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.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 42066
   :PG.Title: The Young Marooners on the Florida Coast
   :PG.Released: 2013-02-10
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: \F. \R. Goulding
   :DC.Title: The Young Marooners on the Florida Coast
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1887
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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THE YOUNG MAROONERS ON THE FLORIDA COAST
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      Cover

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   .. _`"Hallo!" cried Harold, his own voice husky with emotion`:

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      :alt: "Hallo!" cried Harold, his own voice husky with emotion . . . Frontispiece

      "Hallo!" cried Harold, his own voice husky with emotion . . . Frontispiece

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      THE
      YOUNG MAROONERS ON
      THE FLORIDA COAST

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      BY
      F. R. GOULDING

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      WITH INTRODUCTION BY
      JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS
      (Uncle Remus)

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      ILLUSTRATED

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      NEW YORK
      DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
      1927

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      COPYRIGHT, 1862
      BY F. R. GOULDING

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      COPYRIGHT, 1881
      BY F. R. GOULDING

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      COPYRIGHT, 1887
      BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY

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      PRINTED IN U. S. A.

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   INTRODUCTION

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I have been asked to furnish an introduction for a
new edition of "The Young Marooners."  As an
introduction is unnecessary, the writing of it must be to
some extent perfunctory.  The book is known in many
lands and languages.  It has survived its own success,
and has entered into literature.  It has become a classic.
The young marooners themselves have reached middle
age, and some of them have passed away, but their
adventures are as fresh and as entertaining as ever.

Dr. Goulding's work possesses all the elements of
enduring popularity.  It has the strength and vigour of
simplicity; its narrative flows continuously forward; its
incidents are strange and thrilling, and underneath all
is a moral purpose sanely put.

The author himself was surprised at the great popularity
of his story, and has written a history of its origin
as a preface.  The internal evidence is that the book is
not the result of literary ambition, but of a strong
desire to instruct and amuse his own children, and the story
is so deftly written that the instruction is a definite
part of the narrative.  The art here may be unconscious,
but it is a very fine art nevertheless.

Dr. Goulding lived a busy life.  He had the restless
missionary spirit which he inherited from the Puritans
of Dorchester, England, who established themselves in
Dorchester, South Carolina, and in Dorchester, Georgia,
before the Revolutionary War.  Devoting his life to good
works, he nevertheless found time to indulge his literary
faculty; he also found time to indulge his taste for
mechanical invention.  He invented the first sewing-machine
that was ever put in practical use in the South.
His family were using this machine a year before the
Howe patents were issued.  In his journal of that date
(1845) he writes: "Having satisfied myself about my
machine, I laid it aside that I might attend to other and
weightier duties."  He applied for no patent.

"The Young Marooners" was begun in 1847, continued
in a desultory way, and completed in 1850.  Its first
title was a quaint one, "Bobbins and Cruisers
Company."  It was afterward called "Robert and Harold;
or, the Young Marooners."  The history of the
manuscript of the book is an interesting parallel to that of
many other successful books.  After having been
positively declined in New York, it was for months left in
Philadelphia, where one night, as the gentleman whose
duty it was to pass judgment upon the material offered
had begun in a listless way his task, he became so much
absorbed in the story that he did not lay it down until
long after midnight, and hastening to the publishers early
next morning, insisted that it should be immediately put
into print.  Three editions were issued in the first year,
and it was soon reprinted in England by Nisbet & Co., of
London, followed by five other houses in England and
Scotland at later dates.

Dr. Goulding was the author of "Little Josephine,"
published in Philadelphia (1848); "The Young Marooners"
(1852); "Confederate Soldiers' Hymn-Book,"
a compilation (1863); "Marooner's Island," an
independent sequel to "Young Marooners" (1868); "Frank
Gordon; or, When I was Little Boy" (1869), and "The
Woodruff Stories" (1870).  With the exception of
"Little Josephine" and the "Hymn-Book," they have
all been republished abroad.  Born near Midway,
Liberty County, Georgia, September 28th, 1810, he died
August 21st, 1881, and is buried in the little churchyard
at Roswell, Georgia.

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   JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS.

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   THE HISTORY OF THIS BOOK

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In a vine-covered piazza of the sunny South, a
company of boys and girls used to gather round me, of a
summer evening, to hear the varied story of my early
years. As these boys and girls grew larger, I found it
necessary to change my plan of instruction. There were
many *facts in nature* which I wished to communicate,
and many *expedients* in practical life, which I supposed
might be useful. To give this information, in such shape
as to insure its being remembered, required a story. The
result has been a book; and that book is "The Young
Marooners"--or, as my young folks call it, "Robert and
Harold."

Their interest in the story has steadily increased from
the beginning to the end; and sure am I, that if it excites
one-half as much abroad, as it has excited at home, no
author need ask for more.

The story, however, is not all a story; the fiction
consists mostly in the putting together. With very few
exceptions, the incidents are real occurrences; and
whoever will visit the regions described, will see that the
pictures correspond to nature. Possibly also, the visitor
may meet even now, with a fearless Harold, an intelligent
Robert, a womanly Mary, and a merry Frank.

Should my young readers ever go *marooning*, I trust
their party may meet with fewer misfortunes and as
happy a termination.

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   \F. \R. \G.

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   CONTENTS

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   CHAPTER

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`I`_  The Company and Their Embarkation

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`II`_  Mother Carey's Chickens--Fishing for
Trout--Saw-Fish--Frank and the
Shark--Looming--Tom Starboard--The
Nautilus--Arrival at Tampa

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`III`_  Tampa Bay--Bellevue--Unloading--A
Dangerous Cut--How to Stop a Bleeding
Artery--Tom Starboard Again

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`IV`_  Confusion--Housekeeping in a Hurry--First
Night on Shore--Company to
Dinner--"Blue Eyed Mary"--Robert at
Prayer-Meeting--Danger of Descending
an Old Well--Recovering a Knife
Dropped in a Well

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`V`_  Riley--A Thunderstorm--Ascertaining
the Distance of Objects by Sound--Security
Against Lightning--Means of
Recovering Life from Apparent Death
by Lightning

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`VI`_  The Only Way to Study--Taking Cold--Riley's
Family--The Hare Lip--Fishing
for Sheephead--Frank Choked
with a Fish Bone--His Relief--His
Story of the Sheep's Head and
Dumplings--"Till the Warfare is Over"

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`VII`_  Bug in the Ear--Visit to Fort
Brooke--Evading Blood-Hounds--Contest with
Dogs and Means of Defence--Amusing
Escape from a Wild Bull and
Conversation on the Subject

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`VIII`_  Marooning and the Marooning Party

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`IX`_  Embarkation--Abduction Extraordinary--Efforts
to Escape--Alternative
Hopes and Fears--Despair--Vessel in
the Distance--Renewed Hopes and
Efforts--Water-Spout--Flash of
Lightning and its Effects--Making for
Shore--Grateful Acknowledgments

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`X`_  Waking Up--Good Resolutions--Alarm--Marooning
Breakfast--Search for
Water--Unexpected Gain--Oyster
Bank--Fate of a Raccoon--The Plume and Fan

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`XI`_  Discussion Of Plans--Doubts--Differences
of Opinion--What Was Agreed
Upon--Baking a Turkey Without an
Oven--Flying Signal

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`XII`_  Results of the Cookery--Voyage--Appearance
of the Country--Orange
Trees--The Bitter Sweet--Rattlesnake--Usual
Signs for Distinguishing
a Fanged And Poisonous Serpent--Various
Methods of Treating a Snake Bite--Return

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`XIII`_  Disappointment--The Live Oak--Unloading--Fishing
Excursion--Harold's Still
Hunt--Disagreeable Means to an Agreeable End

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`XIV`_  Frank's Excuses--Curing Venison--Marooning
Cookery--Robert's Vegetable
Garden--Plans for Return--Preparation
for the Sabbath

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`XV`_  Their First Sabbath on the Island, and
the Night and Morning that succeeded

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`XVI`_  A Sad Breakfast--Sagacity of Dogs--Search
for the Boat--Exciting Adventure--A
Pretty Pet--Unexpected Intelligence

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`XVII`_  Mary and Frank--Examination of the
Tent--Smoke Signal--Devices--Brute
Messenger--Raft--Blazing the
Trees--Voyage--Disastrous Expedition--News
from Home--Return to the Tent

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`XVIII`_  Night Landing--Carrying a Wounded
Person--Setting One's Own Limbs
when Broken--Splinting a Limb--Rest
to the Weary

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`XIX`_  The Surprise and Disappointment--Naming
the Fawn--Sam's Story--Depression
After Excitement--Great Misfortune

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`XX`_  Speculations and Resolves--Fishing--Inventory
of Goods and Chattels--Roasted
Fish--Palmetto Cabbage--Tour--Sea-Shells,
Their Uses--The Pelican--Nature
of the Country--Still Hunting--Wild
Turkeys Again--Work on the Tent

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`XXI`_  Rainy Day--The Kitchen and Fire--Hunting the Opossum

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`XXII`_  Frank and His "Pigs"--The Cage--Walk
on the Beach--Immense Crawfish--The Museum--Naming the Island

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`XXIII`_  Their Second Sabbath on the Island,
and the Way They Spent It

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`XXIV`_  Mote in the Eye, and How It Was
Removed--Conch Trumpet and Signals--Tramp--Alarm

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`XXV`_  A Hunter's Misfortune--Relief to a
Sprain--How to Avoid Being Lost in
the Woods, and to Recover One's
Course After being Lost--A Still Hunt

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`XXVI`_  Crutches in Demand--Curing
Venison--Pemmican--Scalding Off a Porker's
Hair with Leaves and Water--Turkey
Trough--Solitary Watching--Force of
Imagination--Fearful Encounter--Different
Modes of Repelling Wild Beasts

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`XXVII`_  Turkey-Pen--Sucking Water Through
Oozy Sand--Exploring Tour--Appearance
of the Country--"Madame Bruin"--Soldier's
Remedy for Chafed Feet--Night
in the Woods--Prairie--Indian
Hut--Fruit Trees--Singular Spring

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`XXVIII`_  Plans--Visit to the Prairie--Discoveries--Shoe
Making--Waterfowl

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`XXIX`_  Removal to the Prairie--Night
Robbery--Fold--Dangerous Trap--Mysterious
Signals--Bitter Disappointment

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`XXX`_  Best Cure for Unavailing Sorrow--Mary's
Adventure with a Bear--Novel
Defence--Protecting the Tent

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`XXXI`_  Hard Work--Labour-Saving Device--Discovery
as to the Time of the Year--Schemes
For Amusement--Tides on the
Florida Coast

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`XXXII`_  Christmas Morning--Voyage--Valuable
Discovery--Hostile Invasion--Robbery--Masterly
Retreat--Battle at Last--A
Quarrel Requires Two Quarrellers--The Ghost's Visit

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`XXXIII`_  The Cubs--Voyage to the
Wreck--Stores--Horrid Sights--Trying
Predicament--Prizes--Return--Frank
Needs Another Lecture

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`XXXIV`_ Second Voyage to the Wreck--Fumigating
Again--More Minute Examination--Return--Accident--Dangers of
Helping A Drowning Person--Recovering a
Person Apparently Drowned

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`XXXV`_  Household Arrangements--Third Visit
to the Wreck--Rainy Weather--Agreement
About Work--Mary in Great
Danger--Extinguishing Fire on One's
Dress--Relief to a Burn--Conversation

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`XXXVI`_  Successful Work--Excursion--The
Fish-Eagle--Different Methods of
Procuring Fire--Woodsman's Shelter Against
Rain and Hail--Novel Refuge from
Falling Trees

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`XXXVII`_  Launching the Boats--More Work, and
Yet More--Eclipse of Feb. 12th, 1831--Healing
By "First Intention"--Frank's
Birthday--Preparing for a Voyage--Rain, Rain

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`XXXVIII`_  Voyage Round the Island--The Lost
Boat--Strange Signals Again--Hurricane--Night
March--Helpless Vessel--Melancholy
Fate--The Rescue--Marooners'
Hospitality--Conclusion

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   ILLUSTRATIONS

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`"Hallo!" cried Harold, his own voice husky with
emotion`_ . . . *Frontispiece*

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`The company went together to the sea shore and planted the signal`_

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`Deliberately taking aim, he discharged the whole load of bullets
between the creature's eyes`_

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`They were not two hours in reaching the proposed landing place`_

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.. _`I`:

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   THE YOUNG MAROONERS

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   CHAPTER I

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   THE COMPANY AND THEIR EMBARKATION

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On Saturday, the 21st of August, 1830, a small
but beautiful brig left the harbour of
Charleston, South Carolina, bound for Tampa
Bay, Florida.  On board were nine passengers;
Dr. Gordon, his three children, Robert, Mary, and Frank;
his sister's son, Harold McIntosh, and four servants.

Dr. Gordon was a wealthy physician, who resided,
during the winter, upon the seaboard of Georgia, and
during the summer upon a farm in the mountains of
that beautifully varied and thriving State.  His wife
was a Carolinian, from the neighbourhood of Charleston.
Anna Gordon, his sister, married a Col. McIntosh,
who, after residing for twelve years upon a plantation
near the city of Montgomery, in Alabama, died, leaving
his widow with three children, and an encumbered estate.
Soon after her widowhood, Dr. Gordon paid her a visit,
for the two-fold purpose of condolence and of aiding in
the settlement of her affairs.  She was so greatly pleased
with the gentlemanly bearing and the decided intelligence
of Robert, who on this occasion accompanied his
father, that she requested the privilege of placing her
son Harold under her brother's care, until some other
arrangement could be made for his education.  Dr. Gordon
was equally prepossessed with the frank manners
and manly aspect of his nephew, and it was with peculiar
pleasure that he acceded to the request.  Harold had
been with his uncle about a month previous to the period
at which this history begins.

Mrs. Gordon was a woman of warm affections and
cultivated mind, but of feeble constitution.  She had
been the mother of five children; but, during the
infancy of the last, her health exhibited so many signs of
decay as to convince her husband that the only hope
of saving her life was to seek for her, during the
ensuing winter, a climate even more bland than that in
which she had spent her girlhood.

Tampa Bay is a military post of the United States.
Dr. Gordon had formerly visited it, and was so delighted
with its soft Italian climate, and with the wild beauty
of its shores, that he had even then purchased a choice
lot in the vicinity of the fort, and ever after had looked
forward, almost with hope, to the time when he might
have some excuse for removing there.  That time had
now come.  And doubting not that the restorative
powers of the climate would exert a happy influence
upon his wife's health, he left her with her relatives,
while he went to Tampa for the purpose of preparing
a dwelling suitable for her reception.

The accompanying party was larger than he had at
first intended.  Robert and Harold were to go of course;
they were old enough to be his companions; and,
moreover, Harold had been sent by his mother for the express
purpose of enjoying that excellent *home education* which
had been so happily exhibited in Robert.  But on mature
reflection there appeared to Dr. Gordon special reasons
why he should also take his eldest daughter, Mary, who
was about eleven years of age, and his second son,
Frank, who was between seven and eight.  The
addition of these younger persons to the party, however,
did not cause him any anxiety, or any addition to the
number of his servants; for he and his wife, although
wealthy by inheritance, and accustomed all their lives
to the help of servants, had educated their children to
be as independent as possible of unnecessary help.
Indeed, Mary was qualified to be of great assistance; for
though only eleven years of age, she was an excellent
housekeeper, and during the indisposition of her mother
had presided with remarkable ability at her father's
table.  Little Frank was too young to be useful, but he
was an obedient, merry little fellow, a great pet with
everybody, and promised, by his cheerful good nature,
to add much to the enjoyment of the party; and as
to the care which he needed, Mary had only to
continue that motherly attention which she had been
accustomed already to bestow.

To say a word or two more of the youths; Robert
Gordon, now nearly fourteen years of age, had a great
thirst for knowledge.  Stimulated continually by the
instructive conversation of his father, who spared no pains
in his education, he drew rapidly from all the sources
opened to him by books, society, and nature.  His finely
developed mind was decidedly of a philosophic cast.
Partaking, however, of the delicate constitution of his
mother, he was oftentimes averse to those athletic
exercises which became his age, and by which he would have
been fitted for a more vigorous and useful manhood.

Harold McIntosh, a half year older than his cousin,
was, on the contrary, of a robust constitution and active
habit, with but little inclination for books.  Through the
inattention of a father, who seemed to care more for
manly daring than for intellectual culture, his education
had been sadly neglected.  The advantages afforded him
had been of an exceedingly irregular character, and his
only incentive to study had been the gratification of his
mother, whom he tenderly loved.  For years preceding
the change of his abode, a large portion of his leisure
time had been spent in visiting an old Indian of the
neighbourhood, by the name of Torgah, and gleaning
from him by conversation and practice, that knowledge
of wood-craft, which nothing but an Indian's experience
can furnish, and which usually possesses so romantic
a charm for Southern and Western (perhaps we may say
for American) boys.

The cousins had become very much attached.  Each
admired the other's excellencies, and envied the other's
accomplishments; and the parents had good reason to hope
that they would prove of decided benefit to each other
by mutual example.

Preparing for a winter's residence at such a place as
Tampa, where, with the exception of what was to be
obtained at the fort, they would be far removed from all
the comforts and appliances of civilized life, Dr. Gordon
was careful to take with him everything which could be
foreseen as needful.  Among these may be mentioned
the materials already framed for a small dwelling-house,
kitchen, and stable; ample stores of provisions, poultry,
goats (as being more convenient than cows), a pair of
horses, a buggy, and wagon, a large and beautiful
pleasure boat, books for reading, and for study, together with
such furniture as habit had made necessary to comfort.





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.. _`II`:

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   CHAPTER II

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   MOTHER CARY'S CHICKENS--FISHING FOR TROUT--SAW-FISH--FRANK
   AND THE SHARK---LOOMING---TOM STARBOARD--THE
   NAUTILUS--ARRIVAL AT TAMPA

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Mary and Frank were affected with sea sickness
shortly after entering the rough and rolling
water on the bar, and having, in consequence,
retired early to bed, they scarcely rose for six and thirty
hours.  Indeed, all the passengers, except Harold,
suffered in turn this usual inconvenience of persons
unaccustomed to the sea.

The only incident of interest that occurred during this
part of the voyage, was a fright received by Mary and
Frank.  It was as follows: Having partially recovered
from their indisposition, they were engaged with childish
glee in fishing from the stern windows.  Directly over
head hung the jolly boat, and beneath them the water
foamed and eddied round the rudder.  Mary was
fishing for Mother Cary's chickens--a species of "poultry"
well known to those who go to sea.  Her apparatus
consisted of a strong thread, twenty or thirty yards long,
having divers loops upon it, and baited at the end with
a little tuft of red.  She had not succeeded in taking
any; but one, more daring than the rest, had become
entangled in the thread, and Mary eagerly drew it
towards her, exclaiming, "I have caught it!  I have caught
it!"  Ere, however, she could bring it within arm's
length, the struggling bird had escaped.

Frank had obtained a large fish-hook, which he tied
to a piece of twine, and baited with some raw beef; and
he was fishing, he said, for *trout*.  A few minutes after
Mary's adventure with the bird, he saw a great fish, twice
as long as himself, having an enormous snout, set on
both sides with a multitude of sharp teeth, following in
the vessel's wake.  He drew himself quickly into the
window, exclaiming, "Look, sister, look!"  The fish did
not continue long to follow them.  It seemed to have
come on a voyage of curiosity, and having satisfied itself
that this great swimming monster, the vessel, was neither
whale nor kraken, it darted off and returned no more.

"I should not like to hook *that* fellow," said Frank,
"for I am sure I could not draw him in."

"No," replied Mary, "and I should not like to have
such an ugly fellow on board, if we could get him here."

"Ugh! what a long ugly nose he has," said Frank.  "I
wonder what he can do with such a nose, and with all
those teeth on the outside of it--only see, sister, *teeth on
his* NOSE!"

"I do not know," she answered, "but we can ask father
when we go on deck."

"I think his nose must be long to smell things a great
way off," conjectured Frank.

Thus they chatted until Mary called out, "See, Frank,
there is a black piece of wood sticking out of the water.
See how it floats after us!  No, it cannot be a piece of
wood, for it swims from side to side.  It must be a fish.
It is!  Draw in your head, Frank."

Unsuccessful in his trout fishing, Frank had attached
a red silk handkerchief to his line, and was amusing
himself with letting it down so as to touch along the water.
When Mary said "it is a fish," he espied an enormous
creature, much larger than the sawfish, swimming almost
under him, and looking up hungrily to the window where
they were.  A moment after it leaped directly towards
them.  Both screamed with terror, and Frank's wrist
was jerked so violently, and pained him so much, that he
was certain his hand had been bitten off.  He was about
to scream again; but looking down, he found his hand
was safe, and the next moment saw the fish swimming
away with the end of the handkerchief hanging from
its mouth.  The fish was a shark.  It had been attracted
probably by the smell of Frank's bait, and by the sight
of the red silk.  When he drew his handkerchief from
the water, the fish leaped after it, and jerked the twine
which had been wrapped around his wrist.  From that
time they ceased all fishing from the cabin windows.

The history of that fishing, however, was not yet ended.
On the day following the company were much interested
in watching a singular phenomenon, which is sometimes
visible at sea, though seldom in a latitude so low as
Florida.  The looming of the land had been remarkably
distinct and beautiful; at one time the land looked as if
lifted far above the water; at another the shore was seen
doubled, as if the water were a perfect reflector, and the
land and its shadow were united at the base.  But, on
the present occasion, the shadow appeared in the wrong
place--united to its substance, not at the base, but at
the top.  It was a most singular spectacle to behold trees
growing topsy-turvy, from land in the sky.

The sailors, as well as passengers, looked on with a
curiosity not unmixed with awe, and an old "salt" was
heard to mutter, as he ominously shook his head,

"I never seed the likes of that but something was sure
to come after.  Yes," he continued, looking sullenly at
Mary and Frank, "and yesterday, when I was at the
starn, I saw a chicken flutter in a string."

"A chicken, Tom?" inquired the captain, looking at
the little culprits.  "Ah, have any of my young friends
been troubling the sailor's pets?"

"No, sir," responded Frank, promptly and indignantly.
"We did not trouble anybody's chickens.  I
only went to the coop, and pulled the old drake's tail;
but I did that to make him look at the bread I brought him."

"I do not mean the chickens on board, but the chickens
that fly around us--Mother Cary's chickens," said the
captain, trying hard to smother down a laugh.  "Don't
you know that they all belong to the sailors; and that
whoever troubles them is sure to bring trouble on the ship?"

"No, sir," Frank persisted, evidently convinced that
the captain was trying to tease him.  "I did not know
that they belonged to anybody.  I thought that they
were all wild."

Mary, however, looked guilty.  She knew well the
sailor's superstition about the "chickens," but having
had at that time nothing to do, she had been urged on
by an irrepressible desire for fun, and until this moment
had imagined that her fishing was unnoticed.  She
timidly answered,

"I did not *catch* it, sir; I only tangled it in the thread,
and it got away before I touched it."

"Well, Tom," said the captain to the sailor, who
seemed to be in doubt after Frank's defence whether to
appear pleased or angry, "I think you will have to
forgive the offence this time, especially as the sharks took it
in hand so soon to revenge the insult, and ran away with
the little fellow's handkerchief."

Old Tom smiled grimly at the allusion to the shark;
for he had been sitting quietly in the jolly boat picking
rope, and had witnessed the whole adventure.

The wind, which had continued favourable ever since
they left Charleston, now gradually died away.  The
boatswain whistled often and shrilly to bring it back;
but it was like "calling spirits from the vasty deep."  The
sails hung listlessly down, and moved only as the
vessel rocked sluggishly upon the scarce undulating
surface.  The only circumstance which enlivened this scene
was the appearance of a nautilus, or Portuguese man-of-war.
Mary was the first to discern it.  She fancied that
it was a tiny toy boat, launched by some child on shore,
and wafted by the wind to this distant point.  It was
certainly a toy vessel, though one of nature's workmanship;
for there was the floating body corresponding to
the hull, there the living passenger, there the sails spread
or furled at will, and there the oars (Mary could see
them move) by which the little adventurer paddled
itself along.

The young people were very anxious to obtain it.
Frank went first to old Tom Starboard (as the sailor was
called who had scolded him and Mary, but who was now
on excellent terms with both) to ask whether they might
have the nautilus if they could catch it.

"Have the man-o'-war!" ejaculated the old man,
opening wide his eyes, "who ever heered of sich a thing?
O yes, have it, if you can get it; but how will you do
that?"

"Brother Robert and cousin Harold will row after it
and pick it up, if the captain will let them have his
boat."

Tom chuckled at the idea, and said he doubted not
the captain would let them have his boat, and be glad,
too, to see the fun.  Frank then went to the captain,
and told him that old Tom had given him leave to have
the man-of-war if he could get it; and that his brother
and cousin would go out and pick it up, if the captain
would let them have his boat.  With a good-natured
smile, he answered,

"You are perfectly welcome to the boat, my little
man; but if your brother and cousin catch that little
sailor out there, they will be much smarter than most
folks."

"Can they not pick it up?"

"Easily enough, if it will wait till they come.  But if
they do not wish to be hurt, they had better take a
basket or net for dipping it from the water."

Frank went finally to his father to obtain his consent,
which after a moment's hesitation was granted, the
doctor well knowing what the probable result would be, yet
pleased to afford them any innocent amusement by which
to enliven their voyage.

"Tom," said the captain, "lower away the jolly boat,
and do you go with these young gentlemen.  Row softly
as you can, and give them the best chance for getting
what they want."

The boat was soon alongside.  Old Tom slid down by
a rope, but Robert and Harold were let down more
securely.  They shoved off from the vessel's side, and
glided so noiselessly along, that the water was scarcely
rippled.  Harold stood in the bow, and Robert amidships,
one with a basket, and the other with a scoop net,
ready to dip it from the water.  A cat creeping upon a
shy bird could not have been more stealthy in its
approach.  But somehow the little sensitive thing became
aware of its danger, and ere the boat's prow had come
within ten feet, it quickly drew in its many arms, and
sank like lead beyond their sight.

"Umph!" said old Tom, with an expressive grunt,
"I said you might have it, if you could catch it."

On the first day of September the voyagers approached
some placid looking islands, tasselled above with lofty
palmettoes, and varied beneath with every hue of green,
from the soft colour of the mallow to the sombre tint of
the cedar and the glossy green of the live oak.  Between
these islands the vessel passed, so near to one that they
could see a herd of deer peeping at them through the
thin growth of the bluff, and a flock of wild turkeys
flying to a distant grove.

Beyond the islands lay, in perfect repose, the waters
of that bay whose tranquil beauty has been a theme of
admiration with every one whose privilege it has been
to look upon it.





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.. _`III`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER III

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   TAMPA BAY--BELLEVUE--UNLADING--A DANGEROUS
   CUT--HOW TO STOP A BLEEDING ARTERY--TOM STARBOARD AGAIN

.. vspace:: 2

Tampa Bay is a perfect gem of its kind.  Running
eastward from the gulf for twelve or fifteen
miles, then turning suddenly to the North, it
is so far sheltered from within, that, except in
case of severe westerly gales, its waters are ever quiet
and clear as crystal.  Its beach is composed of sand and
broken shells of such snowy whiteness as almost to dazzle
the eye, and it slopes so gradually from the land, that,
in many places, a child may wade for a great distance
without danger.  To those who bathe in its limpid waters
it is a matter of curiosity to see below, the slow crawling
of the conch, while the nimble crab scampers off in haste,
and fish and prawn dart wantonly around.  When the
tide is down there is no turnpike in the world better
fitted for a pleasure ride than that smooth hard beach,
from which no dust can rise, and which is of course as
level as a floor.

The spot on which Dr. Gordon proposed to build,
was one commanding a view both of the distant fort and
of the open sea, or rather of the green islands which
guarded the mouth of the bay.  It already contained a
small house, with two rooms, erected by a white
adventurer, and afterwards sold to an Indian chief of the
better class.  Dr. Gordon had been originally attracted
by the picturesque beauty of its location, and, on closer
inspection, still more interested by seeing on each side
of the chief's door a large bell pepper, that, having grown
for years untouched by frost, had attained the height of
eight or ten feet, and was covered all the year round
with magnificent bells of green and crimson.  The old
chief was dead, and the premises had been vacated for
more than a year.

Early in the afternoon the brig anchored opposite
this spot, to which Dr. Gordon had given the name of
Bellevue.  All hands were called to assist the ship
carpenter and Sam (Dr. Gordon's negro carpenter), to
build a pier head, or wharf, extending from the shore to
the vessel; this occupied them till nightfall, and the
work of unlading continued through a great part of the
night, and past the middle of the next day.

The work was somewhat delayed by an untoward
accident befalling one of the sailors, and threatening for
a time to take his life.  Peter, the brother of Sam, was
standing on the gangway, with his ax on his shoulder,
just as two of the sailors were coming out with a heavy
box.  Hearing behind him the noise of their trampling,
he turned quickly around to see what it was, at the
moment when the sailor, who was walking backwards,
turned his head to see that the gangway was clear.  By
these two motions, quickly made, the head was brought
towards the ax, and the ax towards the head, and the
consequence was that the sailor's temple received a
terrible gash.  The blood gushed out in successive jets,
proving that the cut vessel was an artery.  Setting down
the box with all speed, the assisting sailor seized the skin
of the wounded temple and tried with both hands to
bring the gaping lips together, so as to stop the bleeding.
His effort was in vain.  The blood gushed through his
fingers, and ran down to his elbows.  By this time the
captain reached the spot, and seeing that an artery was
cut, directed the sailor to press with his finger on the
*heart* side of the wound.  In a moment the jets ceased;
for the arterial blood is driven by the heart towards the
extremities, and therefore moves by jets as the heart
beats, while the *venous*, or black blood, is on its way *from
the extremities* to the heart; consequently, the pressure,
which stops the flow from a wound in either vein or
artery, must correspond to the direction in which the
blood is flowing.  [*See note p.* `16`_.]

While the sailor was thus stopping the blood by the
pressure of his finger on the side from which the current
came, the captain hastily prepared a ball of soft oakum,
about the size of a small apple.  This he laid upon the
wound, and bound tightly to the head by means of a
handkerchief.  It is probable the flow might have been
staunched had the compress been sufficiently tight, but
for some reason the blood forced itself through all the
impediments, saturated the tarred oakum, and trickled
down the sailor's face.  During this scene Dr. Gordon
was at his house on the bluff.  Hearing through a
runner, dispatched by the captain, that a man was bleeding
to death, he pointed to a quantity of cobwebs that hung
in large festoons from the unceiled roof, and directed him
to bring a handful of these to the vessel, remarking, that
"*nothing stopped blood more quickly than cobwebs*."

The sailor was by this time looking pale and ready to
faint.  Dr. Gordon inquired of the captain what had
been done, pronounced it all right, and declared that he
should probably have tried the same plan, but further
remarked,

"This artery in the temple is oftentimes exceedingly
difficult to manage by pressure.  You may stop for a
time the bleeding of *any* artery by pressing with
sufficient force upon the right place; or, if necessary to
adopt so summary a mode, you may obliterate it altogether
by *burning with a hot iron*.  But in the present
case I will show you an easier plan."

While speaking he had removed the bandages, and
taken out his lancet; and, to the captain's amazement,
in uttering the last words, he cut the bleeding artery in
two, saying, "Now bring me some cold water."

The captain was almost disposed to stay the doctor's
arm, supposing that he was about to make a fatal
mistake; but when he saw the jets of blood instantly
diminish, he exclaimed, "What new wonder is this!  Here I
have been trying for half an hour to staunch the blood
by *closing* the wound, while you have done it in a
moment, by making the wound greater."

"It is one of the secrets of the art," responded the
doctor, "but a secret which I will explain by the fact,
that *severed* arteries always contract and close more or
less perfectly; whereas, if they should be only *split* or
*partly cut*, the same contraction will keep the orifice open
and bleeding.  I advise you never to try it, except when
you know the artery to be small, or when every other
expedient has failed.  But here comes the bucket.  See
what a fine styptic cold water is."

He washed the wound till it was thoroughly cooled;
after which he brought its lips together by a few stitches
made with a bent needle, and putting on the cobwebs and
bandage, pronounced the operation complete.

"Live and larn!" muttered old Tom Starboard, as he
turned away from this scene of surgery.  "I knew it
took a smart man to manage a ship; but I'll be hanged
if there a'n't smart people in this world besides sailors."

.. _`16`:

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.. class:: small

The main arteries in a man's limbs are *deeply buried and lie
in the same general direction with the inner seams of his coat
sleeves and of his pantaloons*.  When one of them is cut--which
may be known by the light red blood flowing in jets, as above
described--all the bandages in the world will be insufficient to
staunch it, except imperfectly, and for a time, it must be tied or
cauterized.  If any one knows the position of the wounded artery,
the best bandage for effecting a temporary stoppage of the blood,
is the *tourniquet*, which is made to press like a big strong finger
directly upon it on the side from which the blood is flowing.  A
good substitute for the tourniquet may be extemporized out of a
handkerchief or other strong bandage, and a piece of corn-cob two
inches long, or a suitable piece of wood or stone.  This last is to
be placed so as to press directly over the artery; and the bandage
to be made very tight by means of a stick run through it so as to
twist it up with great power.





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.. _`IV`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER IV

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.. class:: noindent small

   CONFUSION--HOUSEKEEPING IN A HURRY--FIRST NIGHT
   ON SHORE--COMPANY TO DINNER--"BLUE EYED
   MARY"--ROBERT AT PRAYER-MEETING--DANGER OF
   DESCENDING AN OLD WELL--RECOVERING A KNIFE
   DROPPED IN A WELL

.. vspace:: 2

It is scarcely possible, for one who has not tried it,
to conceive the utter confusion which ensues on
removing, in a hurry, one's goods and chattels to
a place too small for their accommodation.  Oh! the
wilderness of boxes, baskets, bundles, heaped in disorder
everywhere! and the perfect bewilderment into which
one is thrown, when attempting the simplest act of
household duty.

"Judy," said Mary to the cook, the evening that they
landed, and while the servants were hurrying to bring
under shelter the packages which Dr. Gordon was
unwilling to leave exposed to the night air, "Judy, the sun
is only about an hour high.  Make haste and get some
tea ready for supper.  Father says you need not *cook*
anything, we can get along on cheese and crackers."

