be back to supper,” replied great event. For it was an event to me at Brandt, confidently; and an hour later, that time—my first sight of Silver Tip in tongue lolling, tail erect, Flapjack saun- his native wilderness. Those were the

tered into camp. early days of Wyoming camp-fires for me, Proud of himself? Well, rather! So were and I had then seen very little of the larger

we, and we told him so. He went from game. one to the other of us, offering his con- But—even though two against one— gratulations on our having such a speedy they were wrong, and in this wise it all dog in camp with us: “Bears? Pooh! happened five days later. What are grizzly bears? You don’t have We had gone to our second pool three to be such a very brave dog to drive them miles up-shore, and had made a good off! Pooh! Do it again any time you say!” catch—mine was very good. It was my turn

—that sort of talk, you know. For a few to do chores, and Brandt was after “one minutes we were just a bit afraid he was great whale.” I have noticed that Brandt looking down on us for a couple of softies always is after “one great whale” when-

—we had n’t jumped at a grizzly and ever my catch is better than his. So he boxed his ears! But no; he was much too _ stayed out and I went back to camp, perfine a gentleman for that. We had fed sonally conducted by Flapjack, a string of him when he was hungry, and we were _ lesser whales in my hand. just as good as he was—oh, every whit!— = And I almost ran into Silver Tip beeven if we had n’t driven old Silver Tip fore I saw him—for Silver Tip was in the across the landscape squealing like a pig! tent! He had already munched the camera

He made us feel perfectly at ease with and a few other trifles of like sort, and him, and when supper-time came he was at the moment supping on my last quietly laid aside his glory with a “let ’s film (all the views of the trip!), which

forget it” air and ate with us like an hung out of his mouth and curled

FLAPJACK 245 about like a live ribbon while he clawed dropped me to settle Flapjack, and I fired

it. my third shot. It ripped along his muzzle, Silver Tip said, “Wo-o-of!” and struck and bedded itself in his jaw. The roar he out with his paw—at the film, probably, gave frightened me so that it literally fired though I thought he was striking at me. my revolver! That bullet became part of

Anyhow, he struck out—I saw that. I the landscape. struck out with the fish in my hand, “Two shots more!” flashed across my and hit him swat on the side of the mind; “and two more such shots and it ’s head! That started it—he knew what I pussy-in-the-corner till I die.”

was. Bruin was crazy, now, with rage and

I dropped the fish I was carrying and pain. Self-control was not one of his virjumped, pulling my six-shooter. With one tues. For two seconds Flapjack held the bound he was out of the tent after me. field. I repeated my triangle trick in that The next instant I found myself playing two seconds and with a quick start, ran hide-and-seek with him around a big tree, between two trees, bolted for the open, to the tune of “Woof-woof!”—and of “Yap- and turned.

yap-yap-yee-ap!” from Flapjack. But I had miscalculated the bear’s disI am not sure but at this stage of the tance, or his speed. As I turned to shoot game Silver Tip thought he was as much he rose to his feet almost over me, a moun-

pursued as pursuing, and that if I had tain of sudden death.

given him time and a fair chance, he And then little Flapjack did his great would have changed his mind about me, act—took one wild, flying leap plump into and decided I was n’t worth it. But I Bruin’s chest, and fell flat on his own back. did n’t. Something kept saying in my ear, He recovered in a second—but a second

“Shoot! Shoot!” too late. The mountain dropped on allI had a dim sort of realization that I fours; a huge paw swung out, and little

could n’t shoot over my head or behind my Flapjack went through the air like a shut-

back or under my feet, and take flying tlecock. leaps at the same time about a tree. So I That one second saved my life. The bear, bolted for the next tree, meaning to turn with head down, faced me. I fired. The there and shoot. As I did so, Flapjack shot took him clean between the eyes. His dashed from behind Bruin and nipped him great hulk lurched forward and literally in the flank. That distraction gave me one fell on my feet.

extra second and my chance. I fired and I have no idea how long I stood there struck him amidships. Bruin turned and afterward, stock-still, turned to stone. ] snapped viciously at his wound. On that, seemed to be waiting for Flapjack to do his

Flapjack nipped his ear. I fired a second act again—take a flying leap and sing,

time, but only grazed him. “Yee-ap-ap!” 1 listened and listened for

He rushed me then so that I bolted to the “yee-ap-yap,” but heard only a muffled the next tree, then across the Open space thud, thud, thud, thud—my own heart. IJ to the third. I gained time by this; I knew wondered why, and why, and why he what I was going to do, and Bruin didn’t. did n’t come to congratulate me on the I say time—it was probably three seconds. victory—our victory. Around me lay As he came at me, Flapjack dashed back the soft silence of the forest, at my feet and forth between us, yapping and pirouet- the huge prowler that had just meant ting just out of reach. Bruin felt annoyed, death.

246 CARTER HAMILTON Then, on a sudden, I heard a piteous friend; do you know it? You won out!” little moan, and I came to myself—and I He tried to rise, but he was past rising

understood everything. ever again.

twenty feet away. ——

I found him at the foot of a giant pine, “Good-by, brave heart!” I said.

I fell on my knees beside him. If, some day, you should find a promon“Flapjack, little dog!” I cried out. tory by a lonely Wyoming lake; find a And his beautiful, pain-filled eyes looked giant pine-tree and a pile of stone beneath;

into mine and said, “If you ’re all right, find on the great trunk a smooth-cut slab, that ’s all I care for!” and his little tongue and read the burnt-in letters,

feebly lapped my hand. FLAPJACK, Aus. 9, 1897,

“Oh, dear little dog,” I said; “you have given your life for mine. Bravest, truest don’t laugh, please; you ’ll know what it

heart in all the world! You saved your means.

by Laura Ingalls Wilder

or a week Father and Mother were swallow breakfast. And after that there

f getting ready to go, and every day were so many last things to do that it

they thought of new things that must seemed Father and Mother never would not be forgotten while they were away. At get away.

last the day came when they were going, But just as the sun was rising Father

and everyone was up early. drove to the door in the buggy, and Royal Mother flew around faster than ever and put the bag under the seat and Mother Father moved more deliberately. They climbed in, talking all the while.

were both excited, and so were the chil- “Be sure you gather the eggs every dren, although Eliza Jane and Royal, be- night,” she said, “and I depend on you, ing older, did not scurry about as much Eliza Jane, to take care of the churning. as Alice and Almanzo, who could hardly Don’t salt the butter too much, pack it

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