Well, surely, it sounded like a trifle to order only
a little tea.  Mary thought so, and so did Judy,--it
could be got ready in a minute.  But just at that
moment of unreadiness, there were some difficulties in
the way which neither cook nor housekeeper anticipated.
To have tea for supper ordinarily requires that one
should have fire and water, and a tea kettle and a tea
pot, and the tea itself, and cups and saucers and spoons,
and sugar and milk, and a sugar pot and milk pot,
besides a number of other things.  But how these things
are to be brought together, in their proper relation, and
in a hurry, when they are all thrown promiscuously in a
heap, is a question more easily asked than answered.

The simple order to prepare a little tea threw poor
Judy into a fluster.  "Yes, misses," she mechanically
replied, "but wey I gwine fin' de tea?"

Mary was about to say, "In the sideboard of course,"
knowing that at home it was always kept there, when
suddenly she recollected that the present sideboard was
a new one, packed with table and bed clothes, and
moreover that it was nailed up fast in a long box.  Then,
where was the tea?  O, now she recalled the fact that
the tea for immediate use was corked up in a tin can
and stowed away together with the teapot and cups,
saucers, spoons and other concomitants, in a certain
green box.  But where was the green box?  She and
Judy peered among the confused piles, and at last spied
it under another box, on which was a large basket that
was covered with a pile of bedding.

Judy obtained the tea and tea-pot and kettle, but
until that moment had neglected to order a fire; so she
went to the front door to look for her husband.

"Peter!" she called.  Peter was nowhere about the
house.  She saw him below the bluff on his way to the
landing.  So, running a little nearer, and raising her
voice to a high musical pitch, she sung out, "Petah-h!
OH-H!  Petah!  Oh!  PEE-tah!"

Peter came, and learning what was wanted, went to
the landing for his ax, and having brought her a stick
of green oak wood on his shoulder, sallied out once more
to find some kindling.

While he was on this business, Judy prepared to get
some water.  "Wey my bucket?" she inquired, looking
around.  "Who tek my bucket?  I sho' somebody moob
um; fuh I put um right down yuh, under my new
calabash."[#]

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] "Where is my bucket?  Who has taken my bucket?  I am
   sure somebody has moved it, for I put it right down here under
   my new gourd."

.. vspace:: 2

But nobody had disturbed it.  Judy had set it, half
full of water, on the ground outside the door, in the
snuggest place she could find; but a thirsty goat had
found it, and another thirsty goat had fought for it,
and between the two, it had been upset, and rolled into
a corner where it lay concealed by a bundle.  By the
time Judy got another supply of water ready it was
growing dark.  Peter had not made the fire because he
was not certain where she preferred to have it built;
so he waited, like a good, obedient husband, until she
should direct him.

In the meantime, Mary was in trouble too.  Where
was the loaf sugar to be placed in cracking it, and what
should she use for a hammer?  Then the candle box
must be opened, and candles and candle-sticks brought
together, and some place contrived for placing them
after they were lighted.

But perseverance conquers all things.  Tea *was* made,
sugar *was* cracked, and candles were both lighted and
put in position.  Bed-time came soon after, and weary
enough with their labour, they all laid down to enjoy
their first sleep at Bellevue.  Mary and Frank occupied
a pallet spread behind a pile of boxes in one room,
while their father and the older boys lay upon cloaks,
and whatever else they could convert into a temporary
mattress, in the other; and the servants tumbled
themselves upon a pile of their own clothing, which they
had thrown under a shelter erected beside the house.

Early the next morning, two convenient shelters were
hastily constructed, and the two rooms of the house were
so far relieved of their confused contents, as to allow
space for sitting, and almost for walking about.  But
ere this was half accomplished, Mary, whose sense of
order and propriety was very keen, was destined to be
thrown into quite an embarrassing situation.

Major Burke, the commandant of Fort Brooke, was
a cousin of Mrs. Gordon, and an old college friend of
the Doctor, and hearing by the captain of the brig of
the arrival of the new comers, he rode over in the
forenoon of the next day to see them.  Mary's mind
associated so indissolubly the idea of *company*, with the
stately etiquette of Charleston and Savannah, that the
sight of a well-dressed stranger approaching their door,
threw her almost into a fever.

"Oh! father," she cried, as soon as she could beckon
him out of the back door, "what shall we do?"

"Do?" he answered, laughing.  "Why, nothing at all.
What can we do?"

"But is he not going to dine with us?" enquired she.

"I presume so," he replied.  "I am sure I shall ask
him; but what of that?"

"What, father, dine with us?" she remonstrated,
"when our only table unboxed is no bigger than a light
stand, and we have scarcely room for that!"

"Yes," he said, "we will do the best we can for
him now, and hope to do better some other time.
Perhaps you will feel less disturbed when you realize that
he is your cousin and a soldier.  Come, let me make you
acquainted with him."

Mary was naturally a neat girl, and although her
hands were soiled with labour, she was soon ready to
obey her father's invitation.  Slipping into the back
room, by a low window, she washed her hands and face,
and brushed into order the ringlets that clustered around
her usually sunny face, and then came modestly into
the apartment where the two gentlemen were sitting.

"John, this is my eldest daughter, Mary," said the
Doctor, as she approached; "and Mary this is your
cousin, Major Burke, of whom you have heard your
mother and me so often speak."

The two cousins shook hands very cordially, and
appeared to be mutually pleased.

"She is my housekeeper for the present," her father
continued, "and has been in some trouble" (here Mary
looked reproachfully at him), "that she could not give
you a more fitting reception."

"Ah, indeed," said the Major, with a merry twinkle
of his eye, "I suspect that when my little cousin learns
how often we soldiers are glad to sit on the bare ground,
and to feed, Indian fashion, on Indian fare, she will
feel little trouble about giving us entertainment."

Mary's embarrassment was now wholly dispelled.
Her cousin was fully apprised of their crowded and
confused condition, and was ready to partake with
good humour of whatever they could hastily prepare.

The dinner passed off far more agreeably than she
supposed possible.  By her father's direction, a dining
table was unboxed and spread under the boughs of a
magnificent live oak, and Judy, having ascertained where
the stores were to be found, gave them not only a
dinner, but a dessert to boot, which they all enjoyed
with evident relish.  Ah!--black and ugly as she was,
that Judy was a jewel.

The Major had come thus hastily upon them for the
purpose of insisting that the whole family should occupy
quarters at the Fort as his guests, until the new house,
intended for their future reception, should be completed.
To this Dr. Gordon objected that his presence was
necessary for the progression of the work, but promised that
at the earliest period when he could be spared for a few
days, he would accept the invitation and bring the
young people with him.

The visitor did not take his leave until the shades of
evening warned him of the lapse of time.  Mary had
become much more interested, in consequence of her first
distress and the pleasant termination, than she possibly
could have been without these experiences; and as the
whole family stood at the front door, watching his
rapidly diminishing figure, she perpetrated a blunder
which gave rise to much merriment.

Her father had remarked, "It will be long after dark
before he can reach the Fort."

Mary rejoined, "Yes, sir, but," looking with an
abstracted air, first at the table where they had enjoyed
their pleasant repast, then at the darkening form of the
soldier, and finally at the full moon which began to
pour its silver radiance over the bay, "it will make
no difference tonight, for it will be blue-eyed Mary."

All turned their eyes upon her in perplexity, to gather
from her countenance the interpretation of her language;
but Mary was still looking quietly at the moon.  Harold
thought the girl had become suddenly deranged.

Robert, who had observed her abstraction of mind, and
who suspected the truth, began to laugh.  Her father
turned to her and asked, with a tone so divided between
the ludicrous and the grave, that it was hard to tell
which predominated, "What do you mean by 'blue-eyed Mary'?"

"Did I say blue-eyed Mary?" she exclaimed, reddening
from her temples to her finger ends, and then giving
way to a fit of laughter so hearty and so prolonged, that
she could scarcely reply, "I meant *moonlight*."[#]

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.. class:: noindent small

   [#] It is but justice to say that this absurd mistake was *an actual
   occurrence*.  For many a day afterwards the members of the
   company present on that occasion seldom alluded to moonlight among
   each other, but by the name of "blue-eyed Mary."

.. vspace:: 2

There was no resisting the impulse, all laughed with
her, and long afterwards did it furnish a theme for
merriment.  Robert, however, was disposed to be so
wicked on the occasion, that his father deemed it
necessary to stop his teasing, by turning the laugh against
him.

"It is certainly," said he, "the most ridiculous thing
I have witnessed since Robert's queer prank at the
prayer-meeting."

As soon as the word "prayer-meeting" was uttered,
Robert's countenance fell.

"What is it, uncle?" inquired Harold.

"O, do tell it, father," begged Mary, clapping her
hands with delight.

"About a year since," said Dr. Gordon, "I attended
a prayer-meeting in the city of Charleston, where thirty
or forty intelligent people were assembled at the house
of their pastor.  It was night.  Robert occupied a chair
near the table, beside which the minister officiated, and
where he could be seen by every person in the room:
Not long after the minister's address began, Robert's
head was seen to nod; and every once in a while his
nods were so expressive, apparently, of assent to the
remarks made, as to bring a smile upon the face of more
than one of the company.  But he was not content with
nodding.  Soon his head fell back upon the chair, and
he snored most musically, with his mouth wide open.  It
was then nearly time for another prayer, and I was
very much in hopes that when we moved to kneel, he
would be awakened by the noise.  But no such good
fortune was in store for me.  He slept through the
whole prayer; and then, to make the scene as ridiculous
as possible, he awoke as the people were in the act of
rising, and, supposing they were about to kneel, he
deliberately knelt down beside his chair, and kept that
position until he was seen by every person present.
There was a slight pause in the services, I think the
clergyman himself was somewhat disconcerted, and
afraid to trust his voice.  Poor Robert soon suspected
his mistake.  He peeped cautiously around, then arose
and took his seat with a very silly look.  I am glad it
happened.  He has never gone to sleep in meeting since."

And from that time forth Mary never heard Robert
allude to her moonlight; indeed he was so much cut down
by this story, that for a day or two he was more than
usually quiet.  At last, however, an incident occurred
which restored to him the ascendancy he had hitherto
held over his cousin, by illustrating the importance of
possessing a proper store of sound, practical knowledge.

The two had gone to examine an old well, near the
house, and were speculating upon the possibility of
cleansing it from its trash and other impurities, so as
to be fit for use, when Harold's knife slipped from his
hand and fell down the well.  It did not fall into the
water, but was caught by a half decayed board that
floated on its surface.

"I cannot afford to lose that knife," said Harold,
looking around for something to aid his descent, "I must
go down after it."

"You had better be careful how you do that," interposed
Robert, "it may not be safe."

"What," asked Harold, "are you afraid of the well's
caving?"

"Not so much of its caving," replied Robert, "as of
the bad air that may have collected at the bottom."

Harold snuffed at the well's mouth to detect such ill
odours as might be there, and said, "I perceive no
smell."

"You mistake my meaning," remarked Robert.  "In
all old wells, vaults and places under ground, there
is apt to collect a kind of air or gas, like that which
comes from burning charcoal, that will quickly
suffocate any one who breathes it.  Many a person has lost
his life by going into such a place without testing it
beforehand."

"Can you tell whether there is any of it here?" asked
Harold.

"Very easily, with a little fire," answered Robert.
"AIR THAT WILL NOT SUPPORT FLAME, WILL NOT SUPPORT LIFE."

They stuck a splinter of rich pine in the cleft end
of a pole, and, lighting it by a match, let it softly down
the well.  To Harold's astonishment the flame was
extinguished as suddenly as if it had been dipped
in water, before it had gone half way to the bottom.

"Stop, let us try that experiment again," said he.

They tried it repeatedly, and with the same result,
except that the heavy poisonous air below being stirred
by the pole, had become somewhat mingled with the
pure air above, and the flame was not extinguished quite
so suddenly as at first; it burnt more and more dimly as
it descended, and then went out.

"I do believe there is something there," said he at
last, "and I certainly shall not go down, as I intended.
But how am I to get my knife?"

"By using father's magnet, which is a strong one,"
replied Robert.  "Let us go and ask him for it."

On relating the circumstances to Dr. Gordon, he said,
"You have made a most fortunate escape, Harold.  Had
you descended that well, filled as it is with carbonic
acid gas, you would have become suddenly sick and
faint, and would probably have fallen senseless before
you could have called for help.  *Make it a rule never
to descend such a place without first trying the purity of
its air, as you did just now*."

"But can we not get that bad air out?" asked Harold.

"Yes, by various means, and some of them very easy,"
replied his uncle.  "One is by exploding gunpowder as
far down as possible; another is by lowering down and
drawing up many times a thickly leaved bush, so as to
pump out the foul air, or at least to mix it largely with
the pure.  But your knife can be obtained without all
that trouble.  Robert, can you not put him upon a plan?"

"I have already mentioned it, and we have come to
ask if you will not let us have your magnet," replied
Robert.  "But," continued he smilingly, "I do not
think that we shall have any need this time for the
looking-glass."

Harold looked from one to the other for an explanation,
and his uncle said:

"Last year Robert dropped his knife down a well,
as you did, and proposed to recover it by means of a
strong magnet tied to a string.  But the well was deep
and very dark, and after fishing a long time in vain,
he came to me for help.  I made him bring a large
looking-glass from the house, and by means of it
reflected such a body of sun-light down the well that we
could plainly see his knife at the bottom, stowed away
in a corner.  The magnet was strong enough to bring
it safely to the top.  You also may try the experiment."

With thanks, Harold took the offered magnet, tied
it to a string, and soon recovered his knife.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`V`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER V

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   RILEY--A THUNDERSTORM--ASCERTAINING THE DISTANCE
   OF OBJECTS BY SOUND--SECURITY AGAINST LIGHTNING--MEANS
   OF RECOVERING LIFE FROM APPARENT DEATH
   BY LIGHTNING

.. vspace:: 2

A few days after this incident another visitor
was seen coming from Fort Brooke.  This
person was not a horseman, but some one in a boat,
who seemed even from a distance to possess
singular dexterity in the use of the paddle.  His boat
glided over the smooth surface of the bay as if propelled
less by his exertions than by his will.  Dr. Gordon
viewed him through the spy glass, and soon decided him
to be an Indian, who was probably bringing something
to sell.

It so turned out.  He was a half-breed, by the name
of Riley, who frequently visited the fort with venison and
turkeys to sell, and who on the present occasion brought
with him in addition a fine green turtle.  Major Burke,
conceiving that his friends at Bellevue would prize these
delicacies more than they at the fort, to whom they were
no longer rarities, had directed the Indian to bring them,
with his compliments, to Dr. Gordon.

Riley was a fine looking fellow, of about thirty
years of age--tall, keen-eyed, straight as an arrow, and
with a pleasing open countenance.  He brought a note
from the fort, recommending him for honesty and faithfulness.

Dr. Gordon was so much pleased with his general
appearance, that he engaged him to return the
following week with another supply of game, and prepared
to remain several days, in case he should be needed in
raising the timbers of the new house.

Toward the close of the week, the weather gave
indications of a change.  A heavy looking cloud rose slowly
from the west, and came towards them, muttering and
growling in great anger.  It was a tropical
thunderstorm.  The distant growls were soon converted into
peals.  The flashes increased rapidly in number and
intensity, and became terrific.  Mary and Frank nestled
close to their father; and even stout-hearted Harold
looked grave, as though he did not feel quite so
comfortable as usual.

"That flash was uncommonly keen," Robert remarked,
with an unsteady voice.  "Do you not think, father, it
was very near?"

Instead of replying, his father appeared to be busy
counting; and when the crash of thunder was heard,
jarring their ears, and making the earth quiver, he
replied,

"Not very.  Certainly not within a mile."

"But, uncle, can you calculate the distance of the
lightning?" Harold asked.

"Unquestionably, or I should not have spoken with
so much confidence.  Robert imagined, as most people
do, that a flash is near in proportion to its brightness;
but that is no criterion.  You must calculate its distance
by the time which elapses between the flash and the
report.  Sound travels at the rate of about a mile in
five seconds.  Should any of you like to calculate the
distance of the next flash, put your finger on your pulse,
and count the number of beats before you hear the
thunder."

An opportunity soon occurred.  A vivid flash was
followed after a few seconds by a roll, and then by a
peal of thunder.  All were busy counting their pulses.
Mary ceased when she heard the first roll, exclaiming
"Five!"  The others held on until they heard the loud
report, and said "Seven."  Dr. Gordon reported only
six beats of his own pulse, remarking,

"That flash discharged itself just one mile distant.
Our pulses are quicker than seconds; and yours quicker
than mine.  Sound will travel a mile during six beats of
a person of my age, and during seven of persons of yours."

"But, father," argued Mary, "I surely heard the
thunder rolling when I said *five*."

"So did I," he answered; "and that proves that
although the lightning discharged itself upon the earth
at the distance of a mile, it *commenced* to flow from a
point nearer overhead."

The young people were so deeply interested in these
calculations, that they felt less keenly than they could
have imagined possible the discomfort of the storm.
This was Dr. Gordon's intention.  But at last Mary
and Frank winced so uneasily, when flashes of unusual
brightness appeared, that their father remarked, "It
is a weakness, my children, to be afraid of lightning that
is seen and of thunder that is heard--*they are spent and
gone*.  Persons never see the flash that kills them--it
does its work before they can see, hear, or feel."

At this instant came a flash so keen, that it seemed
to blaze into their very eyes, and almost simultaneously
came a report like the discharge of a cannon.  Dr. Gordon's
lecture was in vain; all except him and Harold
started to their feet.  Frank ran screaming to his father.
Mary rushed to a pile of bedding, and covered herself
with the bed-clothing.  Robert looked at Mary's refuge,
with a manifest desire to seek a place beside her.  Harold
fixed his eye upon his uncle, with a glance of keen
inquiry.

"This is becoming serious," said the Doctor anxiously.
"Something on the premises has been struck.  Stay here,
children, while I look after the servants.  *Your safest
place is in the middle of the room*, as far as possible
from the chimney and walls, along which the lightning
passes."

While giving these directions, at the same time that
he seized his hat, cloak, and umbrella, William rushed
in to say that the horses had been struck down and
killed.  They were stabled under a shelter erected near
a tall palmetto--a tree so seldom struck by lightning, as
to be regarded by the Indians as exempt from danger.
The fluid had descended the trunk, tearing a great hole
in the ground, and jarring down a part of the loose
enclosure.

"Call all hands!" said the Doctor.  "Throw off the
shelter instantly, to let the rain pour upon them; and
bring also your buckets and pails."

On his going out, the children crowded to the door,
to see, if possible, the damage that was done; but he
waved them all back, with the information that during
a thunder storm an open door or window is one of the
most dangerous places about a house.  They quickly
retired; Mary and Frank going to the bed, Robert taking
a chair to the middle of the room, and drawing up his
feet from the floor.  Harold's remark was characteristic.
"I wish uncle would let me help with the horses.  I
am sure that that is the safest place in this
neighbourhood; for I never saw lightning strike twice on the
same spot."

One of the horses was speedily revived by the falling
rain.  He staggered to his feet, then moved painfully
away, smelling at his hoofs, to ascertain what ailed them.
The other continued for an hour or more, to all
appearance, dead.  The servants dipped buckets and pails full
of water from pools made by the rain, and poured them
upon the lifeless body, until it was perfectly drenched.
They had given up all hope of a restoration.  William's
eyes looked watery (for he was the coachman) and he
heaved a sorrowful sigh over his brute companion.
"Poor Tom!" he said, "what will Jerry do now for a
mate?"  Another half hour passed without any sign
of returning life; and even William would have ceased
his efforts, had it not been for his master's decided
"Pour on water!  Keep pouring!"

At last there appeared a slight twitching in one of
the legs.  Poor Tom was not dead after all.  William
gave a "Hurra boys! he's coming to," in which the
others joined with unfeigned delight.  "Now, William,"
said his master, "do you and Sam take the strips of
blanket that you rub with, and see if you cannot start
his blood to flowing more rapidly.  Tom will soon open
his eyes."

Two of the servants continued to pour on water, the
others to rub violently the head, neck, legs and body.
The reviving brute moved first one foreleg, then the
other, while the hinder legs were yet paralysed.  Then
he opened his eyes, raised his head, and made an effort
to turn himself.  As soon as he was able to swallow,
Dr. Gordon ordered a drench of camphorated spirit, and
left him with directions to the servants.  "Listen all of
you.  I have shown you how to treat a horse struck down
by lightning.  Do you treat a person in the same way.
Pour on water by the bucket full, until he gives some
signs of life; then rub him hard, and give him some
heating drink.  *Don't give up trying for half a day*."

The storm passed over.  Tom and Jerry were once
more united under the skilful management of William,
who frequently boasted that "they were the toughest
creatures in creation, even lightning could not kill them."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`VI`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER VI

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   THE ONLY WAY TO STUDY--TAKING COLD--RILEY'S
   FAMILY--THE HARE LIP---FISHING FOR SHEEPHEAD---FRANK
   CHOKED WITH A FISH BONE--HIS RELIEF--HIS STORY
   OF THE SHEEP'S HEAD AND DUMPLINGS--"TILL THE
   WARFARE IS OVER"

.. vspace:: 2

Dr. Gordon began to feel dissatisfied that his
children were losing so much valuable time
from study; for the house was yet loaded with
baggage which could be put nowhere else, and their
time was broken up by unavoidable interruptions.
Until a more favourable opportunity, therefore, he required
only that they should devote one hour every day to
faithful study, and that they should spend the rest of
their time as usefully as possible.

His theory of education embraced two very simple,
but very efficacious principles.  First, to *excite in his
children the desire of acquiring knowledge*; and,
secondly, to train them to *give their undivided attention to
the subject in hand*.  This last, he said, was the only
way to study; and he told them, in illustration, the story
of Sir Isaac Newton, who, on being asked by a friend,
in view of his prodigious achievements, what was the
difference, so far as he was conscious, between his mind
and those of ordinary people, answered simply in the
power of concentration.


Harold had been greatly discouraged at finding
himself so far behind his cousins in the art of study, but
by following the advice of his uncle, he soon
experienced a great and an encouraging change.  At first, it
is true, he could scarcely give his whole mind to any
study more than five minutes at a time, without a sense
of weariness; but he persevered, and day by day his
powers increased so manifestly that he used frequently
to say to himself, "*concentration is everything--everything
in study*."

But Dr. Gordon's instructions were by no means
confined to books and the school-room; he used every
favourable opportunity to give information on points that
promised to be useful.

"Mary," said he one day, to his daughter, who was
sitting absorbed in study, beside a window through
which the sea breeze was pouring freshly upon her
head and shoulders, and who had, in consequence, began
to exhibit symptoms of a cold, "Mary, my daughter,
remove your seat.  Do you not know that to allow a
current of air like that to blow upon a part of your
person, is almost sure to produce sickness?"

"I know it, father," she replied, "and I intended
some time since to change my seat, but the sum is so
hard that I forgot all about the wind."

"I am glad to see you capable of such fixedness of
mind," said he, "but I will take this opportunity to say
to you, and to the rest, that there are two seasons,
especially, when you should be on your guard against
these dangerous currents of air,--one is when you are
asleep, and the other is when your mind is absorbed in
thought.  At these times the pores of the skin are more
than usually open, as may be seen by the flow of perspiration;
and a current of cool air, at such a time, especially
if partial, is almost certain to give cold."

"But how can we be on our guard, father," asked
Mary with a smile, "when we are too far gone in sleep
or in thought, to know what we are about!"

"We must take the precaution beforehand," he
replied.  "Make it a rule never to sleep nor to study in
a partial current of air; and also remember that *the
first moment* you perceive the tingling sensation of an
incipient cold, you must obey the warning which kind
nature gives you or else must bear the consequences."

Mary's cold was pretty severe.  For days she suffered
from cough and pain.  But that day's lecture on
currents of air, followed by so impressive an illustration,
was probably more useful than her lesson in arithmetic;
certainly it was longer remembered and more frequently
acted upon.

True to his promise, Riley appeared at the appointed
time with his supply of game.  He said, however, that
he should remain only a few days, because he had left
his young wife sick.  It interested Mary not a little to
perceive that a savage could feel and act so much like
a civilized being; and she was trying to think of
something complimentary to say upon this occasion, when
he threw her all aback, by adding, that this was his
*youngest* and *favourite* wife.

"What! have you two wives?" she exclaimed in horror.

"Yes, only two, now; one dead."

Her mind was sadly changed at this evidence of
heathenism; but ere the day was over she received a
still more impressive proof.

Dr. Gordon perceiving that he looked sad whenever
an allusion was made to his home, he asked him if his
wife was seriously sick, to which he answered, No.

"When I go home, last week," said he, "my squaw
had a fine boy, big and fat.  My heart glad.  But I
look and see a big hole in his mouth, from here to
here," pointing from the lip to the nose.

"That is what we call a hare lip," said Dr. Gordon,
"it is not uncommon."

"I sorry very much," continued Riley.  "Child too ugly."

"But it can be easily cured," observed Dr. Gordon.

Riley looked at him inquiringly, and Dr. Gordon
added, "O, yes, it can be easily cured.  If you will bring
your child here, any time, I will stop that hole in half
an hour; and there will be no sign of it left, except a
little scar, like a cut."

The Indian shook his head mournfully, "Can't bring
him.  Too late now."

"O, the child is dead?" inquired the Doctor.  "I am sorry."

"Dead now," replied Riley.  "I look at him one day,
two day, tree day.  Child too ugly.  I throw him in the
water."

"What!" exclaimed Dr. Gordon, suddenly remembering
that it was the practice of the Indians to destroy
all their deformed children.  "You did not drown it?"

"Child ugly too much," answered Riley, with a
softened tone of voice.  "Child good for nothing.  I
throw him in the water."

Dr. Gordon was not only shocked, as any man of
feeling would have been, under the circumstances, but
he felt as a Christian, whose heart moved with
compassion towards his dark skinned brother.  He uttered
not one word of rebuke or of condemnation; his time
for speaking to the purpose had not yet come; and he
carefully avoided everything in word and look which
should widen the space which naturally exists between
the white man and the Indian, the Christian and the
pagan.

Poor Mary!  She no sooner heard this confession,
than she sidled away from her interesting savage, until
wholly beyond his reach, and could scarcely look at him
during his stay that week, without feelings akin to
fear.  An Indian, she learned, was an Indian after all.

While Riley was there the boys often borrowed his
boat, and Harold tried to imitate his dexterity in the
use of the paddle.  They soon became great friends.  On
one of their excursions for fish, they went, by his
direction, around a point of land where the head of a fallen
live oak lay in the water, and its partially decayed
limbs were encrusted with barnacles and young oysters.
There they soon caught a large supply of very fine fish
of various sorts, particularly of the sheephead,--a
delicious fish, shaped somewhat like the perch, only stouter
and rounder, beautifully marked with broad alternate
bands of black and white around the body, and varying
in weight from half a pound to ten or fifteen pounds.

No one was more delighted than Frank, with the result
of the excursion; for he was fond, as a cat, of
everything in the shape of fish.  But, it is said, there is no
rose without its thorn; and so he found in the present
case.  He was enjoying, rather voraciously, the luxury
of his favourite food, when a disorderly bone lodged
crossways in the narrow part of his throat, and gave
him excessive pain.  Frank was a polite boy.  Avoiding,
as far as possible, disturbing the others by his
misfortune, he slipped quietly from the table, and tried
every means to relieve himself.  But it was not until
he had applied to his father, and, under his direction,
swallowed a piece of hard bread, that he was able to
resume his place.[#]

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] Unwilling to mislead any of my young readers, by describing
   expedients and remedies that might not serve them in case of
   necessity, I have submitted my manuscript to several persons for
   inspection, and among others to a judicious physician and
   surgeon.  It never occurred to me that in mentioning so simple a
   thing as swallowing a crust for the removal of a fish-bone, I
   could possibly do harm.  To my surprise, however, my medical
   friend observed, that he supposed Dr. Gordon knew that the fishbone,
   which Frank swallowed, was *small* and *flexible*, or he would
   not have used that expedient.

.. class:: noindent small

   "If," said he, "the substance which lodges in the throat is so
   stiff (a pin for instance) as not to be easily bent, the attempt to
   force it down by swallowing a piece of bread may be unsafe; it
   may lacerate the lining membrane, or, being stopped by the
   offending substance, it may cause the person to be worse choked
   than before."

.. class:: noindent small

   "But, Doctor, what should the poor fellow do in such a case?"
   he was asked.

.. class:: noindent small

   "I suspect Dr. Gordon would have used a large feather?"

.. class:: noindent small

   "Indeed!"

.. class:: noindent small

   "Yes, he would have rumpled its plume, so as to reverse the
   direction of the feathery part, and would have thrust that down
   the throat, below the pin or bone.  On withdrawing the feather,
   the substance would be either found adhering to its wet sides, or
   raised on end, so that it could be easily swallowed."

.. class:: noindent small

   With many thanks for this suggestion, the promise was made
   that the young readers of Robert and Harold should have the
   benefit of his advice.  But I think that the best plan is to avoid
   the fish-bones.

.. vspace:: 2

Being not quite so humble as he was polite, however,
he began to condemn the fish instead of himself for his
accident.  His father told him he had no right to say
one word against the fish, which was remarkably free
from bones, and was just preparing to give him a
gentle lecture on gormandizing, when Frank, foreseeing
what was to come, was adroit enough to seize a moment's
pause in the conversation, and to divert the subject, by
asking with a very droll air,

"I wonder, father, if these sheephead are of the
same kind with that one that butted the dumplings?"

"I do not know what dumplings you mean," said his
father.

"O, did you never hear the story of the sheep's head
and the dumplings?  Well, brother Robert can tell you
all about it."

"No, no," returned his father, who saw through the
little fellow's stratagem.  "No, no, Frank, it is your own
story, and you must go through with it."

This was a trial, for Frank had never in his life
made so long an extempore speech in the presence of the
assembled family, as he had now imposed upon himself.
But, in the desperation of the moment, he mustered
courage, and thus spoke,

"There was once an old woman that left her little
boy to mind a pot that had in it a sheep's head and
some dumplings boiling for dinner, while she went to
a neighbour's house to attend some sort of preaching.
The little boy did not seem to have much sense; and
had never minded a pot before; so when he saw the
water boiling over, and the sheep's head and the
dumplings bobbing about in every direction, he became
frightened and ran for his mother, bawling at the top of his
voice, 'Mammy! the dumplings! run!'  She saw him
coming in among the people, and tried to stop his
bawling by shaking her head and winking her eyes at
him; but he would not stop.  He crowded right up to
her, saying, 'Mammy, you needn't to wink nor to blink,
for the sheep's head is butting all the dumplings out of
the pot!'"

Throughout this story Frank did not make a balk or a
blunder.  He kept straight on, as if brimful of fun, and
uttered the last sentence with such an affectation of
grave terror, as produced a universal laugh.

His father had tried hard to keep up his dignity for
the intended lecture, but it also gave way, and he
contented himself with saying,

"Well, master Frank, I see you are at your old
tricks again.  And since you show such an aptitude for
putting people into good humour, there will be reason
to think you are in fault, if you ever put them out.
Harold, has your aunt ever told you how Frank once
*kissed himself out of a scrape with her*?"

Harold said she had not, and his uncle went on,

"It was when he was between three and four years
of age.  His mother had taken him on a visit to a
friend of hers in the neighbourhood of Charleston, and
he was allowed to sit at the dinner table with the ladies.
But he became so disorderly and perverse that his
mother, after an ineffectual reprimand or two, ordered
him to go up stairs, meaning to her room above.  The
language was indefinite, and Frank interpreted it to
suit his own pleasure.  He went up stairs, it is true, but
only half way, where he seated himself so as to look
at the table and the company, and then began to drum
with his feet and to talk loud enough to be heard,

"'H-m-n-h!  This is a very good place.  I love these
nice stairs.  I'd rather be here than anywhere else in
the world.  I don't want any of that old dinner!'

"This was very rude language, and more especially
when used in a house where he was a guest.  His mother
was so much mortified that as soon as dinner was over
she took him to her room, gave him a sound strapping,
and put him in a corner, where he was to stay, until he
promised to be a good boy.  Then she lay down on her
bed as if to take a nap, but in reality to meditate what
course to pursue towards her rude little child.

"Frank, you know, is fond of singing.  There was
a wild religious melody which he had learnt about that
time, and which he was constantly singing.  It had a
short chorus at the end of every line, and a long chorus
at the end of each verse, running this way,

|  "'Children of the heavenly King,
|    Till the warfare is over, Hallelujah,
|  As ye journey sweetly sing,
|    Till the warfare is over, Hallelujah.'

I forget the long chorus.

"Well, your aunt had not been upon the bed more
than a few minutes, before Frank quietly slipped from
his corner and stole close to the bedside to make friends.
But his mother would not notice him.  He bent over and
gave her a kiss.  Still she looked displeased.  He tried
another kiss, but she turned away her face.  This was
a damper.  Frank was disheartened, but not in despair.
He leaned over the bed, making a long reach, to try
the effect of a third kiss.

"'There, Frank,' said his mother, in a displeased tone,
'that is enough.  You need not kiss me any more.'

"'Yes, mother,' said he, leaning far over, and taking
hold of her, 'I mean to kiss you *till the warfare is over,
Hallelujah*.'

"I need not say that, from that moment, the warfare
*was* over, and Frank behaved himself well through the
remainder of the visit.

"And now, since he has managed to escape the lecture
I was about to give him on eating too fast, I hope he
will hereafter cultivate the recollection of *today and the
fish-bones*."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`VII`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER VII

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   BUG IN THE BAR--VISIT TO PORT BROOKE--EVADING
   BLOODHOUNDS--CONTEST WITH DOGS AND MEANS OF
   DEFENCE--AMUSING ESCAPE FROM A WILD BULL AND
   CONVERSATION ON THE SUBJECT

.. vspace:: 2

While Riley was at Bellevue the workmen
succeeded in raising the frame of the new house,
and in completing the most laborious part of
the work.  On the last days of his stay he was dispatched
with a message to Fort Brooke, to say that on the
following Tuesday Dr. Gordon and family would make their
promised visit.

During the interval nothing of special interest
occurred, except a painful accident that happened to
Harold.  He was awakened in the night by a sudden
tickling in his ear.  This was caused by a harvest
bug--a black hard-winged insect, nearly an inch long.  When
first feeling it, and uncertain what it was, he sprang up
in bed, and struck the ear violently from behind, in the
hope of jarring it out.  Failing in this, he poured his
ear full of water; but still not succeeding, he felt along
the wall for a large needle he recollected seeing there
the evening before, and with that endeavoured to pick it
out.  The frightened bug finding itself so energetically
pursued into its unnatural hiding place, went deeper,
and began to scratch with its clogged feet, and to bite
upon the tender drum of the ear.  The pain it caused
was excruciating.  Harold, feeling that he must soon
go into spasms, unless relieved, wakened his uncle, and
entreated earnestly for help.  To his inexpressible
delight Dr. Gordon said he could relieve him in a minute;
and seizing the night lamp he poured the ear full of
oil.  Scarcely had this fluid closed around the intruder,
before it scrambled out, and reached the external ear
just in time to die.

Harold could not find words for his gratitude.

"Uncle," said he, "you may think me extravagant,
but I assure you the pain was so intense, that I was
thinking seriously, in case you could not relieve me, of
making Sam chop my ear open with a hatchet.  This I
suppose would have killed me; but it must have been
death in either case."

On the day appointed, they went to Fort Brooke in
the pleasure boat, Dr. Gordon being at the helm, and
Robert and Harold taking turns in managing the sails.
The wind was fair, and the light ripple of the water
was barely sufficient to give a graceful dancing to their
beautiful craft.  Far below the transparent waves, they
could see the glistening of bright shells upon the bottom,
and every now and then the flash of a silver-sided fish.

At the fort they were received with the courtesy that
so generally marks gentlemen of the army; and the
three days of their stay passed off very pleasantly.  The
reveille and tattoo, the daily drill, and the practising
with cannon, were novelties to the young back-woodsmen.
Frank was exceedingly surprised, as well as
amused, to see cannon-balls making "ducks and drakes,"
as he called them, upon the water.  He had often
thrown oyster-shells, and flat stones, so as to skim in
this way, but he had no idea that it could be done with
a cannon-ball.

On the last day of their visit, Harold escaped from an
unpleasant predicament, only by the exercise of cool
courage and ready ingenuity.  He had gone with Frank
to visit a cannon target, a mile or more distant.
Wandering along the bank of the Hillsborough river, which
flows hard by the fort, and then entering the woods on
the other side of the road, he was suddenly accosted by
a man on horseback, who had been concealed behind a
bower of yellow jessamines.

"Good day, my young friend.  Have you been walking
much in these woods today?"

Harold said that he had not, and inquired why the
question was asked.  The man replied, "I am watching
for a villainous Indian-negro, who was seen skulking here
this morning.  He has been detected in stealing, and
several persons will soon come with blood-hounds to hunt
him.  If you see his track" (and he described its
peculiarity), "I hope you will let us know."

Harold consented to do so, and walked on, unwilling
to be the spectator of the scene.  Returning to the road,
and walking some distance, the thought flashed into his
mind that possibly the dogs might fall upon his own
trail.  It was certain that they would naturally take
the freshest trail, and he was confident that the man did
not know which way he went.  The dogs were probably
fierce, and it would be exceedingly difficult, in case
of an attack, to defend himself and Frank too.  Becoming
every moment more uneasy, he went to the roadside and
cut himself a stout bludgeon.  Frank watched the
operation, and suspected that something was wrong, though
he could not conjecture what.

"Cousin," said he, "what did you cut that big stick for?"

"A walking-stick," he replied: "Is it not a good one?"

"Yes, pretty good; but I never saw you use a walking-stick
before."

At that moment, Harold heard afar off the deep bay
of the blood-hounds, opening upon a trail.  The sound
became every moment more distinct.  He could
distinguish the cry of four separate dogs.  They were
evidently upon his scent.  He clutched his club, and looked
fiercely back.  It was a full half mile to the place where,
having left the man, he emerged into the road; and
there were several curves in it so great that he could
neither see nor be seen for any distance.  Necessity is
the mother of invention.  A bright thought came into his
mind.  "Stay here," said he to Frank, "and don't
move one peg till I come back."

He was at a sharp bend of the road, on the convex
side of which lay a little run of water, skirted by a thick
undergrowth.  He took a course straight with the road,
and hurrying as fast as possible into the wet low ground,
returned upon his own track; then, taking Frank in his
arms, sprang with all his might, at right angles, to his
former course, and ran with him to a neighbouring knoll,
which commanded a view of the road, where he stopped
to reconnoitre.  He had *doubled*, as hunters term this
manoeuvre, practised by hares and foxes when pursued
by hounds; and his intention was, if still pursued, to
place Frank in a tree, and with his club to beat off the
dogs until the hunters arrived.

It was soon proved that the hounds were actually upon
his track.  They came roaring along the road, with their
tails raised, and their noses to the ground.  Arriving
at the spot where Frank had stood, they did not pursue
the road, but plunged into the bushes, upon the track
which Harold had doubled, and went floundering into
the mire of the stream beyond, where they soon scattered
in every direction, hunting for the lost trail.  The boys
did not pursue their walk; having made so narrow an
escape, they turned their steps, without delay, towards
the fort.

"Cousin," inquired Frank, on their way back, "did
not those dogs come upon our track!"  Harold replied,
"Yes."

"And did you cut that big stick to fight them?"

"Yes."

"And did you intend to cheat them by going into the
bushes, and coming back the same way, and then jumping
off, with me in your arms?"  Harold still said, "Yes."

"Well, now, cousin," inquired Frank, "where did you
learn that nice trick?"

"From the rabbits and foxes," he answered.  "I did
not know who could tell me better than they, how to
escape from dogs."

Frank said he always knew that foxes were very cunning,
but he never before heard of any one's taking a fox
for his teacher.

On returning to the fort, Dr. Gordon applauded the
ruse, and congratulated Harold upon his escape; but, at
the same time, informed him that his plan was not to be
relied upon.  "A well trained hound," said he, "is as
competent to nose out a doubled track as you are to devise
it.  I attribute your escape, partly to the fact that the
dogs are not staunch, and partly to the help afforded
you by the miry bottom, on which your scent could not lie."

The conversation now turned naturally upon contests
with dogs, and different methods of escape.  Dr. Gordon
related the story of his having defended himself and
his little brother against three fierce dogs, when he was
about Robert's age, by putting his back against a wall,
and beating off the assailants with a club.

"But were you ever forced to fight them when you had
no stick?" asked Harold.

"Fortunately not," his uncle replied.  "Though I
knew a person once who was caught as you describe, and
who devised at least a show of defence.  He took off his
hat and shoved it at the dog, with a fierce look,
whenever it approached.  But I presume that his success
depended more upon the expression of his countenance than
upon the threatening appearance of his weapon.  A
*fearless eye* and *a quiet resolute manner*, is the best defence
against *any enemy*, human or brute, that can be devised.

"I did, however, witness one expedient adopted by a
sailor, which goes to show what can be accomplished in
an emergency of the kind, by a cool head and a steady
hand.  A large dog rushed at him, without provocation,
on the public wharf.  The sailor spoke to him, looked
at him, shoved his hat at him, but in vain.  The dog flew
at his legs.  Quietly drawing his knife, as a last resource,
and holding his hat in his left hand, he stooped, and
allowing the dog to seize his hat, passed his knife
underneath it, into his throat.  The dog staggered back,
mortally wounded, not having seen the hand that slew him."

On Friday, September 24th, the company returned to
Bellevue; and on the week following, had the opportunity
of witnessing an act of cool courage, which Harold
declared to evince far more ingenuity and composure of
mind, than his own escape from the blood-hounds.

Riley had made them another visit, and was engaged
at work upon the house, under the direction of Sam, the
carpenter.  Dr. Gordon took the young people in the
pleasure boat, to spend an afternoon in the agreeable
occupation of obtaining another supply of fish.  After
trying for some time, with poor success, they saw Riley
coming along the bluff; his object being, as was
afterwards shown, to point out the reason of their failure,
and to tell them what to do.

As he approached, a fierce looking bull rushed from
a grove of live oaks, and made furiously at him.  Had
Riley been near the shore he might, and probably would,
have sprung into the water, and thus escaped; but the
enraged beast was between him and his place of refuge.
The company in the boat felt seriously anxious for his
safety, since there appeared little chance of his escaping
without a contest.  But Riley took the matter very coolly.
He glided to a little clump of saplings, and holding to
one of them at arm's length, seemed to enjoy the evident
mortification of the bull in being so narrowly dodged.
He was very expert in keeping the small tree between him
and it; and as the circle in which he ran was much
smaller than that in which the bull was compelled to
move, his task was easy.  The furious animal pushed
first with one horn then with the other; he ran
suddenly and violently; he pawed the earth, and bellowed
with rage; his eyes flashed and his mouth foamed, but it
was in vain.  Soon Riley watched his opportunity, and
glided nimbly from that tree to one nearer the boat; then
to another and another; the bull following with every
demonstration of impotent rage.  This was done merely
to teaze.  Finally becoming wearied with this profitless,
though amusing sport, he gathered a handful of sand, and
provoking the bull to push at him again, forced a part of
the sand into one eye, and the remainder into the other,
and then left him perfectly blinded for the time, and
rushing madly from place to place, while Riley came
laughing to the beach, and delivered his message.

"Coolly and cleverly done!" said Dr. Gordon, at the
end of the contest.  "That is certainly a new idea, in
the way of involuntary bull baiting, which is worth
remembering.  But I advise you young folks not to try it,
except in case of a similar necessity.  It is safer to
climb a tree or fence, or even to plunge into the water."

"Riley had no other chance," remarked Harold.

"He had not," Dr. Gordon rejoined, "and therefore
I regard his expedient as valuable.  Should you be
pursued in an open field, the danger would be still greater.
Then the best plan would be to *detain* the beast by
something thrown to attract his attention.  Cattle are made
very quickly angry by the sight of a red garment.  If
anything of this colour, such as a shawl or pocket
handkerchief can be dropped when you are pursued by one,
it will be almost certain to catch his eye, and to engage
him awhile in goring it.  If nothing red can be dropped,
then let him have something else from your person--a
hat, coat, or a spread umbrella--in fact anything
calculated to attract his eye."

"I have heard," observed Robert, "of jumping upon
a bull's back, as he stooped his head to toss."

"So have I," his father added, "but spare me if you
please, the necessity; none but a monkey, or a person of
a monkey's agility can do it successfully.  I should
sooner risk the chance of springing suddenly behind
him, and seizing his tail.  At least I should like to
administer that sound belabouring with a stick which he
would so richly deserve, and which might teach him better
manners."

"Or to twist his tail," said Harold merrily.  "I believe
that will make a bull bellow, as soon as putting sand
into his eyes.  And what is better, you can keep on
twisting, until you are sure than his manners are
thoroughly taught."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`VIII`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER VIII

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   MAROONING AND THE MAROONING PARTY

.. vspace:: 2

The work of house-building and improvement
now went forward with visible rapidity.  By
the first day of October, the new dwelling-house
was sufficiently advanced to allow the family to move
into it; and in a fortnight more, the new kitchen was
covered, and such other changes made, in and about the
house, as to give it quite a genteel and comfortable
appearance.  As it became necessary about this time for
the workmen to attend to some inside work, which could
be more easily accomplished by having the family out of
the way, Dr. Gordon stopped the young people after
school, and said to them:

"Children, I have a proposition to make.  But before
doing so, who can tell me what 'marooning' means?"

All turned their eyes to Robert, whom they regarded
as a sort of walking dictionary; and he answered with
a slight hesitation--"I should say, living pretty much in
the way we have lived most of the time since we came
to Bellevue.  A person maroons when he lives in an
unsettled state."

"You are nearly right; but to be more critical.  The
word 'maroon' is of West Indian origin--coming I think
from the island of Jamaica.  It meant at first a free
negro.  But as those who ran away from their masters
became virtually free for the time, it came afterwards to
mean a runaway negro.  To maroon therefore means to
go from home and live like a runaway negro.  I wish
to ask if any one present is in favour of marooning?"

All were silent, and Dr. Gordon continued, "To
maroon means also to go to some wild place, where there is
plenty of game or fish, and to live upon what we can
obtain by our own skill.  Are there any persons now in
favour of marooning?"

"I am--and I--and I!" was the universal response.
"When shall it be?  Where shall it be?"

"You are too fast," said the Doctor.  "I have one of
two propositions to make.  We must for a few days give
up the house to the workmen.  Now the question to be
decided is, Shall we return to Fort Brooke, and spend
our time among the guns and cannons; or shall we go to
Riley's Island at the mouth of the bay, and spend it
among the deer and turkeys, the fish and oysters, of
which we have heard so much?  There are advantages
and disadvantages on both sides; and my own mind is so
perfectly balanced that I will leave the decision to you."

Harold's eyes flashed fire at the prospect of his old
employment; still he said nothing; he waited to know
what the others preferred.  Robert looked at him, and
in a moment caught the contagion.  Indeed it seemed as
if a sort of mesmeric influence had swayed the whole
party, for they did nothing more than exchange with
each other one hurried glance, and then unanimously
cried out, "Riley's Island!  Riley's Island!"

"Remember," said Dr. Gordon, "that in marooning
we must wait upon ourselves.  William is the only
servant I can take.  His time will be fully occupied with
cooking, and other duties belonging to the tent.  We
cannot depend on him for anything more than is absolutely
necessary.  Are you still of the same mind?"

"The same!" they all replied.

"Still I will not hold you to your promises until you
have had further time for reflection," said he.  "You
may not have looked at all the difficulties of the case.
I will give you until dinner-time to make up your minds;
and to help your thoughts, I will assign to each of you
an office, and make you responsible for providing all
things necessary for a week's excursion, to begin in the
morning.

"Harold, I appoint you master of the hunting and
fishing departments.

"Robert shall be sailing-master, and provide for the
literature of the party.

"Mary shall be housekeeper still, and mistress of the
stores.

"And Master Frank shall be--I know not what to make
him, unless *supercargo*."

"Now I wish you each to sit down at your leisure,
and make out a written list, to be presented to me at
dinner-time, of all things needed in your several departments."

They responded very heartily, and were about to
retire, when Dr. Gordon, observing a comical expression
on Frank's face, said, "What is the matter, Frank?  Are
you not willing to be supercargo?"

"I do not know what supercargo is," answered Frank,
"unless it is somebody to catch rabbits.  But I know
how to do that.  So I mean to take my dog and hatchet,
and a box of matches."

"Well done, Frank," said his father; "you have the
marooning spirit if you do not know what supercargo is.
But where did you learn the art of catching rabbits?"

"Oh, I learnt it from cousin Harold," said he.  "We
got a rabbit into a hollow tree, and caught him there.
*I* caught him, father, with my own hand; I know exactly
how to catch a rabbit."

"Very well, Mr. Supercargo, carry what you will.
But go along all of you, and be ready with your lists
against dinner-time."

They retired in great glee to plan out and prepare.
Robert and Harold, having first gone to the beach to
think alone, were to be seen, half an hour afterwards,
in their room, busily engaged with pencil in hand.  At
this time Frank came in.  He had been almost frantic
with joy at the prospect of the change; and after
having romped with his dog Fidelle and the goats in the
yard, he had come to romp with any one who would join
him in the house.

"Brother Robert and cousin Harold," said he, "what
are you doing?  Are you writing? are you ciphering? are
you studying?  Why do you not answer me?"  He
was evidently in a frolic.

"Go to your play, Frank, and do not bother us,"
returned Robert, impatiently; "we are thinking."

"I know you are; for father said we are thinking all
the time we are awake, and sometimes while we are
asleep.  But I want to know what you are thinking
about so hard."

"Don't you know," Harold answered, mildly, "that
we are going to Riley's Island tomorrow, and that Robert
and I have to make out a list of what we are to carry?
We are making our lists."

"Ah ha! but I have to carry some things too," said he.
"Father is going to let me catch the rabbits there; and
he called me a ----, some kind of a ----; I forget the
name, but it means the person to catch rabbits.  What is
the name, brother?"

"Supercargo?"

"Yes, that's it--supercargo.  Mustn't I think of
something too?"

"Certainly," replied Harold, humouring the joke.
"But the way *we* did, was first to go off by ourselves, and
think of what we were to carry; then to come in and
write off our lists.  Do you go now and think over yours,
and when you come in I will write it for you."

Frank went out, but he was not gone long.  He insisted
on having his list made out at once.

"What do you wish to carry?" Harold asked.  Frank
told him.

"Now," said Harold, "I will make a bargain with
you.  If you do not trouble us before we have finished
our work, I will write your list for you so that you
yourself can read it.  Will you stay out now?"

"That I will.  But can you write it so that I can read it?"

"Yes, and will not print it either."

"Well, then you must be a very smart teacher, almost
as smart as the foxes; for father has been teaching me
this summer to make writing marks, but I have never
made one of the writing marks yet."

Harold however persisted in his promise, and he and
Frank were as good as their several words.  Frank, it
is true, did creep on tip-toe, and peep through the crack
of the door, but he disturbed nobody; and when at last
the boys came out, Harold presented him with a folded
paper, which he instructed him to put into his pocket,
and not to open till the lists were called for.

At the appointed hour they all assembled.  The meal
passed pleasantly off; not an allusion had as yet been
made to the proposed excursion.  It was a part of
Dr. Gordon's training to practise his children in
self-restraint.  He could however discern by their looks that
their decisions remained as before.  Said he, "I presume
you have all made up your minds to the marooning
party; am I correct?"

"O yes, sir, yes," was the answer, "and we are all
ready to report, not excepting Frank and William."

"Really, you have done wonders!  But let me call upon
you each in turn.  Harold McIntosh, you are hunting
and fishing-master.  Let me hear your report."

Harold took from his pocket a piece of paper about as
broad as his hand, and a little longer.  Besides the arms,
ammunition and appurtenances, fishing-hooks, lines and
nets, he closed his list with reading "brimstone."

"And what use," asked his uncle, "do you expect
to make of that?"

"Taking bee-trees," he replied.  "Brimstone is used
in driving bees from the honey."

"Whether we meet with bee-trees or not, the brimstone
will be in nobody's way; let it go.  Mr. Hunting-master
your list is perfect.  Now Robert, yours."

His list embraced all that the boat would need for
comfort, or for repair in case of accident.  The books
selected had reference to the taste of each.  Shakespeare
for his father, Goldsmith's Natural History for Harold,
Scott's Napoleon for himself, Robinson Crusoe and
Botany for his sister, and (in a spirit of mischief) Old
Mother Hubbard for Frank.

But Frank was quite indignant at what he knew to be
an insinuation against his childish taste.  "I will not
have old Mother Hubbard for my book," he said, as
soon as he heard the list read.  "I have passed that long
ago; I wanted to carry Jack the Giant Killer."

"Scratch out Mother Hubbard," said his father to
Robert, "and put down Jack.  Your list, Master Robert, is
pretty good; but I shall take the liberty of adding several
volumes to the stock, in case of bad weather.  And
beside this, I should advise you all to carry your pocket
Testaments, that you may continue your plan of daily
reading.  I should be sorry, and almost afraid, to let our
sports interfere with our devotions."

Up to this time Frank had been listening to what
had been read or spoken.  But now, on a sign from
Harold, he took a paper from his pocket, and, looking at
its contents, commenced capering round the room,
saying, "I *can* read it--I can read every word of it!"

"Read what?" asked his father.

"My list," replied Frank, "that cousin Harold wrote
for me.  I can read it all!"

"Then let us have it."

.. _`pictures of items on the list`:

.. figure:: images/img-059.jpg
   :align: right
   :alt: pictures of items on the list

   pictures of items on the list

"Here," said he, "is my hatchet."

"And here is my bow and arrows."

"And here is my dog; only it
is not half so pretty as Fidelle."

"And down here at the bottom--that
is--that is--I believe it
is--either a block or a brick-bat.
O, now I remember, it is my box of matches."

"Bravo, Frank," said his father, "you do credit to
your teacher.  I doubt whether I could myself have
guessed what that last thing was intended for.  Your
list may pass also.

"Now, Miss Mary, let us have yours.  You have had
more to think of than all the others put together, and
yet I'll warrant you are nearly as perfect in proportion."

Mary blushed to hear the commendation bestowed upon
her on trust, and replied, "I doubt it, father.  For
though it is very long, I am all the while thinking of
something else to be added, and I am pretty sure there is
a great deal yet that I have forgotten."  She then read
her own list, containing about thirty-five articles, and
William's, embracing half a dozen more; upon which her
father continued to bestow praise for the house-wifery
they showed, and to each of which he made some slight
additions.

"Now, William," said he, "do you select two moderately
sized boxes, and aid Miss Mary to pack everything
in her line so as not to crowd the boat.  Remember, too,
to put in for Riley a half bushel of salt, a loaf of sugar,
and a peck of wheat flour.  Pack the boat, and have it
complete this evening, however late it should take you,
that there may be no delay in the morning."

They were no sooner dismissed from table than all
went vigorously to work.  Guns were cleaned--hooks and
lines examined--boxes packed--all things being done by
classes.  Then each person put up an extra suit or two
of clothing, in case of accidents.  And so expeditiously
did the work go forward, that by five o'clock that
evening the boat was ready for her trip.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`IX`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER IX

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   EMBARKATION--ABDUCTION EXTRAORDINARY--EFFORTS TO
   ESCAPE--ALTERNATE HOPES AND FEARS--DESPAIR--VESSEL
   IN THE DISTANCE--RENEWED HOPES AND
   EFFORTS--WATER-SPOUT--FLASH OF LIGHTNING AND ITS
   EFFECTS--MAKING FOR SHORE--GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

.. vspace:: 2

Many visions that night danced before the
young sleepers--prancing deer with bright
eyes and branching horns; turkeys running,
flying, fluttering; white tents, mossy beds, and all the
wild scenes of woodland life.  They were up and dressed
at daybreak.  The wind was fair, and the day promised
to be fine.  Frank's little feet were pattering over the
whole house and yard, carrying him into everybody's
way, on the pretence of rendering assistance.  There
was one useful suggestion which he made.  He had gone
to each room and corner in the house, saying "good-bye"
to every person and thing, chairs, tables, and all, when at
last he came to his father's cloak and umbrella, kept in
the same corner.

"Good-bye, umbrella," said he, "but as for you, good
Mr. Cloak, father will want you to sleep on.  Poor
umbrella! are you not sorry?  Don't you want to go
too?  But, father!" he cried, running into the next room,
"had we not better carry the umbrella?  Maybe we shall
need it."

"That is a good idea, Master Frank," said his father.
"Do you take charge of the umbrella, as a part of your
office, and see it put into the boat."

Frank ran back to the room he had left, and taking
the umbrella from its corner, he said, "O ho, my little
fellow, father says you may go.  Are you not glad I
asked for you?  But you must be a good boy, and not put
yourself in anybody's way.  Come now, spread your
wings, and let me see how glad you look."

He opened the umbrella, and flapped it several times
to make it look lively, then closed it, and set it beside the
cloak where it belonged.  Presently he heard the tinkle
of a little silver bell, and knew that it was the signal
for family prayers.  He went to the breakfast-room, and
took his seat.

Dr. Gordon's children were well versed in the Scriptures,
and were remarkably attentive during the reading
of them.  Perhaps one secret of this fact was to be
found in their father's practice of stopping every few
verses during the family reading to ask them questions
on what had been read, and briefly to explain what they
could not otherwise comprehend.  This morning the
children observed that the chapter read was remarkably
appropriate to their circumstances, and that the Doctor
prayed particularly that the Lord would preserve them
from all sin and harm during their excursion; that he
would preside over their pleasures, and that he would
make their temporary absence the means of their
knowing him better, and loving him more.

They breakfasted as the sun was rising.  While at
table no one could speak of anything but the voyage
and the island, and what they expected to see, do, and
enjoy.  The boat was at the wharf, which had been
erected for the brig.  It was packed, and ready for
departure, with the exception of a few things to be carried
by hand.  William had breakfasted at the same time
with the family, and now came in, saying, "All ready, sir."

"Come, children," said Dr. Gordon, "let us go."

"Come, umbrella," said Frank, "you are to go with me."

"O, father," exclaimed Mary, as they approached the
shore, "there is Nanny with her sweet little kids.  See
how anxiously she looks at the boat, and tries to say,
'Do let me go too.'  Had we not better take her?  She
is so tame; and then you are so fond of milk in your
coffee."

"I doubt," he replied, "whether there will be room for
dogs, goats, and ourselves too.  But we can easily
determine; and as I know that all of you are as fond of
milk as I am, I will let her go if there is room."

They took their places, Dr. Gordon at the helm,
Robert and Harold amidships, Mary and Frank next to their
father, and William in the bow.  Everything had been
stowed so snugly away, and the boat was withal so
roomy, that Nanny and her kids were invited to a place.

"Now, children, for order's sake," said Dr. Gordon,
"I will assign the bow of the boat, where William is, to
Nanny and her kids; Fidelle must lie here by Frank and
Mum may go with Harold.  Mary, call your pet, and
have her in her place."

A word about the dogs.  Fidelle was a beautiful and
high-blooded spaniel, that might have been taught
anything which a dog could learn, but whose only
accomplishments as yet were of a very simple character, and
confined chiefly to such tricks as were a source of
amusement to her little master.  Mum was a large, ugly,
rough-looking cur, whose value would never have been suspected
from his appearance.  He was brave, faithful, and
sagacious; strong, swift-footed, and obedient.  But his
chief value consisted in his education.  He came from the
pine barrens of Georgia, where Dr. Gordon had first seen
and purchased him, and where he had been trained,
according to the custom of the wild woodsmen there, to
hunt silently; and in following the trail of a deer or
turkey to keep just in advance of his master, and to give
suitable indications of being near the object of pursuit.
Mum was no common dog; and he proved of inestimable
service to the young adventurers in their coming difficulties.

"Draw in the anchor, William, while I cast off at the
stern," said Dr. Gordon.  "But hold! let us see what
that means."  He pointed with his finger to a horseman,
who turned a point on the beach, and seeing them about
to depart, waved his hat to say "stop!"  The horseman
rode at full speed, and soon was within speaking distance.
He bore a note from the surgeon at Fort Brooke,
requesting the loan of a certain instrument which Dr. Gordon
had promised when on his visit, and for which there
was now a sudden call.

"Keep your places, children," said the Doctor.  "I
shall be gone only five minutes.  William, do you take
my place, and keep the boat steady by holding to this
frame."

He ascended the wharf, went with the soldier to the
house, and was absent a very few minutes; but during
that interval an event occurred which separated them for
a long, long time and made them oftentimes fear that
they should never more meet in this world.

The position of the boat at the wharf was peculiar.
Her stern had been lashed to the timbers, for the
purpose of keeping it steady, until all had entered; and the
bow was kept to its place by the anchor dropped into the
two and half fathoms water, which "was had" there
at high tide.  The fastening to the stern having been
cast off, preparatory to leaving, William was now
holding to the wharf, awaiting his master's return.

This was not long after sunrise, at which moment they
had heard the report of a cannon unusually loud from
the fort.  Scarcely had Dr. Gordon disappeared from
the bluff, when the young people noticed a heavy ripple
of the water, between them and the fort, indicating that
it was disturbed by a multitude of very large fish,
moving with rapidity towards the sea.

"What can they be?" was a question which all asked,
with a curiosity not unmixed with fear, as they looked
upon the approaching waves.  William held firmly to
the pier head, that the boat should not be moved too
roughly by the disturbed water.

"Mas' Robert," said he, with anxious, dilating eyes,
"I do believe it is a school of dem debbil-fish.  Yes," and
his eyes grew wild and his lips became ashy, "dey making
right for dis pint."[#]

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] The following is a description of the hideous monster known
   in our waters as the Devil Fish.

.. class:: noindent small

   It is a flat fish, belonging to the family of Rays, and usually
   measures somewhere between ten and twenty feet from tip to tip
   of its wings.  On each side of its mouth is a flexible arm, with
   which the animal grasps and feeds.  It appears to be as remarkable
   for its stupidity as it is for its size, strength, and ugliness,
   seldom letting go anything which it once seizes with its arms.
   A few years since, one was discovered dead upon a mud flat near
   St. Mary's, Georgia, grasping even in death a strong stake of
   which it had taken hold during high water.  The incident
   related in the following pages is in perfect keeping with the habits
   of the fish.  There are hundreds of persons now living, who
   recollect a similar adventure which took place in the bay of
   Charleston.  On every occasion of serious alarm the fish makes for the
   deep water of the ocean, and sometimes so frantically as to run
   high and dry ashore.

.. class:: noindent small

   Whoever wishes to read more on this subject, can do so by
   referring to a volume called "Carolina Sports," in which the author
   (Hon. William Elliott), sketches with lively and graphic pen
   some most adventurous scenes, in which he himself was principal
   actor.

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The children sprang to their feet, and made a rush
to the stern, in the effort to get out of the boat, but
William put his hand against them, and exclaimed
piteously, "Back!  Mas' Robert--Mas' Harrol!  All of you!
You habn't time to git out!  Here dey come!  Down
on your seats!  For massy's sake, down! ebery body!"

They were about to obey, when there was a whirl,
and then a jerk of the boat, that threw them flat on
their faces.  They heard William's voice crying hoarsely,
"O Lord hab----;" and when they arose and looked
around, they saw that he was missing, and that their
boat was rushing onward with a swiftness that made
the water boil.

"William!  William!" Robert called in bewilderment;
but no answer came, and they saw him no more.

"O mercy!  Brother Robert! cousin Harold!" cried
Mary, "what is the matter?"

Robert looked vacantly towards the receding shore.
Harold answered, "One of these fish has tripped our
anchor, and is carrying us out to sea."

The horrid truth was evident; and it sent a chill like
death through their limbs and veins.  Mary screamed
and fell back senseless.  Robert started up as though
about to spring from the boat.  Harold covered his face
with his hands, gave one groan, then with compressed
lips and expanded nostrils hastened to the bow of the
boat.  As for poor little Frank, it was not for some
moments that he could realize the state of the case;
but when he did, his exhibition of distress was affecting.
He stretched his hands towards home; and as he saw
his father running to the bluff, he called out, "O, father,
help us--dear father!  O send a boat after us!
O----!"  Perceiving his father fall upon his knees and
clasp his hands in prayer, he cried out, "O, yes, father,
pray to God to help us, and he will do it--God can help
us!"  Then falling upon his own knees, he began, "O
God bless my father and mother, my brothers and
sisters!  O God help us!"

By this time the boat had passed fully half a mile
from shore.  Harold's movement forward had been made
with the intention of doing something, he knew not what,
to relieve the boat from the deadly grasp of the devil
fish.  He first seized his rifle, and standing upon the
forward platform, aimed it at the back of the monster,
which could be distinctly seen at two fathoms' distance,
clutching the chain which constituted their cable.
Despairing of reaching him with a ball through the
intervening water, he laid aside the rifle, and seizing
William's ax, aimed several lusty blows at the cable
chain.  He struck it just on the edge of the boat where
there was the greatest prospect of breaking it; but the
chain was composed of links unusually short and strong,
and the blows of the ax served only to sink it into the
soft wood of the boat.

"Robert," said he, "look for Frank's hatchet, and
come here."  But Robert, stupefied with fear, sat staring
at him from beside his prostrate sister and weeping
brother, and seemed neither to understand nor to hear.

"Robert," he repeated, "get up, and be a man.  Bring
Frank's hatchet, and help me break this chain."

Still he did not come.  "It is no use, Harold," he
replied.  "Do you not see that sister is dead?  William
is dead too!  We shall all die!"

"Robert!  Robert!" he reiterated, almost with a threat,
"do rouse up and be a man.  Mary is not dead, she has
only fainted; she will come to directly.  Come here and
help me."

As he said, "She has only fainted," Robert sprang
from his seat, took off his cap, dipped it full of water,
poured it on her face, rubbed her palms and wrists to
start the blood into circulation, then blew in her face,
and fanned her with his wet cap.  In the course of a
minute Mary began to breathe, and then to sigh.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed, "she *has* only fainted! she
is coming to!  Frank, do you fan her now and I
will help Harold."

But Harold had helped himself.  Going to Frank's
parcel, he had taken out the hatchet, and returned to
the bows, where he was now adjusting the ax,
preparatory to his work.  "There, Robert," on his coming
up, "do you hold the ax firmly under the chain, while
I strike this link with the hatchet."

He did so, and Harold struck a blow upon the chain,
so heavy that it rang again.  Instantly they staggered,
said fell backwards in the boat.  The sharp sound of
the hatchet upon the links had been conveyed along the
metal to the fish, and made it dart forward with a sudden
jerk.  Harold rose, and looked on a moment.  "We
can't help his being frightened, Robert.  We must break
the chain.  Let us try again."

He struck blow after blow, though the fish seemed to
be affected by each as by an electric shock.  Robert held
back his arm.  "Stop! stop!  Harold, we are sinking!"

It was even so.  The fish, frightened by the sharp
repeated sounds, had gone down so far as to sink the bow
of the boat within a few inches of the water.  But
Harold was not to be stopped.  With an almost frantic
laugh, he looked fiercely at the slimy monster beneath,
then at his pale companions, and raised his arm for
another blow.  "Robert," said he, "it must be so.  We
must break the chain or die."  He struck again, again,
and again, until the water began to ripple over the bow,
and splash upon his hand.  He stopped, and tears came
into his eyes.

"Look, Harold, at the staple," said Robert.  "Let
us see if that cannot be started."  They tried it, striking
from side to side, but in vain.  The boat was too well
made; the staple was too large, and too firmly imbedded
in the timbers to be disturbed; and, moreover, it was
guarded by an iron plate all around.  Harold decided
it was easier to break the chain.  "Is there not a file,
nor even a chisel among the tools?" he asked.  They
rummaged among the several boxes and parcels, but no
tools of the kind could be found; and then they sat down
pale, panting, and dispirited.

By this time the boat had passed out of the bay.
The persons on shore, the houses, indeed the very trees
which marked the place of their abode, had faded
successively from sight.  They had been running through
the water at a fearful rate, for an hour and a half, and
were now in the broad open gulf, moving as madly as
before.  The frightened fish, alarmed at these repeated
noises in the boat, and grasping still more convulsively
the chain which was to it an object of terror, had
outstripped its hideous companions, and after passing from
the bay had turned towards the south.

"There is Riley's Island!" said Robert, pointing sadly
to a grove of tall palmettoes, which they were passing.
"And yonder is a boat, near shore, with a man in it.
O, if Riley could see us, and come after us!  And yet
what if he did!  No boat can be moved by wind or
paddle as we are moving."  After a few minutes he
resumed: "There is one plan yet which we have not
tried; it is to saw the chain in two with pieces of crockery.
I have read of marble being cut with sand, and of
diamonds being cut with horse hair.  And I think that if we
work long enough we can cut the chain in two with a
broken plate.  Shall we try it?"

"O, yes, try anything," Harold replied, "But,"
looking at the flapping wings and horrible figure of the
fish, and grinding his teeth, "if he would come near
enough to the surface, I should try a rifle ball in his
head."

They broke one of the plates, and commenced to saw.
Harold worked for half an hour, then gave it to Robert,
who laboured faithfully.  Had they been able to keep
the link perfectly firm, and also to work all the time
precisely on one spot, they might possibly have
succeeded.  But after two hours' hard work, the only result
was that they had brightened one of the links by rubbing
off the rust and a little of the metal.

"O, this will never, never do!" exclaimed Harold.
"It will take us till midnight to saw through this chain,
and then we shall be upon the broad sea, without any
hope of returning home.  Robert, I am done!  My hands
are blistered!  My limbs are sore!  I have done what I
could!  And now the Lord have mercy upon us!"

Up to that moment Harold had been the life and soul
of the exertions made.  His courage and energy had
inspired the rest with confidence.  But now that his
strong spirit gave way, and he sunk upon his seat, and
burst into tears, it seemed that all hope was gone.
Robert threw down his piece of plate, and went to seat
himself by Mary, in the hinder part of the boat.  Frank
had long since cried himself to sleep, and there he lay
sobbing in his slumbers, with his head in Mary's lap.
Mary was still pale from suffering and anxiety; having
recovered by means of the water and fanning, she had
summoned her fortitude and tried to comfort Frank with
the hope that Harold and Robert would succeed in
breaking the chain, and then that they would spread
their beautiful sail, and return home.  When Robert
took his seat, Frank awakened, and asked for water.

"Sister Mary," said he, "where is father?  I thought
he was here."

"No, buddy," she replied, her eyes filling to think
that he had awakened to so sad a reality, "father is at
home."

"O, sister," said he, "I dreamed that father was with
us, that he prayed to God to help us, and God made the
fish let go, and we all went home.  Brother Robert, have
you broken that chain?"

This last appeal was too much for Robert's fortitude,
tried already by repeated disappointments.  He covered
his face with his cap, and his whole body shook with
emotion.

"Brother Robert," said Mary, speaking through her
own tears, "you ought not to give up so.  The fish is
obliged to let go some time or other, and then may be
some ship will pass by, and take us up.  Remember how
long people have floated upon broken pieces of a wreck,
even without anything to eat, while we have plenty to
eat for a month.  Brother Robert and cousin Harold, do
try to be comforted."

She obtained the water for Frank, and gave him
something to eat.  "Brother," she added, "you and cousin
Harold have worked hard, and eaten nothing.  Will you
not take something?  There are some nice cakes."  Both
declined.  "Well, here is some water.  I know you must
be thirsty."

Harold was so much surprised to see a girl of Mary's
age and gentle spirit exercising more self-control than
himself, that he was shamed out of his despair.  He did
not then know that trait in the female character, which
fits her to comfort when the stronger spirit has been
overwhelmed.  He drank a mouthful of the water.  She
handed it also to Robert, but he pushed it way, saying,
"No, sister, I do not want anything now.  We have done
all that we could, and yet--."

"No, brother," she replied, "not at all.  There is
one thing more that you have not even tried to do; and
that may help us more than anything else.  It is to
pray to God to help us."

"O, yes, brother," Frank added, "don't you recollect
what father read to us out of the Bible, and talked to
us about?  What is it, sister?"

"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the
Lord will take me up," Mary recited.

"Yes, brother," he continued, "remember that father
prayed for us, when he saw us going off.  And sister
and I have been praying here, while you and cousin
Harold were working yonder.  Brother Robert, God *will*
take care of us, if we pray to him."

"What Frank says is true, brother," said Mary.  "He
and I have been praying most of the time that you were
working.  And now see the difference! when you two
have given up everything, he and I are quiet and hoping.
Brother Robert, we all ought to pray."

"I do pray--I have prayed," replied Robert.

"That may be," persisted Mary, "but what I mean
is, that we all ought to pray together."

"I cannot pray aloud," Robert answered; "I never
did it.  I do not know how to do it.  But we can all
kneel down together, and pray silently that God will
have mercy on us.  Harold, will you join us in kneeling
down?"

As they were rising for this purpose, Frank called
out, "Brother, what is that yonder?  Isn't it a boat
coming to meet us?"

Their eyes turned in the direction of Frank's finger
and it was plain that a sail had heaved into the offing far
away to the south, and almost in their course.  The sun
shone upon the snow-white canvas.  "God be praised!"
exclaimed Robert; "that is a vessel!  Who knows but
we may yet meet her, and be saved!  Let us kneel down,
and pray God to be merciful to us."  They did so; and
when they rose from their knees the vessel was evidently
nearer.

"Let us try her with the spy glass," said Robert, and
drawing it out to its proper length, he gazed steadily at
her for a minute.  "That is a schooner, or rather an
hemaphrodite brig.  I can see her sails and masts.  She
is rigged like a revenue cutter, and seems also to have
the rake of one.  She is coming this way, and if she is a
cutter, she is almost certainly bound for Tampa, and
can take us home again."

How rapidly characters appear to shift with shifting
circumstances!  Mary and Frank, who but a minute
before were the only ones calm and disposed to speak
in tones of energy and hope, now began to weep and
lose all self-control; while Robert and Harold, shaking
off their despondency, sprang to their feet, and with
bright eyes and ready limbs, prepared once more for
effort.  Harold seized the glass, and looked long and
steadily.  "She is coming to us, or we are going to her
very fast," said he.  "Perhaps both; and now what shall
we do?"

"Rig up a signal, and load the guns," replied Robert.
"Let us attract their attention as soon as possible.
Quick, sister, get me a sheet!"

In the course of fifteen minutes they had the sheet
rigged and floating; and by the time the guns were
loaded, they could clearly discern not only the hull, but
the port holes of the vessel, and her long raking masts.
There was no further doubt that she was a revenue
cutter bound for the bay.  Still it became every moment
more certain that without some change in the course
of one or the other, they must pass at a considerable
distance.  Now what should they do?  The sky, which
had been gradually clouding over since they saw the
vessel, began to be rapidly and heavily overcast as they
approached.  Fearful that rain might fall, and utterly
obscure their signal before it was seen, the boys resolved
to fire their guns, ere there was any reasonable hope
that they could be heard.  At the first discharge the fish,
which had probably been frightened in the morning by
the cannon at the fort, jerked so terribly as almost to
unseat them.  At the discharge of the remaining guns
it seemed less and less alarmed, until finally it ceased
darting altogether; its strength was failing.  Soon
afterwards they saw the smoke of two cannon from the
vessel, and then a flag run up the mast.  "They see us!
They see us!" cried Robert and Mary.

"But can they help us?" asked Harold.  "Here we
are running between them and shore, faster than any
vessel can sail except in a storm, and there is scarcely
wind enough to fill their sails, and what there is is
against their coming to our aid.  Robert, we must break
that chain, or yet all is lost."

There was apparently some bustle on board the cutter.
Many persons could be distinguished by the glass looking
at them and at the clouds.  They were preparing to
lower a boat, yet with manifest hesitation.  This was
immediately explained by the singular appearance of
the cloud between the boat and the vessel.  It had
become exceedingly dark and angry.  A portion in the
middle assumed the shape of a trumpet, and descended
with the sharp point toward the water; while a broad
column ascended from the sea to meet it; and then sea
and sky roared and tossed in terrible unison.

"It is a water-spout!" said Robert, "if it strikes the
vessel she is gone.  Look there, Harold, look!"

The cutter began to give sensible evidence of the
whirling eddy.  Her sails flapped and her masts reeled.
Soon they heard boom! boom! the roar of two more
cannon.  They were for the purpose of breaking the
threatening column.  They saw the descending pillar
gradually ascend, and spread itself into a dark mass of
cloud, which poured out such a shower of rain as entirely
to hide the vessel from sight.  Afterwards they heard
another cannon.  "That is for us," Robert said; "let
us answer it as well as we can."

They fired gun after gun, and heard cannon after
cannon in reply, but each fainter than before.  Their
last hope of being saved by the vessel was gone.  She
was far away, and hidden by the rain which enveloped
her.  There had been no rain upon themselves, but it
was very dark overhead, and threatened both rain and
wind.  They were far enough from home--how far they
could not conceive, and far too from the barely visible
shore, upon the broad wild sea.  The boys were relapsing
rapidly into that moody despair which is so natural
after strong yet fruitless exertion, when a sharp flash of
lightning struck in the water about one hundred yards
before them.  So near was it, and so severe, that they
were almost blinded by the blaze, and stunned by the
report.  Their boat instantly relaxed its speed, and
was soon motionless upon the water.  The boys rushed
to the bow.  Their cable hung perpendicularly down,
and the fish was nowhere to be seen.  It had darted back
from the lightning flash, and the cable had slipped
quietly from its grasp.

"Thank God we are loose!" burst triumphantly from
Robert.  Harold looked on with strong emotion.  Once
more tears gathered in his eyes.  "Robert," said he, "I
never did make pretension to being a Christian, or a
praying person, but if we do not thank God all of us
for this when we get ashore, we do not deserve to live."

"Amen!" said Robert; and Mary and Frank responded, "Amen!"

The shore was full seven miles away.  It was probably
wild and barren.  It might be difficult of approach, and
inhospitable after they should land.  But gladly did
they draw aboard their anchor, raise their sail, and
make toward it.  The sea was smooth, but there was
wind enough to fill their sails, and give promise of their
reaching the shore ere night.  Robert took the helm,
and Harold managed the sails.  Mary once more brought
out her cakes and other eatables.  Frank laughed from
very pleasure; and seldom, if ever, was a happier
looking company to be seen, going to a strange and perhaps a
hostile coast.

Far as the eye could reach, to the north and south,
there was a bluff of white sand, varied here and there
by a hillock, higher than the rest, which the winds had
blown up from the beach.  Before them was an inlet of
some sort--whether a small bay, the mouth of a river,
or an arm of the sea, they could not determine; it was
fringed on the south with a richly coloured forest, and
on the north by a growth of rank and nauseous
mangroves.  Into this inlet they steered, anxious only for
a safe anchorage during the night.  A little before
sunset they reached a pleasant landing-place, on the southern
shore, near the forest; and having been confined all day
to the boat, they were glad enough to relieve themselves
from their wearisome inaction, by a few minutes'
exercise on land.  Harold first ascended the bluff, and looked
in every direction to see if there was any sign of
inhabitants.  No house or smoke was visible; nothing but
an apparently untouched forest to the left, and a sandy,
sterile country to the right.

"Cousins," said he, "I think we may with safety sleep
on the beach tonight.  With our dogs to guard, nothing
can approach without our knowledge.  I am almost
afraid to anchor in the stream, lest we should be carried
off by another devil-fish."

To this proposal they agreed.  The tent was handily
contrived, requiring only a few minutes for its erection;
and while Mary and Frank drove down the tent-pins,
Harold and Robert brought into it the cloaks and
blankets for sleeping, together with their guns, and
other necessaries for comfort and safety.

As the darkness closed around them, its gloom was
relieved by the ruddy blaze of a fire, which Robert and
Harold had made with dried branches from a fallen
oak, and kindled by Frank's matches Mary soon had
some tea prepared, which they found delightfully
refreshing.  Immediately after it, Harold, whose countenance
ever since their escape from the fish had assumed a
peculiarly thoughtful expression, remarked:

"I have no doubt we all remember what we said in
the boat about being thankful; and I have no doubt that
from the bottom of our hearts we do thank God for our
deliverance; but I think we ought to say so aloud
together, and in our prayers, before we go to sleep this
night."

No one answered, and he proceeded: "Robert, if you
can speak for us, please say in our name what you know
we ought to say."

There being still no reply, except a shake of Robert's
head, Harold continued:

"Then we can at least kneel down together, and I will
say, 'Thanks to the Lord for his mercies, and may we
never forget them;' after which we can unite in the
Lord's Prayer."

They knelt down.  Harold did not confine himself to
the words just recorded; he was much more full, and
became more at ease with every word he uttered; and
when the others united with him in repeating aloud
the Lord's Prayer, as they had been accustomed to
unite with their father in family worship, it was with
an earnestness that they never felt before, and that was
perceptible in every word and tone.  That wild coast
was probably for the first time hallowed with the voice
of Christian prayer.

They made the boat secure by drawing the anchor
well upon the beach.  They spread their cloaks and
blankets upon the dry sand, and lay down to rest.  Their
dogs kept watch at the door of their tent; and they slept
soundly, and without the least disturbance, during the
whole of this their first night of exile.





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.. _`X`:

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   CHAPTER X

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   WAKING UP--GOOD RESOLUTIONS--ALARM--MAROONING
   BREAKFAST--SEARCH FOR WATER--UNEXPECTED
   GAIN--OYSTER BANK--FATE OF A RACCOON--THE PLUME
   AND FAN

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Shortly after day-light Mary was awaked by
feeling Frank put his arm round her neck.  She
opened her eyes, and seeing the white canvas
overhead, started in surprise; then the fearful history
of the preceding day rushed into her mind, and her heart
beat fast at the recollection.  She put her arm softly
round Frank's neck, drew him near to her, and kissed
him.

"Sister Mary," said he, awaking, "is this you?  I
thought it was father.  Why, sister--what house is this!
O, I remember, it is our tent."

Frank drew a long breath, nestled close to his sister,
and laid his head on her bosom.  He seemed to be
thinking painfully.  After a minute or two he sprang to
his feet, and began to dress.  Peeping through the
curtain that divided the two sleeping apartments, he said,
"Brother and cousin Harold are sleeping yet, shall I
wake them?"

"No, no," she replied.  "They must be very weary
after all their hard work and trouble.  Let us just say
our own prayers, and go out softly to look at the boat."

The first thing which greeted their eyes, on coming
to the open air, was Nanny with her kids.  The tide had
gone down during the night, leaving the boat aground,
and the hungry goat had taken that opportunity to
jump out, with her little ones, and eat some fresh grass
and leaves.

Mary's mind, as housekeeper, turned towards breakfast.
She and Frank renewed the fire, the crackling
and roar of which soon roused the others, who joined
them, and then went to the boat to see that all was safe.

No change had occurred, other than has been noticed,
except that the fulness of the dogs proved that they had
fed heartily upon something during the night; and of
course that they had proved unfaithful sentinels.  The
sight of the boat made them sad.  It told of their
distance from home, and of the dangers through which they
had passed.  For some minutes no one broke the silence;
yet each knew instinctively the other's thoughts.  Frank
finally came near to Robert, and looking timidly into his
face, said, "Brother, do you not think that father will
send somebody after us?"

"Yes, indeed; if he only knew where to send," Robert
replied in a soothing tone; "and more than that, I think
he would come himself."

"I think he *will* send," said Frank; "for I remember
that after he knelt down by the landing and prayed for
us, he turned to the man on horse-back, and pointed to
us; and then the man went back where he came from as
hard as he could gallop."

"Well, buddy," returned Robert, "if father does not
come after us, nor send for us, there is one thing we
can do--try to get back to him.  So there now"--he
stooped down, and kissed him affectionately.  Then he
and Harold walked together on the beach.

During the whole morning, as on the preceding
evening, Harold had been unusually grave and thoughtful.
"Robert," he remarked, when they were beyond the
hearing of the others, "I have been trying ever since we
rose to think what we ought to do today; but my mind
cannot fix on anything, except what we said yesterday
about being thankful, and trying to do better.  There is
no telling how long it will be before we see Bellevue
again, or what dangers we must meet.  One thing,
however, seems certain, that we ought to try and act like
good Christian people; and that part of our duty is to
have some kind of worship here, as we have been used to
having at your father's."

Robert assented, but asked, "How can we do it?  I
am not accustomed to conduct these things, nor are you."

"We can at least do this," replied Harold, whose
mind was so deeply impressed with a sense of his
obligations, that he was neither afraid nor ashamed of doing
his duty.  "We can read a chapter, verse about, morning
and evening, and repeat the Lord's prayer together."

This was so easy, so natural, and so proper, that it was
without hesitation agreed to.  Mary and Frank were
informed of it, and it was immediately put into practice.
They gathered round the fire; and as the murmur of
their prayer ascended from that solitary beach, the
consciousness that this was *their own* act of worship,
without the intervention of a minister, who is the priest of
the sanctuary, or of a parent, who is the priest of the
household, imparted a deep solemnity to their tones and
feelings.

Scarcely had they risen from their knees, before Nanny
and her kids were seen to run bleating down the bluff,
while Mum and Fidelle, having rapidly ascended at the
first alarm, gave signs of more than usual excitement.
The boys hurried up the sandy steep, gun in hand, and
looked in every direction.  Nothing was to be seen, but
Fidelle's tail was dropped with fear, and Mum's back
was bristling with rage.

"What can be the matter with the dogs?" asked Robert.

"I do not know," Harold replied.  "But we can soon
find out.  Here, Mum, hie on!"

He gave the sign of pursuit, and the two dogs ran
together, and began barking furiously at something in
an immense mossy live oak near at hand.  The boys stood
under the tree, and scrutinized every branch and mossy
tuft, without discovering anything except a coal black
squirrel, that lay flat upon a forked limb.  "You foolish
beasts!" exclaimed Harold, "did you never see a black
squirrel before, that you should be so badly frightened
at the sight of one?" then levelling his rifle at its head,
he brought it down.  It was very fat, having fed upon
the sweet acorns of the live oak, and appeared also to
be young and tender.  Harold took it back to the tent,
as an addition to their dinner, remarking, "It is the
sweetest meat of the woods."  All admired its glossy
black skin, and Frank begged for the rich bushy tail,
that he might wear it as a plume.  This little diversion,
though trifling in itself, exerted a very cheering effect
upon the elastic spirits of the young people, and made
them for a time forget their solitude and comparative
helplessness.  Had they known the country as well then
as they had occasion to know it afterwards, they would
not have felt so quiet, or have been so easily satisfied,
when they saw the signs of alarm in their brutes.

When they sat down to their simple breakfast, it
made Frank laugh to see how awkward everything
appeared.  There was no table, and of course there were
no chairs.  All sat on their heels, except Mary, who being
the lady was dignified with a seat upon a log, covered
with a folded cloak.  It was a regular marooning
breakfast.

"I think that our first business this morning is to
look for water," remarked Harold, while they were
sitting together.  "The goat seems to be very thirsty, and,
as our jug is half empty, it will not be long before we
shall be thirsty too.  But how shall we manage our
company?  Shall Mary and Frank continue at the tent,
or shall we all go together?"

"O together, by all means," said Mary, speaking
quickly.  "I do not like the way those dogs looked before
breakfast; they frightened me.  There may not be anything
here to hurt us, but if there should be, what could
Frank and I do to help ourselves?"

"Then together let us go," Robert decided.  "And
Frank, as you have nothing else to do, we will make you
*dipper master*."

They ascended the bluff, and looked in every direction,
to ascertain if possible where they might obtain what
they wished; but nowhere could they discern the first
sign or promise of water.  Far to the south as the eye
could reach, the country looked dry and sandy.
Eastward extended the river, or arm of the sea, but it
appeared to have no current, other than the daily tides,
and its shore gave no indication of being indented by
rivulets, or even by the rains.

"It will put us to great inconvenience if we are not
able to obtain fresh water," remarked Harold.  "We
shall be compelled to move our quarters without delay,
for our supply cannot last long.  However, there is no
such thing as not trying.  Which way shall we move?"

"Towards the sea," replied Robert.  "There is one
fact about a sandy coast, that perhaps you have had no
occasion to know--that *oftentimes our best water is
found on the open beach, just about high-water mark*.
I have heard father explain this fact by saying that rain
water is lighter than that which is salt; and that the rain
probably filters through the sandy soil of the coast, and
finds its vent just above the ordinary surface of the sea.
I think, therefore, our best chance for finding fresh water
is on the seashore, in the sand."

They had not proceeded far along the bluff before
they heard a loud rushing in the air, and looking up they
saw what Mary and Frank supposed to be a gang of
enormously large buzzards, flying rapidly towards the
forest, and passing very near them.  "What can they
be!" inquired Robert, in momentary doubt.  "Really,
Harold, they are turkeys! wild turkeys!"

But as he uttered the words "wild turkeys," bang! went
Harold's rifle, and down fluttered a gobler, with
his wing broken.  "Here, Mum!" he shouted; but Mum
knew his business too well to need exhortation, for by
the time the bird had scrambled to its legs Mum had
seized and held it, until Harold put an end to its
struggles by cutting off its head.

"Here now is a fine dinner," said he, lifting it, "only
feel how heavy; he is rolling fat."

"Yes, indeed," replied Robert; "and that was a quick
shot of yours, Mr. Harold--with a rifle too.  I wonder
I did not think sooner of shooting; but in truth I was
in doubt what they were, and also astonished at their
number."

"What a lovely fan his tail will make!" exclaimed
Mary, examining the rich stripes of black and brown
that marked the end of the feathers.  "We must be
sure to carry it home for--," she was going to say
"mother when she comes," but the thought of their
forlorn condition came over her, and she added
softly--"if we ever get there."

"Let us leave the turkey, hanging in this tree to
bleed, until we return," said Harold; "we must look
for water now."

They returned to the beach, and walked along the
smooth hard sands.  The tide, or rather "half tide"
(as it is called on that coast), having an ebb and flow,
each of three hours, was nearly down, and they had a
full opportunity for the proposed search.

"There is water somewhere here about, you may be
sure," said Harold, pointing to tracks of the dogs, made
during the night, and partly obliterated by the tide.
"Our dogs passed here last night before high water,
and they look as if they had had plenty both to eat and
to drink."

A quarter of a mile's walk brought them to a place,
when Robert called out, "Here is the water! and here
are our dogs' tracks, all about and in it.  Get out you
Mum!--begone Fidelle!" he added, as the dogs trotted
up, intending to drink again.  The water was good, and
in great abundance.  They quenched their thirst, and
were preparing to return for the bucket to carry home a
supply, when Harold suggested to pursue the tracks of
the dogs a little further, and learn what they had
obtained to eat.  "I perceive not far off," said he, "what
appears to be an oyster bank, but do dogs eat oysters?"

They proceeded to the spot, and found a large bank
of uncommonly fine oysters.  It was an easy task for
those who knew how to manage it, to break the mouth of
one with another and to cut the binding muscle with a
pocket-knife.  Harold shrunk aghast at the idea of
eating an oyster alive; but Robert's example was contagious,
and the assurance that this primitive mode of eating
them was the most delicious, sufficed to make every one
adopt it.  Engaged in selecting some of the finest
specimens to carry back, the others heard Frank call out, in
one of his peculiarly merry exclamations:

"Ohdy! dody!  Look here!  There is a big, black cat's
foot in this oyster's mouth.  I wonder if the cat bit off
his own foot!"

They hurried to the spot, Mary and Harold laughing
at the odd fancy, as they esteemed it, of a cat biting
off its own foot, and saw, not a cat's foot indeed, but
that of a raccoon, firmly fastened in the oyster's mouth.

"What does this mean?" Harold inquired, with wonder.

"Why, Harold," replied Robert, "did you never hear
of a raccoon being caught by an oyster?"

"Never," he answered; "but are you in earnest?"

"Certainly, in earnest as to there being such a report,"
he replied, "and this I suppose is proof of its truth.  It
is said that the raccoon is very fond of oysters, and
that when they open their mouths, at a certain time of
tide, to feed upon the scum of the water, it slips its
paw suddenly between the shells, and snatches out the
oyster before it has time to close.  Sometimes, however,
the raccoon is not quick enough, and is consequently
caught by the closing shells.  Such was probably the
case with this fellow; he came to the bank last night to
make a meal of the oysters, but was held fast until our
dogs came up and made a meal of him."

"But I doubt," said Harold, "whether dogs ever eat
raccoons.  They will hunt and worry them as they do
cats and other animals, which they never eat, at least
never except in extremity."

"Then I suppose," added Robert, "we must account
for this by another story which is told, that a raccoon,
when driven to the necessity, will actually gnaw off its
own foot."

"Really," said Harold, "this is a curiosity.  I must
take this oyster to the tent, and examine it more at my
leisure."

The young people gathered as many oysters as they
could carry in their hands, and reaching the tent about
ten o'clock, began preparing them, together with their
game, for the table.  Robert cut off the squirrel's tail
for Frank; and having drawn out the bone, without
breaking the skin, inserted a tough, slender stick, so
that when it was properly dried, Frank might use it as
a plume.  The preparation of the turkey's tail was
undertaken by Harold.  He cut off the tail-bone, with
the feathers attached, and having removed every particle
of flesh and cartilage not necessary for keeping the
feathers together, he stretched it like a fan, and spread
it in the ran to dry.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`XI`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XI

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   DISCUSSION OF PLANS--DOUBTS--DIFFERENCES OF
   OPINION--WHAT WAS AGREED UPON--BAKING A TURKEY
   WITHOUT AN OVEN--FLYING SIGNAL

.. vspace:: 2

"Really this is a fine country!" said Robert,
referring, with the air of a feasted epicure, to the
abundant marooning dinner from which he had
risen.  "Wild turkey, squirrel, and oysters!  I doubt
whether our old friend Robinson Crusoe himself fared
better than we."

"It is a fine place indeed," Harold replied; "and so
long as our powder and shot last, we might live like
princes.  But, Robert," he continued, "it is time that
we begin to determine our plan of operations.  What
shall we do?"

"Do!" echoed Robert, "why return home as soon as
possible.  What else have we to do?"

"To determine how we are to return and in what
direction."

"Then I say," Robert replied, "the same way that
we came, only a little nearer shore."

"But who can tell me the course?" Harold asked.

"Yonder," replied Frank, pointing to the sea.

"No, buddy," said Robert, "that is only our *last*
course; we came in from sea.  Home is yonder,"
pointing nearly north.

"Now, I think you are both wrong," said Harold,
"for according to my judgment home is yonder," pointing
nearly east.  "At least, I recollect that when I
was working at the chain the sun was behind us, for my
shadow fell in the water, and I do not recollect that
we have changed our course since.  So far as I know
we started west, and kept west."

"That would have carried us into the open gulf,"
returned Robert.

"And that is exactly where I think we are," Harold
affirmed.

"But there are no islands in the gulf," argued Robert,
"nor land either, after you leave Tampa, until you
reach Mexico.  And we are surely not in Mexico."

"I do not know where we are," said his cousin.  "I
only know that we left home with our faces to the
west, and that the water kept boiling under our bow
for ten long hours.  How fast we went, or what land
we have reached, I know no more than Frank does."

"But we saw islands and points of land to our left,"
Robert insisted; "it is *impossible* for us to be in the
gulf."

"Then where do you suppose we are!"

"On the coast of Florida, to the south of Tampa.
There is no other place within reach, answering the
description."

"But how do you know we are not on some island?"

"We may be on an island; but if so, it is still on the
Florida coast," Robert replied, "for there are no islands
beside these, nearer than the West Indies, and we are
surely not on any of them."

Harold shook his head.  "I cannot answer your reasoning,
for you are a better scholar than I.  We may be
where you suppose; and I confess that without your
superior knowledge of geography I should never have
conceived it; but still my impression is, that neither of
us know well enough where we are to warrant our going
far from land.  A voyage in an open boat upon a
rough sea is no trifle.  I am afraid of it.  Put me on
land, and I will promise to do as much as any other
boy of my age; but put me on sea, out of sight of land,
and I am a coward, because I know neither where I
am, nor what to do."

"But what shall we do?" Robert inquired; "we
cannot stay here for ever."

"No; but we can remain here, or somewhere else as
safe, until we better understand our case," answered
Harold.  "And who knows but in the meantime some
vessel may pass and take us home.  One passed on
yesterday."

Robert mused awhile, and replied, "I believe you
are right as to the propriety of our waiting.  Father
will certainly set all hands to work to search for us.
The vessel we saw yesterday will no doubt carry to him
the news of their seeing us going in a certain direction
at a certain time.  He will be sure to search for us
somewhere in this neighbourhood; and we had better on
that account not move far away."

Mary and Frank were attentive, though silent listeners
to this colloquy.  Mary's colour went and came with
every variation in their prospect of an immediate return.
She was anxious, principally, on her father's account.
Her affectionate heart mourned over the distress which
she knew he must then be feeling; but when she came to
reflect on the uncertainty of their position, and the
danger of a voyage, and also that her father had probably ere
this heard of them through the cutter, she was satisfied to
remain.  Poor Frank cried bitterly, when he first learnt
that they were not to return immediately; but his
cheerful nature soon rebounded, and a few words of comfort
and hope were sufficient to make him picture to himself
a beautiful vessel, with his father on board, sailing into
their quiet river, and come for the purpose of taking
them all home.

"Before we conclude on remaining *here*," said Harold.
"I think it will be best for us to sail around the island,
if it is one, and see what sort of a place it is."

This precaution was so just that it received their
immediate assent.  They fixed upon the next morning
as the time for their departure; and not knowing how
far they should go, or how long they might stay, they
concluded to take with them all that they had.

"But," inquired Mary, "what shall we do with our
large fat turkey?" (a part of it only having been
prepared for the table); "shall we cook it here, or carry
it raw?"

"Let us cook it here," said Harold; "I will show you
how to bake it, Indian fashion, without an oven."

Among the articles put up by William were a spade
and a hoe.  With these Harold dug a hole in the dryest
part of the beach; and, at his request, Robert took Mary
and Frank to the tree above, and brought down a supply
of small wood.  The hole was two and a-half feet deep
and long, and a foot and a-half wide, looking very much
like a baby's grave.  Frank looked archly at his cousin,
and asked if he was going to have a *funeral*, now that he
had a grave.  "Yes," replied Harold, "a merry one."  The
wood was cut quite short, and the hole was heaped
full; and the pile being set to burning at the top, Harold
said,

"There is another little piece of work to be done,
which did not occur to me until digging that hole.  It
is to set up a signal on the beach to attract attention from
sea."

"I wonder we did not think of that before," remarked
Robert.  "It would certainly have been an unpardonable
oversight to have left the coast, as we expect to
do tomorrow, without leaving something to show that we
are here, or in the neighbourhood."

The boys went to the grove, and cutting a long straight
pole, brought it to the tent, and made fast to it the
sheet which before had served them as a signal; after
which the company went together to the sea shore, and
planted the signal under the bluff, so that it could be
distinctly seen from sea, but would be hidden from the
land.  This place was selected for the same reason that
induced Harold to build his fire under the bluff--to
avoid hostile observation.  The young people looked up
sadly yet hopefully to this silent watchman, which was
to tell their coming friends that they were expected;
and with many an unuttered wish turned their faces
towards the tent.

.. _`The company went together to the sea shore and planted the signal`:

.. figure:: images/img-092.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: The company went together to the sea shore and planted the signal

   The company went together to the sea shore and planted the signal

The fire in the oven had by this time burnt down,
but by reason of the dampness of the earth the hole was
not hot enough.  Another supply of wood was put in,
and while it was burning our young marooners went to
the oyster bank for another supply of oysters, then to
the spring for water, and to the tree for wood.  The
labours of life were coming upon them.

A sufficient heat having been produced by the second
fire, Harold requested Robert to clear the hole of all
ashes, smoking brands, and unburnt bits of wood, while
he went once more to the grove.  He returned with a
clean white stick, about a yard long, which he used as
a spit for the turkey, resting the two ends in holes
made at each end of the oven.

It was now nearly dark.  The little company stood
around the heated hole, admiring the simple contrivance
by which their wild turkey was to be so nicely cooked,
when, to the surprise of every one, Mary burst into a
hearty laugh.  Harold asked what she meant.

"I was thinking," she replied, almost choking with
laughter, "how funny it will be tomorrow morning when
you visit your grave, and come to take out your nice
baked turkey, to find that the dogs had been to the
funeral before you."

"That is a fact," said Harold, amused at the conceit.
"I did not think of the dogs.  But do you all come with
me again for a few minutes, and I will make the oven
secure from that danger also."

He led the way up the bluff, hatchet in hand, and
loaded all with small poles and palmetto leaves.  The
poles were laid across the oven, and the palmetto leaves
spread thickly above the poles.  "I had forgotten this
part of the ceremony," said Harold.  "But this cover
is put on not so much to keep the dogs out as to keep
the heat in.  I will show you at bed time a surer way
to manage them."

"O, you will tie them up, hey?" asked Harry.

"Surely," he replied, "that is the cheapest way to
keep dogs from mischief."

Buried almost hermetically in its heated cell, the
turkey seasoned to their taste, was left to its fate for
the night.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`XII`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XII

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   RESULTS OF THE COOKERY--VOYAGE--APPEARANCE OF THE
   COUNTRY--ORANGE TREES--THE BITTER
   SWEET--RATTLESNAKE--USUAL SIGNS FOR DISTINGUISHING A
   FANGED AND POISONOUS SERPENT--VARIOUS METHODS
   OF TREATING A SNAKE BITE--RETURN

.. vspace:: 2

The morning sun found the young people preparing
to carry their resolution into effect.  When
Harold opened the oven the turkey was baked
brown as a nut, and from the now tepid hole arose an
odour, so tempting, that their appetites began to clamour
for an enjoyment that was not long delayed.

After breakfast the first work to be done was packing
the boat, during which time Harold, at the suggestion of
Robert, took Frank, and made a short tour through the
surrounding forest, for the purpose of obtaining a
breakfast for the dogs.  The bark of the dogs and crack of a
rifle soon announced that the hunters were successful,
and in less than half an hour they returned each with
a rabbit, as we Americans call the hare.  "See here,
brother Robert!  See here, sister Mary!" was the merry
chatter of Frank, the moment he came near.  "I caught
this myself.  Fidelle ran it into a hollow tree--he is a
fine rabbit dog.  Mum is good for nothing; he will not
run rabbits at all, but just stood and looked at us
while Fidelle was after it.  Cousin Harold would not
let me smoke out the rabbit, but showed me how to get
it with a switch.  Isn't it a nice fellow?"

"It is indeed," replied Robert, "and I think that
before we can return home, you will make an excellent
*supercargo*."

Scarcely a smile followed this allusion; it was too
sadly associated with the painful events of their forced
departure from home.  The packing completed, they
called in the dogs and goats, pushed from shore, raised
their sails to a favourable breeze, and moved gaily up the
river.

For a mile and a half the water over which they sailed,
lay in a straight reach, due east and west, then turned
rapidly round to the north, where its course could be
traced for many a mile by the breaks among the
mangroves.  Just where the river made its turn to the
north, a small creek opened into it from the south.  The
course of this creek was very serpentine; for a
considerable distance hugging the shore in a close embrace,
then running off for a quarter or half a mile, and after
enclosing many hundred acres of marsh, returning to
the land, within a stone's throw of the place which it
had left.

As the object of the voyagers was to explore the land,
they turned into this creek, which seemed to form the
eastern boundary of the island.  They observed that the
vegetation which was very scant and small near the sea,
increased rapidly in variety and luxuriance as they
proceeded inland.  Tall palmettoes, pines, hickories, oaks,
tulip trees, magnolias, gums, bays, and cypresses, reared
aloft their gigantic forms, their bases being concealed
by myrtles, scarlet berried cascenas, dwarf palmettoes,
gallberries, and other bushes, intermingled with bowers
of yellow jessamine, grape-vine, and chainy brier; while
a rich grass, dotted with variously coloured flowers,
spread like a gorgeous carpet beneath the magnificent
canopy.  Some of the flowers that glistened, even at this
late season, above the floor of this great Gothic temple,
were strikingly beautiful.

For five miles they followed the meanderings of the
creek, now rowing, now sailing, until at last it turned
suddenly to the east, and dividing into a multitude of
small innavigable branches became lost in the marshes
beyond.  Fortunately, however, for the explorers, the
channel terminated at an excellent landing-place, which
was made firm by sand and shells, and where, securing
their boat to a projecting root, they went ashore to
examine the character of the country.  To their surprise
they had not proceeded twenty paces before discovering
that this piece of land was only a narrow tongue, not
a half furlong wide, and that beyond it was a river in
all respects like the one they had left, coming also close
to the opposite bank, and making a good landing on that side.

"O, for strength to lift our boat over this portage!"
exclaimed Robert.  "The river, no doubt, sweeps
far around, and comes back to this point, making this
an island."

"We can settle that question tomorrow," said Harold.
"It is too late to attempt it now."

"O, brother," cried Mary, "there is an orange
tree--look! look! look!--full of ripe yellow oranges."

It was a beautiful tree, and not one only, but a cluster
of seven, scattered in a kind of grove, and loaded with
fruit, in that state of half ripeness in which the dark
green of the rind shows in striking contrast with the
rich colour called orange.  The young people threshed
down several of the ripest, and began to eat, having
first forced their fingers under the skin, and peeled it
off by patches.  But scarcely had they tasted the juicy
pulp, before each made an exceeding wry face, and
dashed the deceptive fruits away, as if they had been
apples of Sodom, beautiful without, but ashes within.
The orange was of the kind called the "bitter sweet,"
having the bitter rind and membranes of the sour, with
the pleasant juice of the sweet.

"Open the plugs, all of you, and eat it as you do
the shaddock, without touching the skin to your lips,"
said Robert.  "There is nothing bitter in the *juice*,
I recollect now that this kind of orange is said to grow
plentifully in many parts of South Florida, and also
that the lime is apt to be found in its company.  This
is another proof, Harold, that I am right as to our
whereabouts."

"Really," said Harold, "this is a splendid country.
I have another fact about it that you will be glad to
learn, and that I intended as a pleasant surprise to
you ere long.  There are plenty of *deer* here.  I saw
their signs all through the woods this morning, within
a quarter of a mile of the tent."

They gathered about a bushel of the ripest looking of
the fruit, and deposited them in the boat; then beginning
to feel hungry, they seated themselves on a green mound
of velvet-like moss at the foot of a spreading magnolia,
and there dined.  Nanny and her kids were already on
shore, cropping the rich grass, and the dogs were made
happy with the remaining rabbit.

Shortly after dinner, while the boys were cutting a
supply of grass for their goats during the voyage of
the following day, they heard the bark of Fidelle and
the growling of Mum, uttered in such decided and
angry tones as to prove that they had something at
bay, with which they were particularly displeased.
"One of us ought to go and see what those dogs are
about," remarked Robert; "and since you took your
turn this morning, I presume it is my business now."  He
had not gone long, before Harold saw him returning
with rapid steps.

"Do come here, cousin," said he, "there is the largest
king-snake I ever saw, and desperately angry.  The
dogs have driven him into a thicket of briers, and he is
fighting as if he had the venom of a thousand serpents
in his fangs.  His eyes actually flash.  I cut a stick and
tried to kill him, but it was too short, and he struck at
me so venomously, that I concluded to cut me a longer
one.  The most curious part of the business is, that there
is a large grasshopper or locust (if I may judge from
the sound), in the same thicket, making himself very
merry with the fight.  There he is now--do you not
hear him? singing away as if he would crack his sides."

"Locust!" exclaimed Harold, as soon as his quick ear
distinguished the character of the music, "you do not
call that a locust.  Why, Robert, it is the rattle of a
rattle-snake.  Did you never hear one before?"

"Never in my life," he replied.  "I have often seen
their skins and rattles, but never a live rattle-snake.
O, Harold," he said, shuddering, "what a narrow escape
I have made.  That fellow struck so near me twice, as
barely to miss my clothes."

The boys obtained each a pole of ten feet in length.
They stood on opposite sides of the narrow thicket in
which the venomous reptile was making its defence, and
as it moved, in striking, to the one side or the other,
they aimed their blows, until it was stunned by a
fortunate stroke from Robert, and fell writhing amid the
leaves and herbage.  The moment the blow took effect,
Mum, whose eyes were lighted with fiery eagerness,
sprang upon the body, seized it by the middle, shook
it violently, then dropped and shook it again.  It was
now perfectly dead.  They drew it out, and stretched
it on the ground.  Its body was longer than either of
theirs, and as large around as Robert's leg.  The fangs,
which he shuddered to behold, were half as long as his
finger, and crooked, like the nails of a cat, and the
rattles were sixteen in number.

"This is an old soldier," said Harold; "he is seventeen
or eighteen years of age.  Had we not better carry it to
the boat that Mary and Frank may see it?  It is well
for all to be able to distinguish a rattle-snake when it is met."

The precaution was necessary.  For though Mary had
a salutary fear of all reptiles, Frank had not; he would
as soon have played with a snake, as with a lizard or a
worm; and these last he would oftentimes hold in his
hand, admiring what he considered their beauty.  They
stretched it on the earth before the children; put it into
its coil ready for striking; opened its mouth; showed
the horrid fangs; and squeezing the poison bag, forced
a drop of the green liquid to the end of the tooth.

"Frank," said Harold, "if you meet a snake like
this, you had better let him alone.  Rattle-snakes never
run at people.  They are very peaceable and only trouble
those that trouble them.  But they will not budge out
of their way for a king; and if you wrong them, they
will give you the point of their fangs, and a drop of
their poison, and then you will swell up and die.  Do
you think that you will play with snakes any more!"

"No, indeed," he replied.

"Harold," said Robert, "do you know how to
distinguish a poisonous snake from a harmless one?"

On his replying in the negative, Robert continued,
"The poisonous serpents, I am told, may be usually
known by their having broad angular heads, and short
stumpy tails.  That rattlesnake answers exactly to the
description, and I wonder at myself for not having put
my knowledge to better use when I met him.  The only
exception to this rule I know of is the spreading adder,
which is of the same shape, but harmless.  Poisonous
serpents must have fangs, and a poison bag.  These must
be somewhere in the head, without being part of the
jaws themselves.  This addition to the head gives to it
a broad corner on each side, different from that of a
snake which has no fangs.  But *if ever you see a thick
set snake with a broad head and a short stumpy tail,
take care*."

The conversation now turned upon the subject of
snake-bites and their cure.  "My father," said Harold,
"had two negroes bitten during one summer by
highland moccasins, and each was cured by a very simple
remedy.  In the first case the accident happened near
the house, and my father was in the field.  He sent a
runner home for a pint bottle of sweet oil, and made him
drink by little and little the whole.  Beside this there
was nothing done, and the negro recovered.  The other
case was more singular.  Father was absent, and there
was no oil to be had, but the overseer cured the fellow
*with chickens*."

"Chickens!" exclaimed Mary, laughing.  "Did he
make him take them the same way?"

"Not exactly," Harold answered; "he used them as
a sort of poultice.  He ordered a number of half grown
fowls to be split open alive, by cutting them through the
back, and applied them warm to the wound.  Before
the first chicken was cold, he applied another, and
another, until he had used a dozen.  He said that the
warm entrails sucked out the poison.  Whether or not
this was the true reason, the negro became immediately
better; and it was surprising to see how green the inside
of the first few chickens looked, after they had lain for
a little while on the wound."

"*We* also had a negro bitten by a ground rattle,"
said Robert, "and father cured him by using hartshorn
and brandy, together with an empty bottle."

Harold looked rather surprised to hear of the empty
bottle, and Robert said, "O, that was used only as a
cupping-glass.  Hot water was poured in, and then
poured out, and as the air within cooled, it made the
bottle suck very strongly on the wound, to which it was
applied, and which father had opened more widely by
his lancet.  While this operation was going on, father
made the fellow drink brandy enough to intoxicate him,
saying that this was the only occasion in which he
thought it was right to make a person drunk.  The
hartshorn, by-the-by, was used on another occasion, when
there was neither a bottle nor spirit to be had.  It
was applied freely to the wound itself, and also
administered by a quarter of a teaspoonful at a time in water,
until the person had taken six or eight doses.  I
recollect hearing father say that all animal poisons are
regarded as *intense acids*, for which the best antidotes are
alkalies, such as hartshorn, soda saleratus, and even
strong lye."

"Last year," said Harold, "I was myself bitten by
a water-moccasin.  I was far from home, and had no
one to help me; but I succeeded in curing myself,
without help."

"Indeed! how was it?"

"I had gone to a mill-pond to bathe, and was in the
act of leaping into the water, when I trod upon one
that lay asleep at the water's edge.  Although it is
more than a year since, I have the feeling under my foot
at this moment as he twisted over and struck me.
Fortunately his fangs did not sink very deep, but there
was a gash at the joint of my great toe, of at least
half an inch long.  I knew in a moment that I was
bitten, and as quickly recollected hearing old Torgah
say, that the Indian cure for a bite is to lay upon the
wound the liver of the snake that makes it.  But I
suppose that my snake had no notion of being made into
a poultice for his own bite; for though I chased him,
and tried hard to get his liver, he ran under a log and
escaped.  Very likely if I had succeeded in killing him,
I might have relied upon the Indian cure and been
disappointed.  As it was, I jumped into the water, washed
out the poison as thoroughly as possible, and having
made my foot perfectly clean, I sucked the wound until
the blood ceased to flow."

"And did not the poison make you at all sick?"

"Not in the least.  My foot swelled a little, and at
first stung a great deal.  But that was the end of it.  I
was careful to swallow none of the blood, and to wash
my mouth well after the sucking."

"Do, if you please, stop talking about snakes," said
Mary, "I begin to see them wherever I look; suppose we
return to our old encampment."

The boys gathered the remainder of the hay, called
Nanny and the dogs, and reached the place which they
had left, about five o'clock in the afternoon--having
seen no signs of human habitation, and being exceedingly
pleased with the appearance of their island; they
made a slight alteration, however, in the place of their
tent.  Instead of continuing on the beach, they pitched
it upon the bluff near the spring, and under the branches
of a large mossy live oak.  By the time the duties of
the evening were concluded, they were ready for sleep.
They committed themselves once more to the care of
Him who has promised to be the Father of the fatherless,
and laid down in peace, to rest during their third night
upon the island.





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.. _`XIII`:

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   CHAPTER XIII

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   DISAPPOINTMENT--THE LIVE OAK--UNLOADING--FISHING
   EXCURSION--HAROLD'S STILL HUNT--DISAGREEABLE
   MEANS TO AN AGREEABLE END

.. vspace:: 2

Before sunrise it was manifest that, without a
change in the wind, the excursion proposed for
that day was impossible; a strong breeze was
blowing directly from the east, and brought a ceaseless
succession of mimic billows down the river.  Hoping,
however, that the wind might change or moderate, they
resolved to employ the interval in transferring all their
articles of value from the boat, to their new home under
the oak.  And it was indeed fortunate, as they
afterwards had occasion to know, that they attended to this
duty so soon.

The live oak, under which their tent was pitched,
was a magnificent tree.  Its trunk was partially decayed
from age, and the signs of similar decay in many of the
larger limbs was no doubt the cause of its being spared
in the universal search along this coast for ship timber;
but it was so large, that the four youngsters by joining
hands could barely reach around it.  Ten feet above
the root, it divided into three massive branches, which
in turn were subdivided into long pendant boughs
extending about sixty feet in every direction, and
showing, at their ends, a strong disposition to sweep the
ground.  The height of the tree did not correspond to
its breadth.  It is characteristic of the live oak that,
after attaining the moderate height of forty or fifty
feet, its growth is directed laterally; the older trees often
covering an area of more than double their height.
Every limb was hung so plentifully with long gray
moss, as to give it a strikingly venerable and patriarchal
aspect, and Harold declared he could scarcely look at
it without a disposition to take off his hat.

At noon Harold proposed to Robert that, the wind
having ceased, they should spend the afternoon either
in hunting or fishing.  "If," said he, "Mary and Frank
will allow us to leave them, I propose the first; if not,
I propose the last, in which all can join."

"O, let us go together, by all means," said Mary.
"I do not like to be left alone in this far off place;
something may happen."

"Then let it be fishing," said Harold; "but what
shall we use for bait?"

"The old bait that our grandfathers used--shrimp,"
replied Robert.  "I observed on yesterday a multitude
of them in a nook of the creek near the river.  We can
first catch some of these with our scoop net, and then
try for whatever may bite.  At any rate we can take
the offals of the turkey, and fish for crabs."

However, on ascending the river in their boat, and
making the trial, they found that the shrimp had
disappeared, and they were left with only six or seven
caught at a venture.

"This is a dull prospect," said Harold, whose active
nature made him impatient of fishing as an amusement,
unless the success was unusually good.  "If you will
allow me to go ashore I will try my luck with the gun."

"Certainly, certainly," was the reply; though Robert
added, "You must remember that this is a wild country,
Harold, and that we had better keep within hearing at
least of each other's guns."

Harold promised not to wander beyond the appointed
limit; and each agreed that if help were needed, two
guns should be fired in quick succession.

"Will you not take my double barrel?" said Robert.
"It is loaded with duck and squirrel shot, but you can
easily draw and load for deer."

"I thank you, no," replied Harold.  "It is so long
since I have handled anything but a rifle, that a smooth
bore now would be awkward."

They put him ashore, then dropped anchor, and began
to fish.  Mary and Frank had been long initiated into
the mysteries of the art.  On the present occasion,
Robert reserved to himself the shrimp, and set them to the
easier task of fishing for crabs.  For security he tied
the lines to the thowl pins.  Crabs, as all upon the
seaboard well know, are not caught with hooks, but with
bait either hooked or tied to a lie, and with a
spoon-shaped net.  The crab takes hold of the bait with its
claws, and is drawn to the surface, when the net is
carefully introduced below.  Robert inserted his own hook
through the back of a live silver fish, and threw it in the
water as a bait for drum.  Soon Mary was seen drawing
up her line, which she said was very heavy.  "There
is a crab on it, brother!" she cried, as it approached the
surface; "two crabs! two! two!"  Robert was near her.
He inserted the net below, and the two captives were
soon in the boat.  "Well done for you, Miss Mary; you
have beat us all!"

Here Frank called out suddenly, "I have got one too!
O, how heavy he is!  Brother, come; he is pulling my
line away!"

It was not a crab.  Robert and he pulled together, and
after considerable play, they found that it was an
enormous cat-fish or bull-head.

"This fellow will make a capital stew for tomorrow's
dinner," said Robert.  "But hold to your line, Frank,
while I put the net under him also.  I am afraid of
these terrible side fins."

The fish had scarcely been raised over the gunwale of
the boat, with the remark, "that is a bouncer!" when
Robert noticed his own line fizzing through the water
at a rapid rate.  He quickly loosed it from the place
where it was tied, and payed out yard after yard as
the vigorous fish darted and struggled away; then
humouring its motion by giving or taking the line as seemed
to be necessary, he at last drew it towards him, and took
it aboard.  It was a drum, the largest he had ever caught,
or indeed ever seen.  It was as long as his arm, and
strong enough to require all his art for its capture.

He loosed the hooks from the floundering fishes, and
tried for more.  But they now seemed slow to bite.  He
took only two others, and they were small.  Mary,
however, caught nine crabs, and Frank two.  Becoming
weary of the sport, they heard afar off the sharp crack
of a rifle.

"There goes Harold's rifle!" said Robert; "and I
warrant something has seen its last of the sun.  Let us
put up our lines, and meet him at the tent."

The anchor was weighed, the sail spread, and in the
course of half an hour they saw Harold at the landing.

"What have you brought?" they all asked.

"O, nothing--nothing at all," he replied, looking
at the same time much pleased.

"Nothing!" responded Robert.  "Why we paid you
the compliment of saying, 'There goes Harold's rifle!
and you may be sure he has killed something."

"If *you* have not anything, *we have*," boasted Frank.
"See what a big fish I caught!  Isn't it a bouncer for
a little fellow like me to catch?  Why, sir, he nearly
pulled me into the water; but I pulled and pulled, and
brother Robert came to help me, and we both pulled, and
got him in.  See, too, what brother Robert caught--a
big trout; and sister Mary, she caught a parcel of crabs;
I caught two crabs myself.  And you haven't anything!
Why, cousin Harold, are you not ashamed of yourself?"

"But you have killed something; I see it in your
looks," said Mary, scrutinizing his countenance; "what
is it?"

"That is another question," replied Harold.  "You
all asked me at first what I had brought.  Now, I *have
brought* nothing; but I have *to bring* a deer."

"Then, indeed, you have beat us," said Robert; "but
that is only what I expected."

"A deer!" exclaimed the two younger.  "O, take us
to see it!"

Mooring the boat safely, they hastened with Harold to
the scene of slaughter.  It was about half a mile distant.
There lay a large fat buck, with branching horns, and
sleek brown sides.  Frank threw himself upon it in an
ecstasy of delight; patted, hugged, and almost kissed it.
Mary hung back, shrinking from the sight of blood.

"O, cousin Harold," she cried, "what a terrible gash
your bullet has made in the poor thing's throat!  Just
look there!"

Harold laughed.  "That was not made by my ball,
but by my knife.  Hunters always bleed their game,
cousin, or it will not look so white, taste so sweet, nor
keep so well."

The boys prepared to carry it home.  Harold, taking
from his bosom the hatchet, cut a long stout pole, and
Robert brought some leaves of the silk grass (the yucca
filamentosa, whose long narrow leaves are strong as
cords), with which the legs of the deer were tied
together.  Swinging it on the pole between them, they
marched homewards.

By this afternoon's excursion they were provided with
a delightful supply of fish, crabs, and venison.  But,
alas! they were compelled to be their own butchers and
cooks; and there are certain processes through which
these delicacies must pass before being ready for the
mouth that are not so agreeable.  Mary and Frank
brought up the fish, and set about preparing them for
supper.  They laid each upon a flat root of the tree, and
with a knife scraped off the scales.  This was dirty work
for a nice young lady, but it was necessary to the desired
end.  She pshawed and pshawed at it as the slimy scales
adhered to her fingers, or flew into her face, but she
persevered until all was done.

In the meantime the fire had been mended, and water
poured into their largest pot.  When it began to boil,
Mary and Frank dropped in the crabs.  Poor creatures! it
was a warm reception they met with from their native
element.  Each one gave a kick at the unwelcome
sensation, and then sunk into quiet repose, at the bottom of
its iron sepulchre.  They remained boiling until their
shells were perfectly red, when they were taken out, and
piled in a dish for supper.





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.. _`XIV`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XIV

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.. class:: noindent small

   FRANK'S EXCUSES--CURING VENISON--MAROONING
   COOKERY--ROBERT'S VEGETABLE GARDEN--PLANS FOR
   RETURN---PREPARATION FOR THE SABBATH

.. vspace:: 2

When Mary and Frank arose next morning,
they saw the small boughs of the oak hung
with divided portions of venison.  The boys
had so placed them, after finishing, late at night, for the
double purpose of allowing them to cool and of keeping
them out of reach of the dogs.  "Come, Frank," said
Mary, "let us make up the fire, and get things ready
for breakfast."  The wood was close at hand, ready cut,
and nothing more was needed for a fire than putting the
pieces together, with several sticks of light wood
underneath; a bright cracking blaze soon rose cheerfully
before them.

"Buddy," she said, "can you not go down to the
spring, and bring me some water, while I am preparing
these other things?"

But Frank was lazy that morning, and out of humour,
and the fire was so comfortable (for the air was cool) that
he stood before it, warming his hands, and puffing at the
smoke that blew in his face.  He replied, "No, sister, I
am afraid"--then he paused, trying hard to think of
some excuse.  "I am afraid that if I go the crabs will
bite me."

"Crabs!" Mary exclaimed.  "Why how can they bite
you, when they are all cooked?"

"I do not mean the crabs in the dish," said he, "but
the crabs in the river."

"Well, if they are in the river," argued Mary, "how
can they hurt you, if you keep on the land?"

Frank found that his excuse was about to fail.  But
he was not disposed to surrender so easily.  He therefore
devised another.  "I am afraid to go, for if the crabs
do not bite me maybe the snakes will.  Don't you
remember what cousin Harold told us the other day about
snakes."

Frank said this very seriously, and had not Mary been
somewhat provoked at his unbrotherly refusal, she would
have laughed at the ridiculous contrast between his looks
and his language.  She said, reproachfully, "I thought,
Frank, you loved me better than to treat me so.  I want
the water to make coffee for you, and the rest of us, and
yet you will not help me."

"I do not wish any of the coffee," he answered.  "All
that I want for breakfast is some of that nice fat deer,
and some of these fish and crabs."

"Very well," she added, in a hurt but independent
tone, "I can help myself."

She took the bucket, and went to the spring.  Frank
looked ashamed, but continued silent.  He drew up a
billet of wood and sat upon it, pushing his feet towards
the fire, and spreading out his hands, for the want of
something else to do.  By the time Mary returned from
the spring, Robert and Harold came from the tent.  They
had retired late and weary the night before, and as a
natural consequence had overslept their usual time for
rising.  "What is that we heard you and Frank talking
about?" Robert asked of Mary.

"Inquire of Frank," she replied; "I prefer that he
should tell you."

"Well, Frank, what was it?"

"Nothing," he answered, doggedly, "except that sister
wanted me to go to the spring, and I told her I was
afraid that the crabs and snakes would bite me."

"What did sister Mary want with the water?"

"To make coffee, I suppose."

"And do you not love coffee?"

"Sometimes; but I do not wish any this morning,
for sister never puts in sugar enough for me."

"Well, well, we shall see who wants coffee at breakfast.
Sister Mary, is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Cousin," said Harold, uniting quickly in the effort
to shame Frank out of his strange caprice, "I wish you
would let me too help you in some way.  You are
always so ready to do everything you can for us, that
we are glad whenever we can do anything for you."

Mary needed nothing, except to have the kettle lifted
to its place upon the fire.  Frank was all this time
warming his hands and feet, as if he was desperately cold.
In reading the Scriptures, and repeating the Lord's
Prayer, his voice could scarcely be heard; he knew that
he had done wrong, and was beginning to repent.  At
breakfast, Mary asked him in a kind, forgiving tone, if
he would not have some coffee; but true to his resolution
he declined.

The first business of the day was to take care of their
venison.  Yet what should they do with it?  They had
no cool place in which to keep it fresh, nor salting tub
nor barrel in which to corn or pickle what they could
not consume in its green state.  Harold's proposal was
that they should cut the hams into thin slices, and jerk
them in the smoke, as he had seen Torgah do; or else
to dry them in the sun, which in the middle of the day
was quite hot.  Robert said he had heard or read of
meat being saved fresh for several days by burying it
under cool running water, and offered to try it at their
spring.  Mary said she liked both plans, but having had
such good experience of Harold's baked turkey, she
hoped he would now give them a specimen of baked venison.

It was finally resolved to give each plan a fair trial.
One ham should be sliced and jerked; another should
be baked for the next day's dinner, as the turkey had
been; one shoulder should be cooked for that day's
consumption, and the other put under the drip of the spring
to prove whether it would keep until Monday.

"There is one advantage at least that we shall gain
from these experiments," said Harold; "a knowledge
how to economize our meat."

For a minute or two Mary had been evidently pondering
upon some difficult problem; and Robert, observing
her abstraction, asked in a jesting tone if she was
studying anatomy.

"Not exactly," she replied; "I was thinking of two
things; how to cook this shoulder, when we have nothing
in which to bake or roast it--"

"O, as for that," Harold interjected, "I will provide
you in ten minutes' time with a roaster wide enough for
an ox, or small enough for a sparrow.  Do you just hang
it by a string from the pole I will set for you above the
fire; it will roast fast enough, only you will lose all your
gravy."

"The gipsies' roasting-pole!" said she; "I wonder I
did not think of it.  The other thing is, that after you
have sliced the steak-pieces from the bone, the remainder
would make an excellent soup, if we had any vegetables
to put with it."

"And what do you want?" Robert inquired.

"In beef soup," she replied, "cooks usually put in
turnips, onions, cabbage, potatoes, carrots, and the like."

"Carrots and potatoes I fear we must do without at
this time," said he, "but the rest I think I can furnish,
or something very like them."

"What! have you a vegetable garden already growing
on the island?" asked Harold.

"Yes," he answered, "a very large and fine one; an
endless supply of the most beautiful white cabbage, and
most delicate asparagus, besides quantities of spinach,
okra, and other vegetables.  The palmetto gives the first,
the tender shoots of the bamboo-brier the second; the
leaves of the poke, when young, furnish the third, and
those of the wild violet the last, or rather a substitute in
its mucilaginous leaf, for the okra.  Beside these plants
(all of which, except the last, need to be boiled in
several waters to free them from their bitter taste), there
are multitudes more growing around us that are perfectly
wholesome as articles of food--the purslain, the thistle,
the dandelion, the lambsquarter, the cresses and
pepper-grasses, to say nothing of the pink-gilled mushrooms, and
the fungus that grows from logs of hickory."

"I will ask no more questions about your garden," said
Harold.  "I will confess at once that it is one of the
largest and finest in the world; but will say too that it
requires a person of your knowledge to use it aright."

"And no great knowledge after all," responded
Robert.  "I could teach you in half an hour every one."

"I will await them here," said Harold, "wishing you
all success in visiting the garden, and cousin Mary all
success in preparing the vegetables for use."

That afternoon they engaged in another discussion
about attempting a speedy return home.  Robert and
Mary had become impatient of their stay, and were
despairing of any one's coming soon to their relief.  The
three and a half days of separation from their father
seemed to them a month.

"Why not make the effort to return at once?" they
contended.  "This place is very good indeed; on some
accounts we could not desire a better; yet it is not home."

Harold shook his head, and replied, "I am not sure,
notwithstanding all your arguments, that any of us know
where home is.  One thing I do know, that this island
seems to be a very safe and comfortable place for people
in our condition.  Moreover, I am confident that your
father will use every means for finding us; and we
can scarcely be in a better place than this for being
found.  My opinion still is that we had better continue
here for a fortnight or three weeks in safety, than to
risk what we should, by starting in an open boat, to go
upon the broad sea, we know not where."

Harold, however, was overruled.  Mary and Frank
united with Robert in resolving to attempt their return
homewards by coasting; and Harold yielded with a sigh,
remarking that his heart was with them, but his
judgment against them.  The moment the question was
decided, Frank began to show the greatest glee.  To his
hopeful spirit, to try was to succeed; and he was even
then in fancy revelling once more in the scenes of happy Bellevue.

But when should they begin their voyage?  Not that
day, for they were not ready.  Not the next, for that was
the Sabbath, which they had been taught to reverence.
Not Monday morning, because there were preparations
to be made, which they could not complete without
working on the Sabbath, They resolved to "remember the
Sabbath day to keep it holy," by rest from labour, and
by appropriate exercises, and then to start as soon after
as possible; which, probably, could not be before Monday
evening or Tuesday morning.

They prepared another oven, heated and protected as
before, into which the ham of venison was introduced.
They collected and cut a supply of wood to be used in
case of cool weather the following day, and brought from
the bank another basket full of oysters.  After spending
a pleasant evening in conversation, they retired to
rest, happy in the thought that they had been trying to
live as they should, and that they had resolved, of their
own free will, to reverence the Sabbath, at the sacrifice
of another day from home.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`XV`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XV

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   THEIR FIRST SABBATH ON THE ISLAND, AND THE NIGHT AND
   MORNING THAT SUCCEEDED

.. vspace:: 2

The morning sun rose with uncommon beauty,
and the young people having retired early to
bed, were prepared for early rising.  Frank
now volunteered to aid his sister in preparing for
breakfast; his repentance was shown not by words but by
deeds; and though it was only an act of duty performed
towards his sister and the company, it was in part a very
proper beginning in the observance of a day belonging
to Him who encourages us to think that he regards
whatever we do from a principle of duty to our fellow men,
as being done to himself.

At the time of worship they gathered with more than
usual solemnity around the accustomed place, and read
the portion of Scripture for the morning.  It was a
chapter of unusual interest to them all, and
particularly so to Harold.  He had become increasingly
thoughtful since their accident.  This morning he appeared to
be more serious than ever, and once or twice, when his
turn came to read, his voice was so low and unsteady, that
he could scarcely be heard.  There was evidently some
cause of distress to that youth of strong mind and pure
life which the others knew not.

The Sabbath passed, as may be readily conceived,
without being enlivened by any incidents of a particularly
interesting character.  It can scarcely be said that they
did actually sanctify the Sabbath, for there was nothing
spiritual, nor even hearty in their exercises; and they
themselves felt that there was a great deficiency somewhere.

Their unmethodical though conscientious effort was
useful in teaching them to look beyond mere externals
for any real good to be derived.  They learned they were
imperfect even in their best performances, and without
merit when they had done what they could.

Late in the evening they went to the seashore, and
sitting upon a bank of clean sand near their flag-staff,
looked upon the sea from which they had made so
providential an escape, and to which they expected once more
to commit themselves.  A light breeze had been blowing
from the west all day, yet light as it was it had been
sufficient to raise the waves, and make them roar and
break with ominous violence upon the shore.  This action
of the breeze revealed to them another fact, that two
or three miles to the seaward there was a long and
apparently endless chain of breakers extending north
and south, as far as the eye could reach.  They could
see the large waves gather, and the white tops sparkle
with foam.  Here was another cause for thankfulness.
Had the present wind been blowing on the day of their
accident, they could not possibly have crossed that
foaming bar; they would have been kept at sea, and been to
a certainty lost in the sudden squall that arose that night.

But the sight of these breakers was also a source of
disquiet, in view of their intended voyage.  It was
evident, as they supposed, that they could not sail with
safety, when the wind was blowing with any freshness,
either on or off the shore, on account of the rough swell,
caused by the first, and of the danger of being carried out
to sea by the last.  They conversed long and anxiously
upon this new feature in their case; and then, by
general consent, kneeled together upon the sands, in
conscious helplessness, and implored Him who is the Lord of
the seas, to care for them and direct their steps.

When they left the beach, the light of day was fading
into the hues of night; and several faint stars peeped
timidly from the yet illuminated sky.  Mary and Frank
retired to their room soon after dark.  The larger boys
sat for some time, conversing upon their situation and
prospects, when observing the sky to cloud rapidly with
the indications of a sudden change of weather, they went
to the landing, made their boat secure as possible, and
then laid down to rest.

The wind soon began to sigh in the branches of the
huge oak above them.  Each puff became stronger than
the one before it.  They could hear the roar of the
distant surf, bursting angrily over the sandy barrier, and
thundering on the shore.  It was the beginning of a
hurricane.  The boys sprang from their pallets, and dressing
themselves hastily, seized the ax and hatchet, and drove
the tent-pins deeply into the ground.  While thus
engaged, Nanny and her kids came up, and showed a strong
disposition to take refuge in the tent.  The dogs also
gave signs of uneasiness, following them around with
drooping tails, whining and shivering, as they looked
with half shut, winking eyes, in the direction of the
wind.  These signs of terror in their dumb companions
only made the boys work faster, and do their work more
securely.  They did not content themselves with driving
down the tent-pins; they took the logs cut for firewood,
and laid them on the windward edges of the tent, to
prevent the wind from entering below and blowing the
canvas from above their heads.  Had they the time they
would have laid the sails of their boat, which they had
hastily unrigged, above the canvas of the tent; but ere
they could accomplish this, the wind burst upon them
with the fury of a tornado.  The grand old tree
quivered to its roots, and groaned in every limb.  The tent
fluttered and tugged at the ropes with such force that
the deeply driven pins could scarcely hold it down.  It
was fortunate that it had been pitched under the oak,
for the long lower branches, which at ordinary times
almost swept the ground, were strained downwards so far,
that with their loads of moss, they formed a valuable
barrier against the wind.

There was little sleeping for the boys that night.
Scarcely had they entered the tent before the rain
commenced.  It came in heavy drifts, and was carried with
such force that, notwithstanding the protection afforded
by the oak, it insinuated itself through the close threads
of the canvas, and under the edges of the tent.  Mary
had been awaked by the hammering, and Frank was now
roused by the dropping of water in his face.  When
Robert entered their room to see how they fared, he
discovered them seated on a trunk, wrapped in their father's
cloak, and sheltered by that very umbrella which Frank
had been provident enough to bring.  They rolled up
their bedding and clothes, and protected as best they
could whatever seemed most in danger from the wet.
They sat on boxes and trunks, and wrapped themselves in
cloaks and blankets; but it was in vain; they could not
guard themselves at the same time from the rain above
and the driven water from below.  They sat cold and
shivering until three o'clock in the morning, when the
rain ceased and the wind abated.  Then they made a
fire; and just before day were enabled, by lying on trunks
and boxes, to indulge themselves in a short uneasy sleep.

The clear sun shone over the main land before the
wearied company awoke.  Harold was the first on his
feet, and calling to Robert, they hastened out to see what
damage had been done.  Mary also joined them,
followed by Frank; for having dressed themselves during
the night, they had no further toilet to make.

In every direction were to be seen traces of the storm;
prostrate trees, broken branches, the ground strewed
with twigs, and the thickets and vines loaded with
packages of moss, torn from the taller trees.  The sea roared
terribly, and thick dirty billows came rolling up the river.

Harold was about to mend the fire for Mary, who said
she wanted to drink something hot, as the best means
of warming her chilled limbs, when Robert, glancing at
the tremendous tide in the river, called to her quickly--"Do
not waste one drop of this water in the bucket; there
is only a quart left, and no one can tell when the tide
will be down enough for us to obtain more."  He ran
to the bluff, and the others observed him make a
gesture of surprise, look hastily around, and finally leap
down the bank.  He was absent only two or three
minutes, and then returned with a pale face and hurrying
step.

"Harold!" said he, scarcely able to articulate, "OUR
BOAT IS GONE!  Burst from her moorings!"

At this terrible announcement, every face whitened,
and there was a general rush for the landing.  It was
even so.  The boat was nowhere to be seen.  The stake
which had confined it had also disappeared.  Far as the
eye could reach nothing was visible but water--water,
with here and there a patch of mangrove, higher than
the rest, and bowing reluctantly to the rush of the waves.
They looked anxiously over the watery waste, and then
into each other's agitated faces.  It was clear that their
prospect of speedily returning home was hopeless.

"But perhaps," said Mary, who was the first to recover
speech, "it is not lost.  It may have only drifted up the
river; or it may have sunk at the landing."

Robert mournfully looked, where he had already looked
more than once, and said, "Well, we can try.  But what
is the use? something has been against us ever since we
left home.  Harold, shall we search the river?"

Harold seemed lost in thought.  His keen eye had
glanced in every direction, where it was possible the boat
could have been driven; then lessening in its fire, it
gave evidence of deep abstraction.  Robert's question
recalled him, and he slowly answered, "Yes; but it is my
opinion we shall not find it.  You know I have all along
had the idea that we ought not to leave this island.
It has seemed to me, ever since the fish let go our anchor,
that the hand of God was in this accident, and that we
are not yet at the end of it.  I am troubled, like the
rest of you; but I have also been questioning whether
it is meant for our harm or for our good.  I do not think
it is for harm, or we might have been left to perish
at sea; and if it is for good, I think we ought to submit
with cheerfulness."

They conversed awhile upon the bluff, in view of the
dismal waters, then slowly turned towards the tent, which
was now the only place on earth they could call their home.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`XVI`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XVI

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.. class:: noindent small

   A SAD BREAKFAST--SAGACITY OF DOGS--SEARCH FOR THE
   BOAT--EXCITING ADVENTURE--A PRETTY PET--UNEXPECTED
   INTELLIGENCE

.. vspace:: 2

Once more the young people assembled in
their tent; once more they read the Scriptures,
and knelt together in prayer.  Their tones were
humble and subdued.  They felt more deeply than ever
their dependence upon an arm that is stronger and
farther reaching than man's.

Their simple meal was soon ready, consisting of the
most tempting bits that Mary could select, as an
enticement to their reluctant appetites.  They sat down, and
endeavoured to appear cheerful, but little was said,
and less was eaten.  Harold's face was towards the
marsh.  Robert observed him fix his eye steadily upon a
distant point of land, where the opposite bluff of the
river terminated on the sea.  He looked as if he saw
something unusual, but after a scrutinizing gaze of
half a minute, turned away his eye, and relapsed into
thought.

"Did you observe anything across the marsh?"
inquired Robert, willing to relieve the silence.

"I thought I saw a little curl of smoke upon the
point," he returned; "but now suppose it was the steam
from the bluff, drawn up by the sun.

"Robert," he continued, "it is possible after all
that we may find our boat.  If not sunk at the landing,
it is certainly somewhere up the river, in the direction
of the wind.  The tide has not yet begun to ebb.  If it
has lodged in the marsh, we can best see it while the water
is high, and if it has not lodged, it may float back with
the tide.  Suppose we set off at once to search."

Mary's reluctance to be left alone yielded to the
necessity of the case, and begging them to be careful of
themselves, and to return as soon as possible, she
assumed a cheerful air, and tried to prepare them for their
departure.

The boys promised to return by midday, unless
delayed by finding the boat; and taking their guns and
hatchet, together with a luncheon in case of delay, they
set out, accompanied by Mum.  Ere proceeding more
than a few steps, however, Robert stopped to say,
"Harold, we shall not need the dogs.  Let us leave them for
protectors to Mary and Frank.  True, there is no
danger; but they will feel safer for having them at hand.
Frank, bring me Mum's chain.  Here, Mum!  Here, Mum!"

Mum came rather reluctantly; for dog though he was,
he appeared to apprehend the state of the case.  Mary
observing this, exclaimed, "Cousin, I do believe that
Mum understands what brother says.  Only see how
disappointed he looks!"

"O, yes," returned Harold; "dogs understand more
than most people suspect.  He probably heard Robert
use the word 'chain'; and he has heard it often enough
to know what it means.  But they gather more from the
eye and tone than from words.  Mum, poor fellow, I am
sorry to leave you; for I know you love hunting better
than staying at home.  But you know nothing of hunting
boats, Mum; so we want you to stay and help Fidelle to
guard your young mistress and master against the
squirrels and opossums.  If any of them come you must bite
them well; do you hear, Mum?"

The poor dog wagged his short tail mournfully, as
much as to say he would do his best; but at the same time
cast a wistful look at the guns.  With a charge to Mary
not to let Mum loose without necessity, and to Frank
not to approach the bluff except in the company of his
sister, the boys were once more on the move, when Mary
inquired, "But what shall we do if we see the boat
coming down the river, or if we need you for any other
reason?"

"True, true," said Robert; "I am glad you suggested
it.  We will load William's gun for you, and you must
fire it for your signal.  We shall probably be within
hearing."

Robert well knew that Mary was able to do what he
proposed, for her father had made it a part of his duty
to instruct her, or cause her to be instructed, in every
art necessary to preserve and enjoy life.  For this
purpose she had learned how to load and use the several
varieties of firearms--to manage a horse in harness and
under the saddle--and even to swim.  Compared with
most other girls she was qualified to be quite a heroine.

With many adieus and kind wishes from both sides,
the boys finally set off.  They struck directly through the
woods for their old fishing point, at the junction of the
creek with the river.  Standing on the most commanding
part of the bluff, they looked in every direction, but
no sign of the boat appeared.  Then they turned their
steps to the southeast, following, as closely as they could,
the bank of the creek, though compelled oftentimes to
make large circuits in order to avoid the short creeks and
bay-galls that set in from the marsh.  These bay-galls are
wet spongy bottoms, shaded with loblolly bays, and
tangled with briers, and the edges are usually fringed
with the gall-berry bush--a shrub closely resembling the
whortleberry, and bearing a black fruit of the same size,
but nauseously bitter.  Compelled to make great
circuits around these miry bottoms, and interrupted by a
close growth of vines and trees, the boys advanced
scarcely a mile and a half to the hour.  They left not a
foot of the shore unexplored; still no vestige of the boat
appeared.

About eleven o'clock they approached the tongue of
land on which they had discovered the orange trees,
and where they proposed to quench their thirst with the
pleasant acid of the fruit, and afterwards to return to the
tent.  They had just headed a short bay-gall, and were
enjoying the first glimpses of the south river, when they
were startled by a trampling in the bushes before them;
and a herd of six deer rushed past and disappeared in
the dark bottom.  Soon after a half grown fawn, white
as milk, and bleating piteously, was seen staggering
through the bushes, having a large wildcat seated upon
its shoulders, and tearing furiously at its neck.  Robert's
gun had been levelled, when the herd appeared, but they
passed too quickly for a shot; he was therefore all ready
when the fawn approached, and aiming not at it, but at
the fierce creature upon its back, both animals rolled
together upon the ground.  He would have rushed
immediately upon them, had he not been restrained by the
grasp of Harold.

"Not yet!" said he, "not yet! keep your other
barrel ready, a wildcat is hard to kill, and will fight
until he begins to gasp."

It was fortunate for Robert that he was thus arrested,
for the cat was only wounded, and soon recovered
sufficiently to limp away.  "Now give him your second
barrel, Robert; give it to him in his shoulder."  Before he
could do so, however, the cat slipped into the hollow of a
neighbouring tree.

"He is safe now," said Harold; "we can kill him at
our leisure.  But keep your eye on the hole, and be ready
to shoot, while I attend to this fawn."

When Harold took hold of the beautiful little creature,
he discovered that the wounds were very slight.  The ball
had penetrated the back of the head and stunned it,
without touching any vital part, and it was beginning to
recover; the wounds made by the wildcat were only skin
deep, and could easily be healed.

"Shall I bleed it for venison?" asked Harold, "or save
it as a pet for Mary and Frank?"

"O, save it by all means," replied Robert, whose
sympathies had been from the first excited by the piteous,
childlike tones of the fawn.  "Save it for sister, and let
us make haste to finish this beast."

"Then lend me your handkerchief," said Harold;
"mine alone is not sufficient for both collar and cord."

Robert approached him for the purpose, when he
observed the cat creep slyly from his hole, and hobble
away with all haste.  "Quick, Harold," cried Robert,
tossing him the handkerchief, "tie the fawn, and follow
me," then dashed through the bushes in pursuit.

"Take care, you may get too near," Harold shouted;
but Robert was already lost to sight behind the
underwood.  By the time the fawn was secured, Harold heard
him hallooing about one hundred paces away, and going
rapidly in that direction, saw him watching the
convulsive throes of the wild creature as it lay gasping on the
ground.

Harold looked on and pleasantly remarked, "You will
soon get your name up for a hunter, if you keep
improving at this rate.  That is a splendid cat!  What
claws and teeth!  Let us see how long he is."  Putting
his hands together at the thumbs, and spreading them
out to span a foot, he ascertained that it measured two
feet nine inches from the nose to the root of the short
tail; and that, standing with its head erect, it must have
been fully two and a half feet high.  Its teeth and nails
were savage looking things.

"I am glad he did not fasten those ugly looking things
in my leg," said Robert; "but I was so excited by the
pursuit, that I rushed at one time almost upon him.  He
had stopped behind a bush; all at once he sprang at me
with a growl, showing his white teeth, bristling his hair,
and glaring at me with his large fierce eyes.  He dodged
behind another bush, and when I next saw him he was
gasping and convulsed as when you came up."

"It would have been a desperate fight, if he had seized
you," remarked Harold; "you would have borne the
marks to the end of your life."

Returning to the fawn, which struggled violently on
their approach, they soon succeeded in allaying its
terror by gentle tones and kind treatment.  It yielded
passively to its fate, and consented to be led wherever they
chose.

The oranges were delicious after their long walk, and
now excessive thirst.  A few minutes served to rest their
weary limbs, and they had just begun to discuss the
propriety of returning to the tent, when the fawn pricked
up its ears with the signs of renewed alarm, a neighbouring
bush was agitated, and ere they could fully grasp
their guns and spring to their feet, Mum came dashing
up at full speed.

The boys were much surprised, and were afraid some
accident had happened.  Mum, however, showed no signs
of anything wrong; he came up wagging his cropped
tail, and looking exceedingly pleased.  He cast a hungry
look at the fawn, as though his mouth watered for a
taste, but he offered no interference.  On close
inspection, Harold observed a string tied round his neck, to
which was fastened a little roll of paper.  He hastily
took it off, and calling to Robert, they read these lines
in pencil:

"Come home quickly.  I see some one across the river;
he is waving a flag.  Mary."





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.. _`XVII`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XVII

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   MARY AND FRANK--EXAMINATION OF THE TENT--SMOKE
   SIGNALS--DEVICES--BRUTE MESSENGER--RAPT--BLAZING
   THE TREES--VOYAGE--DISASTROUS EXPEDITION--NEWS
   FROM HOME--RETURN TO THE TENT

.. vspace:: 2

When Robert and Harold left the tent that
morning, to look for the lost boat, Mary and
Frank watched with anxious eyes their retiring
forms.  It was painful to be left alone in that vast
solitude.  But the act was necessary, and Mary resolved
to bear it with cheerfulness.  In order therefore to
withdraw their minds from their situation, she proposed to
Frank to join her in exposing to the sun those articles in
the tent which had been wet by the rain.

Among these was a bundle of William's.  "Poor
William!" said Frank, "I wonder what became of him.
Don't you think, sister, he was drowned?"

"I do not know, buddy," she answered with a sigh;
"though I presume not.  William was a good swimmer,
and near shore.  O, I do wish we could hear from our
dear father, and he could hear from us!  See here,
Frank."  She pointed to a valise-trunk.  "This is
father's, it contains his razors, and all the little things
that he uses every day.  I wish I could open it, and
air everything for him; both top and bottom seem to be wet."

She tried the various keys in her bunch, and to her
delight found one that fitted the lock.  Some of its
contents were quite damp, and no doubt they were saved
from serious injury by her affectionate care.  In it she
spied a morocco case, which proved quite useful in the
end; it was a case of choice medicines.  Mary was careful
to disturb nothing, except so far as was needful for its
preservation; for, though her father had no concealments
that she knew of, this was his private property,
and she held its privacy sacred.  After drying
everything in it, they were replaced as before.

This work had occupied them about two hours, when
Frank, whose eyes were continually directed towards the
sea, with a lingering hope that he might see his father
sailing after them, exclaimed, "Sister, is not that a smoke
across the river?"

From the bluff where, three miles distant, the
opposite bank of the river overhung the sea, a bluish vapour
was curling upward.  It was evidently a smoke.  Mary
gazed at it with feelings both of hope and distrust.
Who made it?  What did it mean?  She ran for the spy
glass, drew it to its focus, steadied her trembling hands
against a tree, directed it towards the point, and almost
instantly exclaimed, "Some person is there.  I can see a
signal flying, like a handkerchief tied to a pole.  But
who can it be?  If it is one of our people, why does he
not come over?  O Frank, how I wish brother and cousin
Harold were here."

"Let us fire off the gun, sister," Frank replied, "that
will bring them back."

They took the gun, loaded by Robert for the purpose,
and fired it repeatedly.  Mary then took another peep
through the glass, and cried out--"He sees us, Frank,
whoever it is; he is waving his flag.  He must have heard
our guns, or seen their smoke.  I wonder I cannot see
him.  O, yes, there he is, lying on the ground, or half
lying.  Now he has put down the flag, and I can see him
dragging himself along the ground by one arm.  What
can it mean?  O, when will brother Robert and cousin
Harold come back!"

Mary's impatience made the time seem very long.  She
employed herself in every way that she could devise for
an hour, and then, turning to Frank with a bright look,
clapped her hands joyfully, and said, "I have it!  I'll
bring them back!  I mean to send a runner after them.
I can do it--O, yes, I can do it!"

Frank looked troubled.  "How can you?" he
inquired.  "I am the only one you have; and I am sure
I cannot find the way any more than you can."

"No, not you, nor myself," she said; "but one that I
know can find them, and can take a note to them
too."  She opened her trunk, took out a piece of paper,
pencilled upon it the note recorded in the last chapter,
tied it tightly with a string, which she fastened around
Mum's neck, and said, "Here is my messenger!  He
will find them, I warrant."  Then loosening the chain,
she said, "Hie on, Mum! hie on!"

Mum looked at her inquisitively, and was evidently in
doubt what to make of her command.  She called him to
the track of the boys, pointed to it, followed it for a few
steps, and encouraged him to proceed, when the intelligent
brute took the meaning, and with a whine of joy
sprang away at a rapid trot.

The boys reached the tent about one o'clock, leading
the fawn by the two handkerchiefs.  They had been
strongly tempted more than once to leave it behind, tied
to a bush, or to free it entirely, as it somewhat retarded
their movements; but having already taught it the art
of following, it came after them with rapid strides, and
for the latter half of their journey they had not to pull
it in the least.  Mary and Frank heard their distant
halloo, and ran to meet them.  They were delighted with
the new pet, and spent a moment in patting its snowy
sides; but the interest excited by the person across the
river absorbed every other consideration.  As soon as
Harold saw the smoke still faintly rising, he said, "I
saw that smoke this morning.  It was so faint I could
scarcely discern it darken the sky, and took it for mist.
That person has been there all night."

Robert had by this time adjusted the glass, and each
looked in turn.  They could see nothing more than a
little smoke.  Mary described the position in which she
saw the person lying, and dragging himself along, after
the guns were fired.  "Then," said Harold, "I will let
off another gun; and do you, Robert, place yourself so
that you can see whether he notices it."

Robert laid himself flat on the sand, rested the glass
upon a log of wood, that both he and it might be steady,
and said, "Now fire!"  About a quarter of a minute
after the discharge he exclaimed, "I see him!  He is
lying upon the sand beneath the shade of a cedar.  I see
him move.  He rests on one arm, as though he were
sick or hurt.  Now he drags himself as you describe,
sister.  There is his flag flying again.  He uses only one
arm.  The other hangs down uselessly by his side.  Who
can it be?  I wish he was in the sunshine, for then I could
see his complexion.  But I am sure it is not a white man."

"O, it is Riley!" said Frank.  "I know it is Riley
come after us.  Now we can go home again."

Harold took the glass and used it as Robert had done.
The person had by this time put down the flag, and was
reclining languidly against some support behind him.
Harold saw him grasp his left arm with his right hand,
move it gently, and lie back as before.  "That person is
badly hurt," he remarked.  "Instead of helping us, he
wants us to help him.  It must be some one who was
cast away in the storm last night.  Oh, for our boat!
Robert, we must go over and help him.  We can make a
raft.  It is not three miles across.  We have the oars
and paddle of our boat, and we can surely make that
distance and back this evening, by hard work.  Let us see
if there is not timber enough near at hand for a raft."

They looked at a fallen tree not far distant, and wished
it were only near the river bank.  "But what do I say?"
said Robert.  "The palmetto, which I felled for the
cabbage, is sixty or seventy feet long, straight as an
arrow, and what is better, just at the river side."

Off they went with ax, hatchet, and nails.  Mary
called after them to say, that if they would show her
the way, she and Frank would follow them with
something to eat.

"Do, cousin, if you please," said Harold.  "I, for
one, am hungry enough.  We will blaze a path for you
as we pass along.  Do follow us soon."

"Do you mean that you will chop the trees as you pass?"

"Yes, yes.  We will chop them so as to show the white
wood beneath the bark.  That is called a blaze.  You
cannot mistake your way."

The work of blazing the path scarcely detained them
at all; an experienced woodsman can do it with a single
blow of his ax as he moves, without stopping.  Many
of the trees were cut so as to show little more than the
mark of the hatchet.  Coming to the fallen palmetto, the
boys cut it into four lengths, one of twenty, two of
seventeen, and the remainder of ten feet long.  It was easy
work; the palmetto is a soft wood, and every blow of the
ax, after going beneath the hard surface, made a deep
cut.  Then with the aid of levers, they rolled the logs to
the water's edge; they pinned them together, sharpened
the bow for a cutwater, and fastened some cross pieces
on top for seats, and as receptacles for the thowl pins.

While thus engaged, Mary and Frank, guided by the
blazed trees, and attracted by the sound of the ax, came
with a basket full of provision, and setting it before
them, remarked, "I am sorry we have no water yet to
offer you, but here are some of the oranges we brought
the other day."

It is almost incredible what a deal of work can be
accomplished in a limited time, where a person works with
real vigour and good will.  The boys were themselves
astonished to find that shortly after three o'clock they were
seated on their raft, with Mary and Frank aboard,
rowing rapidly towards the landing at the tent.  A glance
now at the spring showed that they could supply
themselves with water, and while Harold scooped out a basin,
and dammed it against the occasional overflow of a wave,
Robert went with Mary and Frank to the tent, from
which he brought down the guns, a jug for water, the
spy-glass, and the morocco medicine case, of which Mary
had told him, and which he supposed might be needed by
the sick person.

Once more Robert and Harold embarked, leaving the
younger ones on the shore.  "Do not be alarmed," said
they, seeing the tears start into Mary's eyes at the
prospect of another separation.  "Make a good fire on shore,
and put your trust in God.  We will try to return before
dark; and we hope to bring you good news from home.
If the person yonder is a messenger from Tampa, we
will let you know by firing two guns; look out, and listen
for them about five minutes after you see us land."  With
a silent prayer to God from each party for safety and
success, the voyagers waved adieu to the others, and were
soon moving through the water at the rate of more than
two miles the hour.

However earnest they were to relieve the person
apparently in distress, the boys did not approach the opposite
shore without caution.  They knew themselves to be in
the land of savages, who were exceedingly ingenious and
patient in their schemes of violence.  Each took in turn
the glass, when relieved by the other in rowing, and
directed it upon the point to which they were going.
Approaching within a quarter of a mile of shore, they rested
upon their oars, and deliberately surveyed both the
person and the place.  They could distinctly see him
reclining against the cedar, and beckoning with his right hand.

"Harold," said Robert, "that is a negro, and I do
believe it is Sam, the carpenter.  O poor fellow! how
badly hurt he appears to be.  I wonder what can be the
matter!"

They pulled along very fast, and when within a
hundred yards of shore stopped and looked again.  "It is
Sam," said Robert.  "All's right!  Let us push on now!"

Running the raft ashore, and making it fast to their
ax, sunk in the sand for a stake, they hurried up the
bluff.  There indeed lay Sam, badly hurt and unable to
move.  They ran to him, and were about to throw their
arms around him, when he beckoned them off imploringly,
and said, "Stop! stop! for marcy sake don't shake
me hard.  Huddie[#] Mas Robbut!  Huddie Mas Harrol!
Bless de Lord to see you once mo'e!" the tears streaming
down the poor fellow's face.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] Howdye.

.. vspace:: 2

"Dear old Sam!" said the boys, "we are so glad to
see you.  But what is the matter?"

"O, I am kill!" he replied; "my arm and leg bote got
broke las' night.  You got any water?"

"Plenty--plenty.  We brought it for you," and they
both ran for the jug, but Harold was foremost, and
Robert returned.

"Mas Robbut," Sam asked, "wey de children?"

"We left them at the tent yonder.  They were the first
to see you; and they fired the guns that you heard."

"Bless dey young soul," he said, "I do lub 'em."

"But how is father?"

"Berry well--berry well--O Lord my leg!--'sept he
in mighty trouble 'bout you all."

"Here is the water, Sam," said Harold returning,
"let me hold the jug while you drink.  There, don't take
too much at first--it may hurt you.  How is uncle?"

Sam told him.  While they were conversing, Robert
ran to the raft, brought from it his gun, went to the most
conspicuous part of the bluff, and waving first a white
handkerchief, until he received an answering signal
from Mary and Frank, fired the two barrels at the
interval of several seconds.

"Please mossa, let me hab some mo'e water?" Sam
asked; then taking a hearty draught, he said, "Bless de
Lord for dis nice cool water!  It is so good!"

They inquired of him the nature and occasion of his
accident.  "It was de boat las' night--Riley's boat," said
he.  "It kill him and cripple me.  We come to look for
you all.  De win' blow and de sea rise; and me and
Riley went to draw the boat higher on sho', w'en a big
wave lif' de boat and pitch it right into Riley's breast.
It kill him I s'pose--I nebber see him no mo'e.  W'en I
come to my senses, I bin lie right on de beach, wi' my arm
and leg broke, and de water dashin' ober me.  I drag
myself up here las' night, by my well arm and leg; but if
it hadn't bin for de win' I nebber bin git here at all--it
lif' me up like a fedder."

"That is talking enough for this time, Sam," said
Robert; "you are too sick and weak, and we have no time to
spare.  Let us carry you to our tent, and there you may
talk as much as you will.  Is there anything we can do
for you before we move?"

"Only to give me a little mo'e water."  He had
already drunk a quart.  He also pointed them to a certain
spot, where they found Riley's rifle and its equipments,
together with an ax and several gourds.  These were
transferred to the raft; and Harold said, "Come, Sam,
tell us how we can help you.  The sun is fast going down,
and we have a long way to go.  Mary and Frank don't
wish to be left in the dark, and are no doubt looking for
us to start."

"De childun!  Bless 'em!" said Sam.  "I do want to
see dey sweet face once mo 'e.  But I 'fraid it will kill me
to move.  See how my arm and leg swell a'ready."

After much demurring, Sam consented to attempt the
removal; and though he groaned and shuddered at the
thought, it was effected with far less pain than he
expected.  They spread his blanket beside him, helped him
into the middle of it, lapped and pinned its edges over
a strong pole with splinters of cedar, and taking each an
end of the pole, lifted him gently from the ground, and
bore him at full length to the raft, where they had
previously prepared a couch of moss.

The sun sunk into the waters ere they had gone half a
mile; but the boys pulled with a hearty good will, and
moreover with the advantage of a little wind in their
favour.  It was dark when they landed, or rather, dark
as it could be with a bright moon nearly at the full.
Robert took occasion while at the helm to re-load his two
barrels with powder, and repeat the signal agreed upon.
As the darkness deepened they could see afar off the
figures of Mary and Frank standing upon the beach, before
a fire which they had made as a guide to the voyagers,
and listening apparently to every thump of the oars.
Long before words could be distinguished, Frank's clear
voice rang over the waters in a tone of inquiry.  The
two boys united their voices at a high musical pitch, and
sung out, "Sam!  Sam!" repeating it at intervals until
they perceived from the tones of the children on shore
that the name had been heard.  Presently Frank's voice
shouted shrilly, "Howdy, Sam?"  Poor Sam tried to
answer, but his voice was too weak.  Robert and Harold
answered for him.  Mary would have called out too;
but the truth is she was crying for joy, and was not able
to utter a word.





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.. _`XVIII`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XVIII

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   NIGHT LANDING--CARRYING A WOUNDED PERSON--SETTING
   ONE'S OWN LIMBS WHEN BROKEN--SPLINTING A
   LIMB--REST TO THE WEARY

.. vspace:: 2

It was a picturesque scene as the raft drew near
shore.  The soft moonlight upon the bluff--the
faint sparkle of the briny water broken by the
oars--the lurid light from the resinous fire--the dark
shadows and excited movements of Mary and Frank--formed
altogether a group worthy of a painter's skill.

Frank could scarcely be restrained from rushing
through the water to welcome the new comer; but when
he heard how weak he was, and in what bad condition,
he waited in quietness.  Harold took him in his arms,
and Robert made a stepping place for Mary with the
oars, and they both shook hands with the poor fellow,
and told him how sorry they were to see him so badly hurt.

Leaving Harold and Frank at the raft, Robert and
Mary hastened to the tent to prepare a place for the
invalid, that he need not be disturbed after being once
removed.  They lit a candle, piled the trunks in a corner
of the room, and taking most of the moss that constituted
their beds, laid it in another corner, remarking, "We can
easily obtain more; or we can even sleep on the ground
tonight, if necessary, for his sake."

"I wish we had an old door, or even a plank long
enough for him to lie upon, as we bring him from the
raft," said Robert, "it would be so much easier to his
broken bones, if they could be kept straight.  But the
blanket is next best, and with that we must be content."

By the time the transfer was completed, the boys were
exceedingly weary, having been disturbed all the
preceding night, and engaged in vigorous and incessant
effort ever since they arose from their short sleep.  They
sat for half an hour revelling in the luxury of rest.
Sam appeared to suffer so much and to be so weak, that
they discouraged him from talking, and took their own
seats outside the tent, that he might be able to sleep.

"What have you done with the fawn, sister?"
inquired Robert, willing to divert their minds from the
painful thoughts that were beginning to follow the
excitement of hearing from home.

"O, we fed it with sassafras leaves and grass," said
she, "and gave it water.  After that we sewed the torn
skin to its place upon the neck, and it appears to be
doing very well."

"You are quite a surgeon, cousin Mary," Harold
remarked.  "I think we shall have to call you our 'Sister
of Mercy.'  If, however, our handkerchiefs are still tied
to it, I will suggest that it may be best for it, as well as
for us, that you make a soft pad for its neck, and put
on the dog's collar."

"We have done that already," she replied.  "I
thought of it as soon as we returned to the tent and saw
the dog's chain.  But as for my being a surgeon, it
requires very little skill to know that the sooner a fresh
wound is attended to, and the parts brought to the right
place for healing the better."

"That is a fact," said Robert, starting, as a deep
groan from the tent reached his ears; "and that reminds
me that perhaps Sam is suffering at this moment for the
want of having his bones set.  We must attend to them at
once."

"Set a broken arm and leg!" exclaimed Harold in
surprise.  "Why, Robert, do you know how to do it?"

"Certainly," he replied.  "There is no mystery
about it; and father, you know, teaches us children
everything of the kind, as soon as we are able to learn
it.  I have never set the bones of a *person*, but I did once
of a dog, and succeeded very well."

Harold asked him to describe the process.  Robert
replied, "If the bones appear to have moved from their
proper place, all that you have to do is to pull them apart
lengthways by main strength so that they will naturally
slide together, or else can be made to do so by the pressure
of your hand.  Then you must bandage the limb with
strips of cloth, beginning at its extremity, so as to keep
the parts in place; and over this you must bind a splint,
to keep the bone from being bent or jostled out of place.
That is all."

They went into the tent, and made inquiry of Sam
whether his bones did not need attention.  He replied
that maybe his leg was in need of setting, but that as for
his arm he had *sot* that himself, and that it was in need
only of splintering.

"You set it yourself!  Why, how did you manage
that?" inquired Robert.

"You remember, Mas Robbut, I bin hab my arm broke
once befo'e; so I knowed jes what to do," replied Sam,
and then he went on to describe his process.  He said
that finding the bones out of place, he had tied the hand
of his broken arm to a root of the cedar, and strained
himself back until the bones were able to pass, when he
pressed them into place by means of his well hand.

After that he tore some strips from his clothing, and
tied the hand over his breast, at the same time stuffing
his bosom full of moss, to keep the bone straight, and
over all passing a bandage, to keep the arm against his
side.  He had made a similar attempt to set the bone
of his leg, but it pained him so much that he had given
up the attempt.

On examination, Robert learned that the arm was
broken between the elbow and shoulder, and that the leg
was fractured between the knee and ankle.  "The leg,"
said he, "is safe enough.  Below the knee are two bones,
and only one of these is broken.  Would you like to have
the bandage and splints put on your arm tonight?"

Sam replied that he was sure he should sleep better if
Mas Robert was not too tired to attend to it, for he
would be "mighty onrestless" while his bones were in
that "fix."

The wearied boy pondered a moment, and asked his
sister to tear one of the sheets or table-cloths into strips
about as wide as her three fingers, and to sew the ends
together, to make a bandage five or six yards long, while he
and Harold prepared the splints.  They then went to
the palmetto tree, half a mile distant, and selecting one
of the broadest and straightest of its flat, polished limbs,
returned to the tent, and produced from it a lath about
the length of the arm.  Having bandaged the limb from
the finger-ends to the shoulder, they bound it to this
splint, which extended from the armpit to the extremity,
and Robert pronounced the operation complete.

Sam was profuse in his praise of Robert's surgery,
bestowing upon it every conceivable term of laudation, and
seeming withal to be truly grateful.  "Tankee, Mas
Robert!  Tankee, Mas Harold!  Tankee, my dear little
misses!  Tankee, Mas Frank too!  Tankee, ebbery body!
I sure I bin die on dat sand-bank, 'sept you all bin so kind
to de poor nigger."

"No more of that, Sam," said Robert, "you were
hurt in trying to help us; it is but right we should help
you."

At the close of this scene, the young people prepared
for bed.  It was past ten o'clock, and they were sadly
in need of rest; but so strongly had their sympathies
been excited for their black friend, that even little Frank
kept wide awake, waiting his turn to be useful.  When,
however, their work was done, and they had lain down
to rest, they needed no lullaby to hush them into slumber.
Within twenty minutes after the light was extinguished,
and during the livelong night, nothing was to be heard
in that tent but the hard breathing of the wearied
sleepers.  Thanks to God for sleep!  None but the weary
know its blessedness.





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.. _`XIX`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XIX

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   THE SURPRISE AND DISAPPOINTMENT--NAMING THE
   FAWN--SAM'S STORY--DEPRESSION AFTER EXCITEMENT--GREAT
   MISFORTUNE

.. vspace:: 2

Had there been nothing to excite them the
company might have overslept themselves on the
following morning.  But shortly after daylight
they were awaked by an incident that hurried them
all out of bed.  It was nothing less than hearing Frank
exclaim, in a laughing, joyous tone, "O father,
howdy! howdy!  I am so glad you have come!"

The dull ears of the sleepers were caught by these
welcome words, and all sprang to their feet.

"Father!  Father!  Is he here?" they asked.
"Where, Frank? where!"

"Yonder," said he, sitting bolt-upright in bed,
rubbing his half-opened eyes with one hand, and with the
other pointing to a corner of the tent.  "Isn't that
father?  I saw him there just now."

It was only a dream.  Frank had been thinking more
than usual of home during the day and night past, and
it was natural that his visions of the night should be of
the same character with his dreams of the day.  He
fancied that his father had found the lost boat, and
having tied it at the landing, was coming to the tent.
Poor fellow! he was sadly disappointed to learn that it
was all a dream.  The picture was so vivid, and his
father looked so real, that for a moment he was
perfectly confused.  Mary tried to comfort him by saying,
"Never mind, buddy; we *will* see him coming some of
these days.  But though father is not here, you
remember that Sam is, and that he is going to tell us about
home, as soon as he is able to talk.  Come, let us get up,
and see how he is."  The history of the preceding day
dawned slowly upon the mind of the bewildered child,
and the sense of disappointment was gradually lost in
the hope of hearing Sam's story.

The wounded man had spent a night of suffering.
His leg pained him so intensely, that several times he
had been on the point of calling for assistance; but
hearing from every one that peculiar breathing which
betokens deep sleep, and remembering that they had
undergone immense fatigue, he stifled his groans, and
bore his sufferings in silence.

While Robert and Harold were occupied with kind
offices around the couch, Mary and Frank went to see
after the fawn.  Its neck was somewhat sore to the
touch, but otherwise it appeared to be doing well.  They
gave it more water, hay and sassafras leaves.  Frank
offered it also a piece of bread; but wild deer are not
used to cookery, and the fawn rejected it; though, after
becoming thoroughly tamed, it became so fond of bread
of every kind, that it would follow Frank all over the
woods for a piece no bigger than his finger.  "What
shall we call her?" asked Frank.

"We will have a consultation about that," replied
Mary, as she saw the others approaching.  "Cousin
Harold, what name would you give?"

"Snow or Lily, I think, would suit her colour very
well," he answered.

"Brother Robert, what is yours?"

"As she came from among the flowers," he said, "I
think Flora would do very well."

"Yes," added Mary, "and very pretty names all
Frank, what is yours?"

"Anna," said he, "I would like to talk to her
sometimes, and to make believe that she was Sister Anna."

"That would sound almost too much like Nannie,"
Mary objected, and then asked, "Did you say, brother,
that you gave her to me?"  He replied, "Yes."
"Then," she added, "I will call her Dora, for I heard
father say that that name means a gift."

"Dora let it be," said Robert, patting its delicate
head.  "Miss Dora, I wish you a speedy cure, and a
pleasant captivity."

About nine o'clock Sam awakened from a refreshing
sleep, and the anxious company assembled at his side to
hear what he had to tell about home.  "I a'nt got much
to tell," said Sam, "I lef so soon a'ter you all, dat
you know most all sept what happen to me and Riley
on de way."

"Let us hear it all," said Robert.

"But before you begin," interrupted Mary, "do tell
us about William.  Was he drowned or not?"

(For the sake of the reader who may not be familiar
with the lingo of southern and sea-coast negroes, the
narrative will be given in somewhat better English,
retaining, however, the peculiarities of thought and
drapery.)

"O, no, Misses," he replied to Mary's question.  "He
only fell backward into the water, and was a little
strangled.  He rose directly, and gave the alarm.  I
suppose the reason that you did not hear him was that
he was under the wharf, holding tight to a post, for
fear some of the fish might come and take hold of him
too.  He came with me to Riley's Island."

"Now do you begin at the beginning," said Robert,
"and tell us one thing after another, just as it happened.
If there is anything of which we wish to hear more
particularly, we will stop you to inquire."

"Well," said Sam, "you know that when you left I
was working in the back room.  I was putting in the
window sash, when I heard your father talking to some
one at the door, and saying, 'Stay here, I will be out
in a moment!'  He went into his room, came out with
something in his hand, and spoke a word to the man at
the door, when we heard William's voice, crying out,
'Help! help!' as if he was half smothered.  Your
father said, 'What can be the matter?'  I heard him
and the stranger running towards the bluff, and I ran
too.  When I reached a place where I could see you
(for the little cedars were between the house and the
water), your father had just fallen upon his knees.
He had his two hands joined together, and was praying
very hard; he was pale as a sheet, and groaned as if
his heart was breaking.  For a while I could hardly
take my eyes off from him; but I could see you in the
boat, going over the water like a dove through the air,
leaving a white streak of foam behind.  Presently your
father rose from his knees, and said, 'It is a devil fish!
He cannot hold that gait long.  Sam, do you and
William (for William had by this time come up from
the water), get the canoe ready in a minute, and let
us pursue them;' then he wrung his hands again, and
said, 'O, my God, have mercy, and spare my children!'

"William and I ran a few steps toward the canoe, but
I came back to tell master that the canoe could not
float--a piece of timber had fallen from the wharf, and punched
a great hole in it.  Then the soldier spoke, and said,
'The Major has a fine sail boat, Doctor.  If you can
do no better, I will ride very fast, and ask him to send
it.'  'Do, if you please,' master said.  'Tell the Major
he is my only help on earth.  Lay your horse to the
ground, good soldier, I will pay all damages.'  The
soldier turned short off, clapped his spurs to his horse,
and made him lay himself almost straight to the ground.

"When your father came to the canoe, he said quickly,
'We can mend that hole, and set off long before the
boat comes from Tampa.  Peter, make a fire here at
once--quick! quick!  Judy, run to the house, and bring
down a pot, and the cake of wax, and a double handful
of oakum.  William, do you go to the house too, and
bring the side of harness leather, two hammers, and a
paper of the largest tacks.  And Sam,' said he to me,
'let us take hold of the boat, and turn it over ready for
mending.'  The hole was big as my head, and there
were two long cracks besides; but we worked very fast,
and the boat was ready for the water in less than an
hour.  Your father worked as hard as any of us, but
every once in a while he turned to watch you, and
looked very sorrowful.  At last you went so far away
that we could barely see you, like a little speck, getting
smaller and smaller.  When you were entirely out of
our sight, your father took his other spy glass, went on
top of the shed, and watched you till we were ready to
go.  Then he came to us, and said to me and William,
'I have concluded to send you off alone; you can row
faster without me.  I will wait for the Major's boat.
The children are now passing Riley's Island, and
turning down the coast.  Make haste to Riley, and say from
me, that if he brings me back my children I will give
him whatever he asks.  If he needs either of you, do
you, Sam, go with him, and do you, William, return
to me; otherwise do you both keep on so far as you can
with safety, and if you succeed, I will give you also
whatever you ask.  If you can hear anything of them
from Riley, make a smoke on the beach; if you learn
anything good make two smokes, about a hundred yards
apart; I will watch for them.  And now, my good
fellows, good-bye! and may the Lord give you a safe
passage and good success!'  Neither I nor William
could say one word.  We took hold of master's hands,
knelt down, and kissed them.  And, somehow, I saw
his hand was very wet; we could not help it, for we
love him the same as if he was our father, and the tears
would come.

"We reached the island about twelve o'clock.  Riley
was gone.  His wife said he saw the boat pass, knew
who was in it, and went after it, without stopping for
more than a calabash of water.  When we heard that,
we jumped into our own boat again, and pushed on.
Riley's wife brought down a bag of parched corn, a
dried venison ham, and his gun and ammunition, saying
that if he went he would need these things.  We begged
her to make two fires on the beach; for we thought that
although it was not the best news in the world to hear
that you had been carried so far away, it was good
news to hear that you had not been drowned, and that
Riley had gone after you.

"In about an hour we met Riley coming back.  He
had gone to a high bluff, on an island south of his,
and watched you until you had passed out of sight.
He was now returning home, uncertain whether to go
after you in the morning, or to give you up altogether.
When we gave him your father's message, he said he
would go, for that the Doctor was a good man, but
that he must return home for a larger boat; that the
coast below was dangerous, and that the boat in which
he was was not safe.  So we came to his island, where
I staid with him that night, and William returned to
Bellevue.

"As we left the island at daybreak we saw a vessel
sailing towards Tampa, but too far for us to hail.  That
day we did not search the coast at all, more than to
keep a sharp look out, for we knew that you had gone
far beyond.  But the next three days we went into every
cove and inlet, though not very far into any of them.
Riley said that since the change of Indian Agents, many
of his people were hostile to the whites, and to all
Indians who were friendly with them, and that perhaps
he should not be safe.

"We saw some Indians on the first few days, but the
last day we saw none at all.  Riley said that this coast
was barren and bad; nobody visited it.  The Caloosa
Indians, he said, used to live here, but they had been
starved out.  There was only a narrow strip of ten
miles wide, between the sea and the swamps within, and
a great fire had swept over it a few summers before, and
burnt up almost all the trees.  The Indians supposed
that this part of the coast was cursed by the Great
Spirit.

"All that day we found the coast so full of reefs and
shoals, and covered with breakers, that we could scarcely
get along; and we talked several times of turning back.
These breakers that you see from the bluff, stretch
from a great ways above.  Riley did not like to pass
them.  He said he was afraid we could not stop
anywhere, except on an island, which no Indian dared to
visit; for that it was always enchanted with *white deer*,[#]
and the curse of the Great Spirit was so strong upon
it that no Indian could go there and live.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] It is surprising to learn how widespread is the
   superstition among semi-civilized and uncivilized
   nations that white deer
   are connected with enchantment.

.. vspace:: 2

"We kept on, however, as well as we could, and hoped
to find some place where we could pass the surf upon
the shoals, and reach the shore, before we came to that
terrible island.  But the wind was against us, and also
blowing on shore; and we made so little headway, that
towards evening we had to force our way through the
smoothest place we could find, and even then were nearly
swamped more than once.  When we landed it was dark.
We saw a fire afar off, and thinking it might be yours,
I tried to persuade Riley to go to it; but perhaps he
thought it was on *that island*, though he did not say so;
he replied only that we were going to have a storm soon,
and that we must be preparing for it.  We drew the
boat as high on the beach as possible, and made it fast
by his painter, made of twisted deerskins.

"After we landed I cut some wood, and tried to make
a fire; but before we could set it a-blazing the wind
came and the tide rose.  We went to the boat, and
drew it up higher on shore, and then higher still; but
after a while the wind blew so hard, and the waves rolled
so high, that it was not safe to be near the boat at
all.  Yet we could not afford to lose it; so we went down
for the last time to draw it up, when all at once a big
wave came and pitched it upon us as I told you.

"I had a terrible night.  The water from the beach
dashed over me while lying under the cedar tree to
which I had crawled, and the rain poured down.  The
wind kept such a roaring that I suppose if a cannon
had been fired a mile off you could not have heard it.

"The next morning I tried to set my broken bones.
Then I dragged myself to the edge of the bluff to see if
Riley's body, or the boat, or anything was in sight.  But
nothing was to be seen except the black water rolling in
from sea.  As the light became stronger, I saw afar off
your tent and smoke, and I was then sure that the
fire we saw the night before was yours.  I tried every
way to make you see me.  I took Riley's rifle, and
snapped it, but the powder inside was wet.  Then I
went to a bush, and with my one hand cut a long switch,
to which I tied my handkerchief, and waved and waved
it; but nobody saw me.  I could see *you* very well (for
my sight is good) sitting down, or walking about, as if
you were in trouble about something.  Then I tried to
raise a smoke.  Everything was wet; but the tree near
me had a hollow, and in the hollow was some dry rotten
wood.  I spread some powder on the driest pieces, and
by snapping the rifle over it several times, set it on
fire; but it was a long time before I could find anything
to burn well.  While I was trying at the fire, you, Mas
Robbut and Mas Harrol, went off; but I kept on
throwing into the fire whatever trash and small wood
I could collect by crawling after them, until I was sure
Miss Mary and Mas Frank would see it.  At last I
heard their guns, and knew by their motions that they
saw me; and for a time I felt safe.  But you were so
long time away, and I was in such pain, that it seemed
to me I must die before you could help me, though I
saw you come to the tent, and heard your guns.  And
when, late in the evening, I saw that you had got a
boat, or something of that sort, and were coming over
the river to me, I was so glad that I--I--"

Sam did not finish the sentence.  The tears were
streaming down his black face, and the young people
were weeping with him.  There were but few questions
to be asked.  Sam's narrative had been so full and
particular, that it anticipated almost every inquiry.

The severe labours of the day before, together with
excitement and loss of rest, had so far relaxed the
energies of the larger boys, that they did little more
that day than hang about the tent, and converse with
Sam and each other about home and their own adventures.
Several times Harold proposed to Robert to join
him in visiting the beach, to ascertain whether their
signal had stood the storm, and if not, to replant it;
but Robert ever had some reason ready for not going
just then.  At last, late in the afternoon, they took the
spade and hoe, and went to the beach.  The flag was
prostrate, and lay half buried in the sand; and what
was their dismay, on approaching the bluff, to see a
vessel that had evidently passed the mouth of the river
just beyond the shoals, and was now about four miles
distant, sailing to the southward.

"O, cousin!" exclaimed Robert, "there is our
vessel--gone!  It is the cutter!  Father is aboard of her!
They came as near as they could, looking for our signal--and
there it lies!  Oh--h!" said he, wringing his hands,
"why did we not come sooner?"

"I believe you are correct," replied Harold, looking
sadly after the departing vessel; "we have missed our
chance."

There remained one solitary hope.  It was possible,
barely possible, that some one on board might be looking
that way with a spy-glass, and that the signal might yet
be seen.  The boys eagerly seized the flag-staff; they set
the lower end upon the ground; they waved it to and
fro in the air; they shook their handkerchiefs; they
tossed up their hats and coats, and shouted with all their
might (vain shout!), "Brig ahoy!"  They gathered
grass, leaves, twigs, everything inflammable, and raised
a smoke, as large as possible, and kept it rising, higher,
higher.  They were too late; the vessel kept steadily on
her way.  She faded gradually from sight, and
disappeared for ever.

The two boys sat down, and looked sorrowfully over
the distant waters.  They were pale with excitement,
and for a long time neither said a word.

"They may return," said Harold; "let us plant our
flag-staff."

They dug a deep hole, set the pole in the middle,
threw in the dirt, packed it tightly with the handle of
the hoe, and then returned slowly to the tent, to inform
the others of their sad misfortune.





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.. _`XX`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XX

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   SPECULATIONS AND RESOLVES--FISHING--INVENTORY OF
   GOODS AND CHATTELS--ROASTED FISH--PALMETTO
   CABBAGE--TOUR--SEA-SHELLS, THEIR USES--THE
   PELICAN--NATURE OF THE COUNTRY--STILL HUNTING--WILD
   TURKEYS AGAIN--WORK ON THE TENT

.. vspace:: 2

The little company did not retire early that
night.  Sorrow kept them awake.  They sat for
a long time speculating upon the probable
destination of the vessel, and upon their own expectations
in the case.  To one it seemed probable that their father
had obtained the use of the cutter, for the purpose of
examining the coast; to another, that he had been
brought by it to the place where they had last been
seen, and that he was now not far away; to another, that
he would go down as far as the Florida Keys, and there
employ some of the wreckers to join him in the search.
At any rate they were sure that a search was going on,
and that it would not be long before they were
discovered, and taken home.

Ere retiring to rest that night they adopted a series
of resolutions, the substance of which was that they
should live every day in the expectation of being taken
off, and yet husband their resources, as though they
were to continue there for months.

1st.  They were to keep their signal always flying.

2d.  To be as much as possible on the lookout.

3d.  To have a pile of wood ready for a smoke near the
signal.

4th.  To keep on hand a store of provisions sufficient
for several weeks.

5th.  To examine, and know exactly what stores they
possessed.

6th.  To use no more of their permanent stock than was
absolutely necessary, but to live upon the resources of
the island.

7th.  To fit up their habitation more securely, that in
case of being assailed by such another storm as that of
Sunday night, they should enjoy a more perfect protection.

8th.  In every possible way to be ready either for
departing home, or continuing there an indefinite length
of time.

In consequence of these resolutions, the first business
to which they attended on the following morning, was
the preparation of the pile of wood for their signal by
smoke; and the next, the provision of a stock of food.
As a temporary fulfilment of this last named duty,
Harold went with Frank to obtain a supply of fish,
leaving Robert and Mary at the tent, to make out the
proposed inventory of goods.  Both parties fulfilled their
contracts, and on coming together, Harold reported eight
large trout, besides a number of crabs, and a small
turtle; and Robert read a list, showing that besides the
stores put up by their father for Riley, and those brought
by Sam and Riley in their boat, consisting of bread and
bacon, parched corn and dried venison, there were
rations for a full fortnight or more.

Of the trout brought by Harold, all except one had
been cleaned, and presented to Mary; the last he
reserved for the purpose, he said, of giving them another
specimen of wild-woods' cookery.  Before sitting down
to dinner, he took this one without any preparation
whatever of scaling or cleansing, and wrapping it in
green leaves, laid it in the ashes to roast.  It was soon
done.  Then peeling off the skin, he helped each to the
pure white meat in such a way as to leave the skeleton
and its contents untouched.  Mary's taste was offended
by the sight of a dish so rudely prepared; but hearing
the others speak in surprise of its peculiarly delicate
flavour, she also was tempted to try, and then partook
of it as heartily as any one else.

While Harold was absent on his fishing excursion,
Robert, having completed his inventory, had obtained
another stick of palmetto cabbage.  By Sam's instruction,
this was freed from every particle of the green
and hard covering, boiled in three separate waters, in
the last of which was put a little salt.  When thoroughly
done, it was laid in a dish, and seasoned with butter.
Prepared thus it was a real delicacy, partaking of the
combined flavours of the cauliflower and the artichoke.

Bent resolutely upon living as real "marooners" on
the productions of the island, the boys felt that it was
necessary for them first to know something more of the
country around.  It was therefore agreed that they
should devote that day to a combined tour of hunting
and exploration.  To this Mary also consented, for she
had now become more accustomed to her situation, and
moreover had Sam with her as an adviser.

Taking an early breakfast, and calling Mum, they
departed, leaving Fidelle as a protector to Mary and
Frank.  The course which they pursued was along the
coast.  For a mile they walked on the smooth hard
beach, and saw it covered with innumerable shells, of
all sorts and sizes.  Some were most beautifully fluted;
others were encircled with spurs or sharp knots; some
were tinted with an exquisite rose colour; others were
snowy white, and others of a dark mahogany.  Conchs
of a large size were abundant, and there were myriads
of little rice-shells.

"I wonder if these shells can be put to no use?"
asked Harold.

"Certainly," Robert responded.  "If we need lime
we can obtain it by burning them.  These large round
shells may be cut so as to make handsome cups and
vases.  The long ones are used by many poor people
for spoons.  And the conch makes a capital trumpet;
our negroes on the seaboard make a hole in the small
end for this purpose.  We often hear the boatmen
blowing their conchs at night; and when the sound comes
to us across the water, as an accompaniment to their
boat songs, it is particularly sweet."

On learning these uses of the conch shell, Harold
selected several fine specimens, and threw them higher
on the beach, remarking, that in case they remained upon
the island they would need other signals than those of
the gun or the smoke for calling each other's attention;
and that he intended to try his skill in converting some
of these shells into trumpets.

Pocketing some of the most delicate varieties for Mary
and Frank, they continued down the coast, attracted by
a large white object near the water-side.  At first it
appeared to be a great heap of foam thrown there by
the sea, but soon they saw it move, and Robert
pronounced it to be a pelican.  "It is a pity that it is not
eatable," said he, "for one bird would furnish more
flesh than a larger gobbler.  But it is fishy."

"O, if that be its only fault we can correct it,"
replied Harold.  "I recollect one day when you were
sea-sick, hearing the captain say that he had eaten
every sea-bird that flies, except Mother Cary's chickens;
and that he took off the skin as you would that of a
deer or rabbit, and soaked the flesh in strong brine; or
if he was on shore he buried it for a day or two in the
earth, and that then the flesh was pleasant enough.  He
said, moreover, that the fishy taste of water-fowl comes
mostly from the skin.  Come, let us get that fellow.  I
cannot help thinking what a nice shawl, in cold or
rainy weather, his skin would make for Mary, if properly
cured with all its feathers on."

The pelican, however, saved them all future trouble
on account of either its flesh or its skin, for, being a
very shy bird, it flew away long before they came
within gunshot.  Having ascended the bluff, they stood
upon a bank of sand, and looking far down the coast
saw it curve out of sight, without offering any
inducement to pursue it further.  Immediately upon the
bluff, and for a quarter of a mile inland, the country
was bare of trees, except here and there a cluster of
dwarfish cedars, overtopped by tall palmettoes; but in
the interior the forest trees appeared rising into loftier
magnificence the farther they grew from the sea.
Striking across this barren strip--which, however, was
pleasantly varied by patches of cacti loaded with superb
crimson pears, and by little wildernesses of chincopin
(dwarf-chestnut) bushes, whose open burrs revealed each
a shining jet black cone--and entering the kind of
forest where game might be expected, Harold gave
Mum the order to "Hie on"; and he was soon dashing
about in every direction.

"I suppose," said Robert, "that you intend to *still
hunt*.  But if so, you must remember that I have the
art yet to learn; and if you wish not to be interrupted
by my blunders, you had better describe now, before we
go to work, how it is that still hunters find their game,
and then how they approach it."

"They find their game by various means," Harold
replied, acknowledging, at the same time, the justice
of Robert's remarks.  "Some by their own keen eyes
alone in watching or in tracking; others by a dog trained
for the purpose, as we expect to do.  This last is the
easier if the dog is good.  When Mum has discovered
a trail, he will keep directly before us, and as the trail
freshens he will grow more cautious, until at last his
step becomes as stealthy and noiseless as a cat.  We must
then be cautious too.  If the woods are close so that we
cannot see the deer, nor they see us until we are upon
them, our success will depend upon the quickness of
our shots, and the certainty of our aim; but if the woods
are open, so that we can see them afar off, we must use
the cover of a hill or of a thicket to conceal our approach,
or else one of us must leave the dog with the other, and
advance upon them in the open woods."

"But you do not mean to say," Robert argued, in
surprise, "that deer will allow you to come upon them
in broad day-light, and shoot them down?"

"Yes, I do," he replied; "and it is easy enough if
you will pursue the right plan.  When a deer feeds,
he directs his eyes to the ground; and during that
time he sees nothing except what is just at his nose.
That is the opportunity you must take to advance.  The
moment he lifts his head you must stand stock still;
and if you can manage to be of the colour of a stump,
he will be apt to take you for one."

"But can you stop soon enough to imitate a stump!"

"Of course you must be quick; but this brings me
to speak of another fact.  A deer never puts down nor
raises his head without first shaking his tail.  Keep
your eye therefore steadily fixed upon him, and guide
your motions by his signs.  Old Torgah used to give me
an amusing account of the difference between deer and
turkeys in this respect; for, with all their sagacity, in
some things deer are very simple, while the turkey is
so keen and watchful as to be called by hunters 'the wit
of the woods.'  Old Torgah's account, given in his
broken English is this: ''Ingin,' said he, 'see deer
feed, and creep on him when his head down.  Deer
shake 'ee tail; Injin stop still.  Deer look hard at him,
and say "stump! stump! nothing but stump!"  Presently
Injin creep close, and shoot him down.  But Injin
see turkey feed, and creep on him.  Turkey raise 'ee long
neck to look, and Injin stand still like a stump; but
turkey never say "stump!" once; he say, "dat old Injin
now!" and he gone.'  But see, Mum has struck the trail
of something.  Notice how eager he is, yet how patiently
he waits for us.  Come, let us follow."

In Robert's opinion, Mum's reputation for patience
was, on the present occasion, not deserved; for his pace
was so rapid that it was difficult for them to keep
within sight, and moreover he soon sprang ahead, and
burst into a full loud cry.  "I thought you said that
he hunted in silence," he remarked, almost out of breath
with running.

"I said he was silent on the trail of *deer*," replied
Harold, "but these are turkeys.  Do you not see the
deep print of their toes in running!  Mum knows what
he is about.  His racing after them will cause them to
fly into the trees; and then as he stands below and
barks, they will keep their eyes fixed on him, and never
notice us.  There they are!  See in that oak!  Robert,
do you advance behind the cover of yonder mossy tree.
I will find some other place.  But as my rifle will
carry farther than your smooth bore, do not mind me,
except to await my signal.  As soon as you are ready
to fire, let me know by a whistle; if I am ready, I will
answer you; and then do you fire about a second after
you hear me.  I will take the highest turkey."

They advanced silently but rapidly.  Each came
within a fair distance.  Mum kept up a furious barking
as the hunters approached.  One whistle was heard, then
another; three reports followed in quick succession; and
four turkeys, two of them magnificent gobblers, tumbled
heavily from the tree.

"Well done for us!  Hurra!" shouted the boys, rushing
upon their prey.

It was indeed good shooting, although part of it was
accidental.  Robert fairly won the credit of his two
shots, having brought down the birds he aimed at; but
the ball from Harold's rifle had passed through the eye
of the one which he had selected, and broken the legs
of another unseen by him beyond, and it now lay
floundering upon the ground unhurt, except in its
fractured limbs, but unable to rise.

The young hunters swung their prizes over a pole,
of which each took an end, and then turned their faces
homewards.  The distance was not more than two miles,
but burdened as they were with guns and game, and
compelled to cut their way through frequent network
of the grape-vine and yellow jessamine, and dense masses
of undergrowth, they were nearly two hours in making
it.  Frank spied them from afar, and giving Mary a
call, bounded to meet them.  "Whew!" he whistled,
on seeing their load, "what a bundle of turkeys!"  He
offered to help them carry a part of the load, but they
were too weary to stop and untie.  They preferred that
Mary and Frank should show their kindness, by
providing them with some cool water.  "We will pay you
for your trouble," said they, patting their pockets,
which were stuffed full of something heavy; "make
haste, and let us have it."

By the time they had wiped their wet brows, and
begun to enjoy their rest, the water came.  The boys
first emptied their pockets of the shells and chincopins,
found during their ramble, then cooled themselves by
bathing their wrists; after which they drank, and
casting themselves at length upon their couches of moss,
they talked across the tent to Sam, who seemed to be as
much elated as any of them with their success.

It was now past the middle of the day.  The afternoon
was spent in working upon their tent.  Their object
was to make it more impervious to rain and drift, in
case of another storm; and this they effected by raising
the floor, and by spreading the sail of their boat as a
sort of outer awning.





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.. _`XXI`:

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   CHAPTER XXI

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   RAINY DAY--THE KITCHEN AND FIRE--HUNTING THE
   OPOSSUM

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It was fortunate for the young adventurers that they
had executed so promptly their intended work upon
the tent, for though they had no heavy wind, the
rain poured down during the whole night; and when
they arose next morning, the sky was full of low scudding
clouds, which promised plenty of rain for all that day,
and perhaps for days to come.  But, though the tent
was dry as a hay loft, there were several deficiencies.
They had but a meagre supply of wood, and their kitchen
fire was without a shelter.  The wind and rain were
both chilly; and, it was plain, that without somebody's
getting wet they must content themselves with a cold
breakfast, and a shivering day.

"Why did we not think of this before?" Robert
querulously asked.

"Simply because we had other things to think of,"
replied Harold.  "For my part, I am thankful that we
have a dry tent."

"So am I," rejoined Robert, changing his tone.  "But
I should be still more thankful if we had a place where
we could sit by the fire."

"Very likely, *now* since we know from experience,
how uncomfortable it is to be without.  But I doubt if
any of us would be half so thankful, were it not for
being put to inconvenience.  I recollect a case in point.
My mother was once taken sick while we were travelling
through the Indian nation.  At that time the Indians
were becoming hostile, and we were every day expecting
them to declare war.  O, how troubled we all were!
I remember that every morning we made it a point
to say how thankful we were for spending another
night, without being scalped.  But afterwards, when
we had returned home, and could spend our days and
nights in peace, we forgot to be thankful at all."

Robert smiled at the naturalness of the description,
and remarked, "Well, I think we shall be thankful now
for a fire and shelter.  Can we not devise some way to
have them?"

The result of this conference was, that in the course
of an hour they set up the boat-awning as a sort of
kitchen, enclosed on three sides by the remaining
bed-sheets, and having a fire at the windward gable, near
which they sat very cosily on boxes and trunks brought
from the tent.

Contrary to their expectation, the rain began to abate
about noon, and long before sunset the surface of the
earth was so much dried, and the drops left upon the
trees and bushes so thoroughly exhaled or shaken off
by a brisk wind, that the boys used the opportunity to
bring in a supply of wood and lightwood.  The light-wood
was very rich, and split into such beautiful torch
pieces, that Harold was tempted to think of a kind of
sport in which he had often engaged, and in which he
was very fond.  "We have been pent up all day," said
he to Robert; "suppose we change the scene by taking a
fire-hunt tonight."

"With all my heart," was the reply; "and I think
no one will object to our having a fat roast pig for our
Sunday's dinner."

"Probably not," Harold rejoined, "and I am still
more in favour of the idea, for the reason that, as we
take such game alive, we can keep it as long as we will."

Their preparation for the excursion consisted simply
in splitting an armful of lightwood, which Harold tied
into a bundle, to be readily slung over the shoulders by
a strap.  In the midst of their preparations Frank
came up, and on learning their purpose, almost shouted
for joy.  He had so often heard Sam and William
speak of the pleasure of their 'possum hunts, that it
had long been the height of his ambition, as a sportsman,
to engage in one; but for various reasons the convenient
time had never yet come.

"O, I am so glad!" he exclaimed, with a face lighted
with pleasure; "you will let me go, won't you?"

Here now was a dilemma.  How could they refuse
him? and yet how could they with propriety leave Mary
with no other companion than poor bed-ridden Sam?
The boys saw no alternative but to give up the hunt,
until Robert proposed himself to stay with Mary, on
condition that Frank should carry the torch and
light-wood, while Harold bore the ax and gun.  But to their
gratification, Frank, perceiving the difficulties of the
case, and ashamed to rob his brother of a place which
he himself was incompetent to fill, set the matter at
rest, by saying:

"No, brother, I will not go tonight; I will wait and
go with Cousin Harold some time when Sam gets well.
But you must give me the pigs when you come back,
and let me feed them every day."

They praised him sincerely for his act of self-denial,
and promised that he should be no loser on account of
it.  Soon as it was dark they bid him good-night, and
departed.  He stood in the tent door, happy in the
thought of their pleasure, and watched the animated
motions of boys and dogs, as the red light flashed upon
the trees, and the whole party became gradually lost
from sight in the forest.

The boys had not proceeded a half mile, before the
quick sharp bark, first of Mum, then of Fidelle, gave
indications of their having "treed" some kind of game.
Hastening to the spot, they saw the dogs looking eagerly
up a slender, tall persimmon, and barking incessantly.
For a time they could discover nothing in its branches,
or on its body; and had begun almost to conclude that
(in hunter's phrase) their dogs had *lied*, when Harold
took the torch, waved it to and fro behind him,
walking thus around the tree, and keeping his eyes fixed
on those places where he supposed the opossum to be.
Presently he cried out, "We have him!  I see his eyes!
Mum, poor fellow," patting his head, "you never lie,
do you?"  Mum wagged his expressive tail with great
emphasis, as much as to say that he perfectly
understood both the slander and the recantation, and that he
now desired nothing but the privilege of giving that
'possum a good shake.  Robert also took the light, and
holding it behind him, saw amid a bunch of moss two
small eyes glistening in the dark.  The aim was so fair
that the gun might have been used with certainty, were
it not against all hunting rule; an opossum must be
*caught*, not killed.  The boys plied their ax upon the
yielding wood, the eyes of the now silent dogs being
fixed alternately upon the game above and the work
below.  The tree cracked and toppled.  Mum's ears
stood perfectly erect; and ere the branches had time to
sway back, from their crash upon the ground, he was
among them, growling at something upon which he had
pounced.  It was the opossum; and like all the rest
of its tribe when in the presence of an enemy, it seemed
to be stone dead.  They took it up by its scaly, rat-like
tail, and again went on.

In the course of a short walk they took a second, and
on their way back, a third.  These were quite as many
as they could conveniently carry; and taking their
captives home, they made them secure, by tying a
forked stick around the neck of each, on the plan of a
pig-yoke.  From the moment that these singular animals
found themselves in the power of their enemies, they put
on all the usual appearances of death; not a muscle
twitched, nothing stirred or trembled; each limb was
stiff, and each eye closed; not even the growl or grip
of the dogs was sufficient to disturb their perfect
repose.  Robert could scarcely persuade himself that they
were not really dead.  Harold laughed.

"They can stand the crash of a tree and the worrying
of dogs," he said, after they were made secure; "but
there is one thing which they cannot stand.  See here!"
and he poured a cupful of cold water on each.  The
shock seemed to be electric.  Each dead opossum was
galvanized into life, and pulled stoutly to break away
from its wooden fetters.  "Now let us to bed."





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.. _`XXII`:

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   CHAPTER XXII

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   FRANK AND HIS "PIGS"--THE CAGE--WALK ON THE
   BEACH--IMMENSE CRAWFISH--THE MUSEUM--NAMING THE
   ISLAND

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Frank's first words the next morning, as in his
night-clothes he ran from Mary's room, were,
"Have you brought my pig?"

"Yes! yes!" they answered, "three of them; and all
yoked to boot, so that they cannot get either into the
garden or the cornfield."

Frank did not comprehend this enigmatical language;
he hastily dressed and went out.  Close to the awning
he found the new comers sitting, each secured by the
novel pillory which Harold had contrived.  They were
ugly looking creatures, with long, hypocritical faces,
coarse, grizzly hair, and an expression of countenance
exceedingly contemptible.  Frank had often seen
opossums before, but the fancy name of pigs had caused him
mentally to invest them with the neat and comely aspect
of the little grunters at home.  When he hurried from
the tent, and saw them in their native ugliness, writhing
their naked, snakey tails, he turned away with unaffected
disgust.

"They are not very pretty," said Harold, watching
the changes that flitted across the little fellow's face.

"No, indeed," he replied; "they are the ugliest things
I ever saw.  You may keep them and feed them yourself;
for I will not have them for mine."

The unsightly appearance of the opossum excites in
many persons a prejudice against its use for the table.
But when young and tender, or after having been kept
for several days, its flesh is so nearly in taste like that
of a roast pig, that few persons can distinguish the
difference.

A cage for the captives was soon constructed, of poles
several inches in diameter, notched into each other, and
approaching at the top like a stick trap.  The floor
was also guarded with poles, to prevent their burrowing
out.

"Now we need one or two troughs for their water and
food," observed Harold, after the prisoners, loosed from
their neck-locks, had been introduced into the airy
saloon erected for their accommodation.  "I propose,
therefore, that Mary and Frank shall go with one of
us to Shell Bluff, and bring home a supply of conch
shells, to be converted, as we need them, into troughs,
cups, dippers, and trumpets."

Mary and Frank needed no persuasion to go upon
this excursion, after the glowing description given by
the boys on their return from the beach.  Robert
preferred to remain with Sam.  The others set off--Harold
with his gun, which, for reasons of policy, was an
inseparable companion, Mary with a basket, and Frank
with his dog and hatchet.  On arriving at the beach,
down which they were to pass for a mile or more, the
youngsters amused themselves for a time with writing
names, or making grotesque figures in the hard smooth
sand; then ran to overtake Harold, who had walked
slowly on, watching the sea-gulls plunge after their
prey on the surface of the water; for a short distance
they went with him side by side, chatting through mere
excitement; then dashing far ahead, they picked up
shells and other curiosities thrown up from the sea.
Several times was Mary's basket filled with prizes, and
afterwards emptied for others still more beautiful,
before they reached the place which the boys had named
"Shell Bluff."

The beach at that place was lovely indeed.  For half
a mile or more it looked like snow, mottled with rose
colour here, and with dark brown there; while,
crowning the bluff above, waved a cluster of tropical
palmettoes, around whose bases gathered the dark and fragrant
cedar.

Again Mary replenished her basket, Frank filled every
pocket he had, and his cap besides, and Harold collected
his handkerchief full of fine-looking conch shells.  They
were about returning, when their attention was attracted
by the shell of an enormous crawfish, whose body alone
was nearly a foot long, and whose claws, extending far
in front, were of hideous dimensions.  This last Harold
said he must take home for "Mr. Philosopher Robert,"
and learn from him what it was.

Robert was much pleased to see the collections they
had made, and particularly so with the shell.  He said
that this was another proof, if he needed any other, to
show that they were on the western coast of South
Florida, for he had often heard of the enormous
crawfish that abounded there, and that were almost equal in
size to the lobster.

"Let us be sure, Harold," said he, "to put it beside
your oyster, with the raccoon's foot, as the beginning of
a museum gathered from the island."

"Yes; and our rattlesnake's skin," Frank added.

"And our turkey's tail, and Frank's plume," said
Mary.  "We have the beginning of a museum already;
for there are besides these things about twenty varieties
of shells and sea-weeds in this basket, some of which
I never saw before."

Harold was as much interested as any in the idea of
a museum; for though he knew nothing of its proper
arrangement, he had good sense enough to perceive that
it was a very ready means of acquiring and retaining
knowledge.

"But the name of this island," said Robert, musing;
"I have several times wished that we had one.  And
why should we not, for who has a better right to give it
a name than we, its only inhabitants?"

He expressed the mind of the whole company, and
they soon proceeded to call upon each other for
nominations.  "The rule in such cases, I have heard, is to
begin with the youngest," said Robert.  "So Master
Frank, do you tell us what you would have it called."

Frank mused a moment, and replied, "I will call it
Turkey Island; because turkeys were the first thing
we saw here."

"My name, I think, will be the Island of Hope," said
Mary, as her brother's eye rested on her.  "We have
certainly been *hoping* ever since we came, and will
continue to hope until we get away."

"Yes, but we sometimes despaired, too," answered
Robert, "especially on the morning after the storm.  I
have thought of the Caloosa name--the Enchanted
Island."

"Please, Massa," Sam implored, "don't call um by
dat name.  I begin to see ghosts now; and I 'fraid,
if you call um so, I will see ghosts and sperits all de
time."

"I think a more suitable name still," said Harold,
"is the Island of Refuge.  It has certainly been to us
a refuge from the sea, and from the storm.  And if it
is the Enchanted Island, of which Riley spoke, it will
also prove a refuge from the Indians, for none will dare
to trouble us here."

Sam declined suggesting any name.  He said, pointing
across the river to the bluff, where he had met with
his accident, "Dat my place, obe' turrah side;[#] and
my name for him is Poor Hope."

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.. class:: noindent small

   [#] That is my place, over the other side.

.. vspace:: 2

The name decided by universal acclamation, was THE
ISLAND OF REFUGE.

"I wish we had a horn of oil," said Robert, "I would
anoint it, as discoverers are said to do.  And if any
person could suggest an appropriate speech I would
repeat it on the occasion; but the only words I can think
of now are,

|  'Isle of Beauty, fare thee well!'

And much as I admire everything around, I hope ere
long to repeat those words in truth."





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.. _`XXIII`:

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   CHAPTER XXIII

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   THEIR SECOND SABBATH ON THE ISLAND, AND THE WAY
   THEY SPENT IT

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On coming together in the morning, Robert
proposed that they should add to their usual
religious exercises the singing of a hymn.  "It is
father's plan," said he, "to mark the Sabbath with as
many pleasant peculiarities as possible."

Harold was gratified with the suggestion, but
remarked, "As I cannot sing, you must allow me to join
you in my heart, or else to assist the music with my
flute."

"Oh, the flute, by all means!" Mary replied.  "And
see here what a beautiful hymn I have just found!"

Robert took the book, and read with remarkable
appropriateness of tone and manner that exquisite hymn
by Dr. Watts, beginning

|  "My God, how endless is thy love!"
|

The music that morning was unusually sweet.  The
voices of the singers were rendered plaintive by a
consciousness of their helpless situation; and the rich
tones of the flute, together with Sam's African voice,
which was marked by indescribable mellowness, added
greatly to the effect.

The subject of the chapter was the parable of the
prodigal son.  Sam, poor fellow, raised himself on his
elbow, and listened attentively; his remark made
afterwards to Mary, showed that, however far beyond his
comprehension a great part of the parable may have
been, he had caught its general drift and meaning.  "De
Lord is berry kind; he meet de sinner afore he get home,
and forgib him ebbery ting."

About nine o'clock the young people separated, with
the understanding that they were to re-assemble at
eleven, for the purpose of reading the Scriptures, and
of conversation about its teachings.

Robert went to the beach, and taking his seat upon
a log, near the flag-staff, looked upon the ocean, and
engaged in deep reflection upon their lonely situation,
and the waning prospects of their deliverance.  His
Testament gradually slipped from his grasp, and his
head sunk between his knees.  Such was his absorption
of mind, that the big drops gathered upon his forehead,
and he was conscious of nothing except of his separation
from home, and of the necessity for exertion.  At last he
heard a voice from the tent.  Harold and Mary were
beckoning to him; and looking up to the sun, he saw
that eleven o'clock had come and passed.  He sprang to
his feet, and in doing so, was rebuked to see lying on
the ground the Testament which he had taken to read,
but had not opened.

Harold, on leaving the tent, took his pocket Bible and
strolled up the river bank, to a pleasant cluster of trees,
where he selected a seat upon the projecting root of a
large magnolia.  His mind also reverted naturally to
their lonely situation; but he checked the rising thoughts,
by saying to himself, "No.  I have time enough during
the week for thoughts like these.  The Sabbath is given
for another purpose, which it will not do for me longer
to neglect.  When the Lord delivered us in that strange
way at sea, I resolved to live like a Christian, but I
have neither lived nor felt as I ought.  The Lord
forgive me for my neglect, and help me to do better."  He
knelt down, and for several minutes was engaged
in endeavouring to realize that he was in the presence
of God.  His first words were a hearty confession that,
although he had been early taught to know his duty, he
had not done it, nor had the heart to do it; and, though
in the experience of countless blessings, he had never
been grateful for any until the time of that unexpected
deliverance.  He thanked God for having taught him
by that dreadful accident to feel that he was a sinner,
and that it was a terrible thing to live and to die such.
He said he knew there were promises, many and great,
to all who would repent of sin, and believe in Jesus
Christ, and he prayed that God would enable him so
to repent and believe, as to feel that the promises were
made to him.

Rising from his knees, and sitting upon the root of
the tree, he opened the Bible, and his eye rested upon
the fifty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, "Ho, every one that
thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no
money; come ye, buy and eat; yea, come; buy wine and
milk, without money and without price."  Here he
stopped, for his eyes filled, and the page became
obscured.  He put his hands to his face, and thought,
"That passage surely describes *me*.  I came to this spot
as a thirsty person goes to a spring.  My soul longs
for something, I know not what, except that God only
can supply it, and that I have nothing to offer for its
purchase.  Now God says that he will *give* it, 'without
money and without price.'  O, what a blessing!  O,
how merciful!  Let me see that passage again."

He re-opened the Bible, which had been laid in his
lap, but the place had not been marked, and was not to
be found.  After searching some time, he turned to the
New Testament, and having opened it at the Epistle to
the Romans, was turning back to the Gospels, when his
eye was caught by these words (contained in the seventh
and eighth verses of the fourth chapter of Romans):
"Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven, and
whose sins are covered.  Blessed is the man to whom the
Lord will not impute sin."  "Ah, yes!" he exclaimed,
"how true that is!  There is no blessing like
it."  Supposing that something might be said in the chapter to
show how sin may be forgiven and covered, he read
the chapter through, but was disappointed.  The only
clear idea he gained was that Abraham was counted
righteous, and was saved, not by his works, but by his
faith.  This confused him.  "I always thought," said
he, "that people were saved because they were good.
But this teaches,--let me see what,"--at this time his
eye rested on the words, "Now it was not written for
his sake alone (viz. that Abraham's faith was imputed
to him for righteousness), but FOR US ALSO, *to whom* it
shall be imputed, if we believe on him that raised up
Jesus, our Lord, from the dead, who was delivered for
our offences, and was raised again for our justification."

"Ah, there comes my case again!" he mentally
exclaimed.  "It does seem as if God is opening to me the
scriptures.  This fact, about Abraham, was *recorded*
not for his sake, but FOR OUR SAKES *now*.  And the blessing
bestowed on him (that is, the forgiveness of sin), shall
be bestowed on us too, 'if we believe on Him (that is,
God the Father), that raised up Jesus from the dead,
who was delivered (that is, given up to death--put to
death) for our offences, but raised again for our
justification.'  But justification, what does that mean?"

He glanced his eye over the chapter.  It flashed upon
him that justification means nothing more nor less than
what Paul had been speaking of throughout the whole
chapter.  Abraham was "justified"--that is, "sin was
not imputed to him"--he was "counted righteous," on
account of his faith.  Now he understood the passage.
It declared that we too shall be justified, if we believe
on God, who gave up Jesus to suffer for our sins, and
who raised him again that we might be counted righteous.

As soon as he had conceived this idea, and had certified
his mind of its correctness, by reading the passage over
several times, he fell once more upon his knees, and said,
"O Lord, I am a sinner.  But thou hast said, 'Ho,
every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters; and
he that hath no money.'  I come as a sinner, thirsting
for pardon, but having no money to offer for its purchase.
My only hope is in Thy promise.  I plead it now before
Thee.  Thou hast promised, that as Abraham was justified
by faith, so shall we be, if we believe on Thee, who
didst raise Jesus from the dead.  Lord, I believe; help
thou my unbelief.  Accept of me as righteous in thy
sight, not because I am righteous--for I am not, but
because Jesus Christ was delivered for our offences, and
raised again for our justification.  Forgive my iniquities,
cover my sins, and make me all that thou wouldst
have me be, for Jesus Christ's sake.  Amen."

For some minutes he continued kneeling; his eyes
were closed, his hands clasped, and his bowed face
marked by strong emotion.  It was pleasant to be thus
engaged.  He had experienced for the first time the
blessedness of drawing near to God, and now he was
listening to that "still small voice," that spoke peace
to his inmost soul.

Once more he sat upon the rough root of the tree.
He opened his Bible to the same page which had been
so instructive, but it was to the next chapter, where he
read: "Therefore, being justified by faith, we have
peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ."  "Yes,
yes," he murmured, as his hand sought his bosom.
"Peace indeed!  Peace with God!  Peace through our
Lord Jesus Christ--and justified by faith."  He
continued reading:

"By whom we have access by faith into this grace
wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of
God.  And not only so, but we glory in tribulations
also; knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and
patience experience, and experience hope, and hope maketh
not ashamed, because the love of God is shed abroad in
our hearts, by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us."

"Ah! is not this true?" he joyfully soliloquized.  "We
glory in tribulations.  I used to wonder how people could
glory in trouble.  But now, thanks to God for trouble! especially
for the trouble that brought us to this island,
and brought me to Jesus Christ!  Yes, *thanks to God for
trouble*!"

Having read the chapter to the end, and found, as
is usual with persons in his state of mind, that although
he could not understand it all, there was scarcely a verse
in which he did not discover something suitable to his
case, he knelt down and consecrated himself to God;
praying that the Lord would grant him grace to live as
a Christian, and more particularly so to live, as to be
the means of bringing his young companions to a
knowledge of the truth.  As he closed his prayer, the words
of the morning hymn rose vividly to his recollection;
he did not indeed use them as any part of his address
to a throne of grace, but he used them as uttering
beautifully the language of his own heart in that sweet
communion to which he was now initiated.

|  "I yield my powers to thy command,
|  To thee I consecrate my days;
|  Perpetual blessings from thy hand
|  Demand perpetual songs of praise."
|

Looking at his watch he saw that the hour of eleven
was at hand.  He turned his face toward the tent, and
walked slowly onward, and as he went his lips
continually murmured,

|  "Perpetual blessings from thy hand,
|  Demand perpetual songs of praise."
|

While Robert and Harold were thus engaged, Mary
told Frank to amuse himself not far away, and that
after she had looked over her own lessons she would
call for him.  In the act of going to her room, she was
arrested by the voice of Sam, who said:

"Please, misses, Mas Robert and Mas Harold both
gone away; and if you can, read some of the Bible to
your poor sick servant--do, misses."

Touched by his melancholy earnestness, she promised
to do so with pleasure, after having finished Frank's
lessons and her own; and indeed, urged on by his apparent
thankfulness, she dispatched her task in one-half the
usual time, and then called for Frank.

"What! have you learned your lessons already?" he
asked, in some surprise.  She replied, "Yes."  "Then,"
said he, "I wish you would make mine as short, for it
took you a very little while."  But when she informed
him of the secret of her rapidity, and he heard a
plaintive, half-devotional sigh from Sam's corner, he said,
"Get the book, sister; I will learn as fast as I can, and
then we can both go and sit by him, while you read."  Mary
patted his cheek, saying that he was a good
fellow, whenever he chose to be; and giving him the book,
he stood by her side, and learnt his lessons very soon,
and very well.

The chapter selected at Sam's request was the third
of John.  With this he was so well acquainted as to be
able to repeat verse after verse, while Mary was reading,
and he seemed withal to have a very clear idea of its
meaning.  Mary was surprised.  She knew that her
father was in the habit of calling his plantation negroes
together on Sabbath evenings, and instructing them from
the Scriptures, but she had no idea that the impressions
made by his labour had been so deep.

It was not until half-past eleven that they were all
assembled and composed.  They sang several hymns,
then conversed freely upon the subject of the chapter,
which had interested them in the morning, and on which
they had promised to reflect.  These exercises occupied
them so pleasantly that it was past the usual hour ere
any one thought of dinner.

A part of Dr. Gordon's custom had been to call upon
each of his children every day at their midday meal,
to tell what "new knowledge" they had gained since
that hour of the day preceding.  On Sundays the same
plan was pursued, except that the knowledge was
required to be suitable to the day.  This practice was on
the present occasion resumed by the young people.
Frank's new knowledge consisted of part of his morning
lesson; Mary's, of a new method devised by her for
remembering the order of certain books in the Bible;
Robert's, of the aim and object of the parable just discussed:
it was a keen rebuke to the Scribes and Pharisees, who
murmured against Jesus for receiving sinners and eating
with them.  When Harold's turn came, he spoke with
much emotion, and a face radiant with pleasure.  He
said that he had on that day learnt the most important
lesson of his life; how good the Lord is, and how great
a sinner he himself had been; he had learnt how to love
Him, and how to trust Him; how to read the Bible, and
how to pray.  He was not able to tell how it happened,
but there was now a meaning in the Scriptures, and a
sweetness in prayer, that he had never before suspected,
and that he hoped it would last for ever.  He concluded
by saying that he could conceive of no greater blessing
than that of being enabled to feel all his life-long as he
felt that morning, after promising to try to live like a
Christian.

To these remarks of Harold no one made reply.  Robert
looked down a moment, then directed his gaze far
away, as if disturbed by some painful recollection.
Mary gazed wistfully on her cousin, and covered her face
with both hands.  Frank slid from his seat, and coming
to Harold's side, insinuated himself upon his knee, and
looked affectionately into his face.  All felt that a great
event had happened in their little circle; and that from
that time forth their amiable cousin was in a most
important sense their superior.  They separated in silence,
Robert going to the spring, Mary to her room, and Harold
to talk with Sam.

Late in the afternoon they went together to the
seashore, and sitting around their flag-staff, on the clear
white sand, looked over the gently rippling waters, and
talked thankfully of their merciful deliverance, and of
their pleasant Island of Refuge.  The air became chilly,
and the stars peeped out, before they sought the tent.
Again soft music stole upon the night air, and floated far
over the sands and waters.  Then all was hushed.  The
youthful worshippers had retired.  And so softly did
sleep descend upon their eyelids, and so peacefully did
the night pass, that one might almost have fancied angels
had become their guardians, were it not for the still
more animating thought that the *God* of the angels was
there, and that He "gave his beloved sleep."





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.. _`XXIV`:

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   CHAPTER XXIV

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   MOTE IN THE EYE, AND HOW IT WAS REMOVED--CONCH
   TRUMPET AND SIGNALS--TRAMP--ALARM

.. vspace:: 2

The next morning, while planning together the
employments of the day, Frank came in, holding
his hand over his eye, having had a grain of
sand thrown into it by an unfortunate twitch of Dora's
tail.  It pained him excessively, and he found it almost
impossible to keep from crying.  Mary ran quickly and
brought a basin, for the purpose of his washing it out.
He however became frightened at finding his mouth and
nose immersed, and was near being strangled in the
attempt.  It would have been better for so young a person,
if Mary had made him hold back his head, and dropped
the water under the uplifted lid.  She next proposed to
remove it by introducing the smooth head of a large
needle to the painful spot, and moving the mote away;
but neither would Frank allow this.  Robert then took
the matter in hand, and having in vain blown and
rubbed in various ways, endeavoured to remove the
substance by drawing the irritated lid over the other, in such
a way as to make the lash of one a sort of wiper to
the other.  But neither did this succeed.  By this time
the eye had become much inflamed, and Frank began
to whimper.  Harold asked him to bear it for a minute
longer, and he would try old Torgah's plan.  With a
black filament of moss, the best substitute he could devise
for a horse hair, he made a little loop, which he inserted
under the uplifted lid, so as to enclose the foreign
substance; then letting the lid fall, he drew out the loop,
and within it the grain of sand.  Robert observed that
an almost infallible remedy is to bandage the eye and
take a nap; and Mary added, that it would be still more
certain if a flaxseed were put into the eye before going
to sleep.  Frank, however, needed no further treatment;
he bathed his eye with cold water, wore a bandage for
an hour, and then was as well as ever.

During the conversation that preceded this incident,
Harold had brought out a hammer and large nail, and
now occupied himself with making a smooth hole in the
small end of one of the conches.  Having succeeded, he
put the conch to his lips, and after several trials brought
from it a loud clear note like that of a bugle.  Robert
also, finding that the sound came easily, called aloud,
"Come here, sister, let us teach you how to blow a
trumpet."

It was not until after several attempts that Mary
acquired the art.  Frank was much amused to see how she
twisted and screwed her mouth to make it fit the hole;
and though he said nothing at the time, Harold had
afterwards reason to remember a lurking expression of
sly humour dancing about the corners of his mouth and eyes.

"Now, cousin," said Harold, when Mary had succeeded
in bringing out the notes with sufficient clearness, "if
ever you wish to call us home when we are within a
mile of you at night, or half a mile during the day, you
have only to use this trumpet.  For an ordinary call,
sound a long loud blast, but for *an alarm*, if there should
be such a thing, sound two long blasts, with the interval
of a second.  When you wish to call for Frank, sound a
short blast, for Robert two, and for me three.

In his different strolls through the forest, Harold had
observed that the wild turkeys frequented certain oaks,
whose acorns were small and sweet.  It was part of his
plan to capture a number of these birds in a trap, and
to keep them on hand as poultry, to be killed at pleasure.
For this purpose, it was necessary that the spot where the
trap was to be set should first be baited.  He therefore
proposed to Robert to spend part of the forenoon in
selecting and baiting several places; and with this
intention they left home, having their pockets filled with
corn and peas.  It did not require long to select half a
dozen such places, within a moderate distance of the
tent, to bait, and afterwards to mark them so that they
could be found.

Having completed this work, they were returning to
the tent, when they heard afar off the sound of the
conch.  It was indistinct and irregular at first, as if
Mary had not been able to adjust her mouth properly
to the hole; but presently a note came to them so clear
and emphatic, that Mum pricked up his ears, and trotted
briskly on; and after a second's pause came another
long blast.  "Harold!  Harold!" Robert said in a quick
and tremulous tone, "that is an alarm!  I wonder what
can be the matter.  Now there are two short blasts; they
are for me; and now three for you.  Come, let us hurry.
Something terrible must have happened to Frank or to Sam."

They quickened their pace to a run, and were
bursting through the bushes and briers, when they again
heard the two long blasts of alarm, followed by the short
ones, that called for each of them.  They were seriously
disturbed, and continued their efforts until they came
near enough to see Mary walking about very composedly,
and Frank sitting, not far from the tent, with the conch
lying at his feet.  These signs of tranquillity so far
relieved their anxiety, that they slackened their pace to a
moderate walk, but their faces were red, and their breath
short from exertion.  They began to hope that the alarm
was on account of *good* news instead of bad--perhaps the
sight of a vessel on the coast.  Robert was trembling with
excitement.  A loud halloo roused the attention of Frank,
and springing lightly to his feet he ran to meet them.

"What is the matter?" asked Robert; but either Frank
did not hear, or did not choose to reply.  He came up
with a merry laugh, talking so fast and loud, as to drown
all the questions.

"Ha! ha!" said he, "I thought I could bring you!
That was loud and strong, wasn't it?"

"You!" Robert inquired.  "What do you mean?  Did
you blow the conch?"

"That I did," he replied; "I blew just as cousin
Harold said we must, to bring you all home."

"But, Frank," remonstrated Harold, "the conch
sounded an alarm.  It said, Something is the matter.
Now what was the matter?"

"O, not much," Frank answered, "only I was getting
hungry, and thought it was time for you all to come
back.  That was something, wasn't it?"

"You wicked fellow!" said Robert, provoked out of
all patience, to think of their long run.  "You have
put us to a great deal of trouble.  Sister, how came you
to let him frighten us so?"

"Really, I could not help it," she replied.  "When
I went to the spring a little while since, he excused
himself from going by saying that he felt tired; but no
sooner had I passed below the bluff, than I heard the
sound of the conch.  I supposed at first it must be Sam,
who had become suddenly worse, and was blowing for
you to return; so I filled my bucket only half full, and
hurried home; when I ascended the bluff I saw the little
monkey, with the conch in his hand, blowing away with
all his might."

"And didn't it go well?" asked Frank.

The young wag looked so innocent of every intent
except fun, and seemed withal to think his trick so clever,
that in spite of their discomfort, the boys laughed
heartily at the consternation he had produced, and at the half
comic, half tragic expression which his face assumed on
learning the consequences of his waggery.  They gave
him a serious lecture, however, upon the subject, and
told him that hereafter he must not interfere with the
signals.  But as he seemed to have such an uncommon
aptitude for trumpeting, Harold promised to prepare
him a conch for his own use, on condition that he played
them no more tricks.  Frank was delighted at this,
and taking up the horn, blew, as he said, "all sorts of
crooked ways," to show what he could do.  The boys
were astonished.  Frank was the most skilful trumpeter
of the company; and on being questioned how he
acquired the art, replied, that when he and his mother had
gone on a visit to one of her friends, during the
preceding summer, he and a negro boy used to go after the
cows every evening, and blow horns for their amusement.





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.. _`XXV`:

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   CHAPTER XXV

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   A HUNTER'S MISFORTUNE--RELIEF TO A SPRAIN--HOW TO
   AVOID BEING LOST IN THE WOODS, AND TO RECOVER
   ONE'S COURSE AFTER BEING LOST--A STILL HUNT

.. vspace:: 2

It was remarked by Mary the next morning, that
if some one did not go out hunting they should
soon be out of provision.  "Which for our character
as marooners I hope will not be the case," rejoined
Harold.  "Come, Robert, shall we be hunters today?"

"We cannot do better," Robert languidly replied,
"unless we go fishing instead."

"O, do let me go with you," begged Frank.  "I am so
tired of being cooped up here under this oak tree, and
running for ever to the spring and to the oyster bank.  I
want to go either hunting or fishing."

"Perhaps we can do both," said Mary, perceiving from
Robert's looks that he was disinclined to any great
exertion.  "Cousin Harold can take Frank and go to the
woods, while you and I, brother, can catch a mess of fish."

"That will do!  O, yes, that is the very plan," Frank
exclaimed, clapping his hands.  "Then we can run a
race to see who shall do best."

The company separated; Harold took Frank and
disappeared in the forest, where they were absent several
hours, and Robert and Mary went to the oyster bank,
where they supplied themselves with bait, and then
embarking on the raft, began to fish for sheepshead, near
a log imbedded in the mud, and covered with barnacles
and young oysters.  The success of the fishing party
was very good; they soon had a basket half full of fish,
and the remainder filled with shrimp.

Not so with the hunters.  Robert and Mary were
engaged in preparing their prizes for use, when they
heard a sharp halloo, and saw Frank emerging from a
dense growth of bushes, with the rifle upon his shoulder,
followed by Harold, who was limping painfully, and
beckoning them to approach.

Washing their hands with haste, Robert and Mary
ran to meet them.  Harold was seated on a log, looking
very pale.  Within an hour after leaving the tent he had
sprained his ankle, and ever since had been slowly and
with great suffering attempting to return.  Mary was
frightened to see the haggard looks of her cousin, and
inquired anxiously what she could do to help him.

"Take the gun, sister," said Robert.  "Lean on me,
cousin, I will support you to the tent, and then show
you the best thing in the world for a sprain."

Mary ran to the tent, put the gun in its place,
prepared Harold's couch, and then at Robert's request
hurried with Frank to the spring and brought up a
bucket of water, by the time that Harold's shoe and
stocking had been removed.  The ankle was much
swollen, and the blood had settled around it in deep blue
clouds.

"Now, sister, bring me the coffee pot and a basin."

The basin was placed under the foot, and the coffee
pot filled with cool water was used to pour a small
stream upon the injured part.  This process was
continued for half an hour, by which time the inflammation
and pain were greatly reduced.  It was also repeated
several times that day, and once more before retiring to
bed, the good effects being manifest on each occasion.

This accident not only confined the whole company
at home for the rest of the day, but caused an unpleasant
conviction to press heavily upon the mind of Robert--the
whole responsibility of supplying the family with
food and other necessaries would for a time devolve upon
himself.  This fact almost made him shudder, for though
a willing boy, he was not robust; labour was painful to
him; at times he felt a great disinclination to bodily
effort, but the greatest difficulty in the way of his
success in their present mode of life, was his ignorance of
some of the most necessary arts of a hunter.

"Harold," said he, with a rueful face, the next
morning, when they had finished talking over the various
means for discovering and approaching game in the
forest; "to tell you the truth, I am afraid of *getting
lost* in these thick and tangled woods.  It is a perfect
wonder to me how you can dash on through bush and
brier, and turn here and there, as if you knew every
step of the way, when, if I were left alone, I should never
find my way home at all.  Now my head is easily turned,
and when I am once lost, I am lost."

"I know exactly what you mean," replied Harold,
"and in former times I used to feel the same way.  But
there are two or three rules which helped me much, and
which I will give to you.

"The first is, *never allow to yourself that you are
lost*.  Say to yourself that you are mistaken, or that
you have taken the wrong course, or anything that you
will, but never allow the *lost feeling* to come over you,
so long as you can keep it off.

"When, however, you ascertain that you have unfortunately
missed your track, your next rule is to sit down
*as quietly as possible* to determine your course.  Most
people in such a case become excited, run here and there,
at perfect random, and become worse bewildered than
before.  First do you determine the points of the
compass, and then strike for the point you are most certain
of reaching.  For instance, you know that anywhere on
this island the sea lies to the west, and a river to the
north.  You can surely find either of these places; and
when once found you will be no longer in doubt, although
you may be far from home."

"But how am I to know the points of the compass?"
inquired Robert.

"Easily enough," his cousin replied.  "But before
speaking of that, let me give you my third rule, which is,
*never get lost*."

Robert laughed.  "That is the only rule I want.  Give
me that and you may have the rest."

"Then," continued Harold, "make it your constant
habit to notice the course you travel, and the time you
are travelling.  Watch the sun, or else the shadows of
the trees, and the angle at which you cross them.  Early
in the morning the shadows are very long, and point
west.  In the middle of the forenoon, they are about
as long as the trees that make them, and all point
north-west.  And at twelve o'clock they are very short, and
point due north.  To a woodsman the shadows are both
clock and compass; and by keeping your mind on them,
you can easily make what the captain would call your
*dead reckoning*."

"But," said Robert, "what would you do on such a
day as this, when there is neither sun nor shadow?"

"You must work by another rule," he replied.  "Old
Torgah gave me three signs for telling the points of the
compass, by noticing the limbs, the bark, and the green
moss on the trunks of trees *well exposed* to the sun.
Moss, you know, loves the shade, while the bark and
limbs grow all the faster for having plenty of light.  As
a general rule, therefore, you will find the south, or
sunny side of a tree marked by large limbs and thick,
rough bark, and the north side covered, more or less, with
whatever green moss there may be on it.[#]  Did I ever tell
you how these signs helped me once to find my way home?"

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] Happening not long since to converse with an old and
   observant farmer, on the subject of these natural signs, he pointed
   out another.

.. class:: noindent small

   "Notice," said he, "the direction in which those trees *lean*."

.. class:: noindent small

   We were in a pine forest, and, almost without exception, the
   trees that declined from a perpendicular leaned towards the east.
   The severe winds through the up country of South Carolina,
   Georgia and Alabama, which start our trees and unsettle our
   fences, usually prevail from the west.  That is the point also
   from which almost invariably come our thunder storms.

.. vspace:: 2

Robert replied that he had not.  "I was at my uncle's,
where I had never been before, in a newly settled part
of the country.  A small stream ran near his house,
and bent considerably around his plantation.  Down
this stream I followed one day, in search of ducks, and
walked several miles before thinking of home.  My
uncle's house lay due east, and instead of returning the
way I went, I determined to take a shorter course
through the woods.  I had not gone far, however, before
a fat squirrel jumped upon a log, within good shooting
distance, curled his tail over his back, and sat there
barking; he seemed to give me every invitation that a
squirrel possibly could to shoot him, and I did so.  But
it was really curious to see the consequence.  Such a
barking of squirrels I never heard before in my life.
They were all around me, jumping, shaking their tails,
and *quaw-quawing* at such a rate, that it was almost like
witchcraft.  I killed as many as I could carry, and once
more set out for home.  But I had completely lost my
course; the chase had taken off my mind, and I could tell
neither which way I came into the wood, nor how I was
to go out of it.  My uncle's house I knew lay to the
east, and the stream to the north.  But which way was
east, and which north?  The sun was hidden, and the
trees were so close and thick, that the moss covered their
large trunks on every side, and the limbs and bark for
the same reason seemed to be of equal size all round.  At
last I spied a small tree, that was pretty well exposed to
the sun, and the limbs of which were evidently larger,
and the bark rougher on one side than on the other; there
was also a beautiful tuft of green moss growing at its
root, on the side opposite to the large limbs.  These
signs satisfied me; but to make assurance doubly sure,
I cut into the tree far enough to ascertain that the
thickest bark was on the roughest side.  That one tree was my
guide.  I struck a straight course for home, and reached
it without difficulty.  Now, if you take these rules, you
can guide yourself anywhere through these woods, in
which you will never be more than three or four miles
to the east of the sea-shore."

"Thank you, cousin," said Robert; "thank you
sincerely.  You have relieved my mind from the greatest
embarrassment I have felt at the thought of roaming
these dark woods alone.  Your rules give me confidence;
for the very trees that before caused my bewilderment
shall now become my guides."

He took his gun, called his dog, and gave a look to
Frank, in the expectation that he also would come.
But Frank had listened quietly to the preceding
conversation, and had as quietly made up his mind not
to go.  He sat beside the cage, watching the opossum,
and took no notice of dog, gun, or look.

"Jump, Frank," said Robert, in a cheering tone; "I
am ready to go.  Let us see if we cannot find a deer."

"No, I thank you," he soberly replied; "I do not love
to get lost.  It does not feel pleasant.  I had rather
stay at home and pour water on cousin Harold's foot."

"Then stay," said Robert, in a disappointed tone;
"I forgot that you were a baby."

Harold, however, who knew that Frank was an
uncommon pedestrian, and that Robert preferred to have
company, whispered to him, "He is not going to lose
himself, Frank.  I think, too, he will kill some deer, and
who knows but he may find another fawn to keep Dora
company."  Frank seized his cap, and calling out,
"Brother! brother!  I am coming!" dashed off in
pursuit.  Fidelle started too, but they returned to tie her
up, and to say to Mary that she must not be uneasy if
they did not return by dinner-time, as they were
unwilling to come without game; then taking some parched
corn in their pockets in case of hunger, together with
Frank's hatchet and matches, they again set off.

The first business was to visit the turkey baits; at one
of which the corn and peas had all disappeared, with
evident traces of having been eaten by turkeys.  "What
a pity we had not brought some more bait," remarked
Robert; "Harold says that when they have once found
food at a place, they are almost sure to return the next
day to look for more.  We must share with them our
dinner of parched corn."

Renewing the bait, they proceeded in a straight course
south, having for their guide the bright clouds that
showed the place of the sun to the south-east.  Frank
was very anxious for Robert to kill some of the many
squirrels that frolicked around them.  "May be," said
he, "if you shoot, they will quaw-quaw for you as they
did for Cousin Harold, and then we can go home
loaded."  But Robert replied that this would be a
useless waste of ammunition: that it would probably scare
off the deer from the neighbourhood; and that,
moreover, his gun was not loaded for such small game.

Hardly had the argument closed before Mum began
to smell and snort, here and there, intent upon a
confused trail.  His motion became soon more steady, and
he started off at a pace that made the hunters run to
keep in sight.  Afraid that at this rate Frank would
give out, and that he himself would be too much out of
breath to aim surely, or to creep cautiously upon the
deer, Robert called out, "Steady, Mum!"  The well-trained
brute instantly slackened his speed, and keeping
only about a rod ahead, went forward at a moderate walk.
In this way they followed for a full quarter of a mile,
when Robert observed him take his nose from the ground,
and walk with noiseless step, keeping his eyes keenly
directed forwards.  He "steadied" him again by a half
whispered command, and kept close at his heels.  Soon
he saw a pair of antlers peering above a distant thicket,
and the brown side of a deer between the branches.
Softly ordering Mum to "come in," and noticing that
what little wind there was blew so as not to carry their
scent to the deer, he said to Frank, "Buddy, if you will
remain by this large poplar, I will creep behind yonder
thicket, and see if I cannot get a shot.  Will you be
afraid?"

"No," he replied, "if you do not go too far away."

"I will not go out of hearing," Robert said, "and if
you need anything, whistle for me, but do not call.
Hide yourself behind this tree, and when you hear me
shoot, come as soon as you please."

It was easy to cover his advance behind the dense
foliage of a viny bower, until he was quite near.  He
paused to listen; the rustle of leaves and the sound of
stamping feet were distinctly heard.  A short but
cautious movement gave him a commanding view of the
ground.  There were three deer feeding within easy
reach of his shot.  He sprung both barrels, and tried to
be deliberate, but in spite of all resolution his heart
jumped into his mouth, and his hand shook violently; he
had what hunters call "the buck-ague."  Steadying his
piece against a stout branch, he aimed at the shoulders
of the largest, and fired.  It fell, with a bound forward.
The other deer, instead of darting away, as he expected,
turned in apparent surprise to look at the unusual
vision of smoke and fire, accompanied by such a noise,
when he took deliberate aim with a now steady hand,
and fired at the head of the next largest, as it was in
the act of springing away.

"Come, Frank! come!" he shouted.

Frank, however, had started at the first report, and
was now running at the top of his speed.  Robert rushed
forward to dye his hand for the first time in the blood
of so noble a victim; yet it made him almost shudder
to hear the knife grate through the delicate flesh, and to
see the rich blood gurgling upon the ground.  Had it
not been that such butchery was necessary to subsistence,
he would have resolved at that moment to repeat it no
more.

But what was next to be done?  Here were two large
deer lying upon the earth.  Should he skin and cleanse
them there, and attempt to carry home the divided
quarters? or should he carry home one deer and return for the
other?  He decided upon the last.  Before proceeding
homewards, however, he blazed a number of trees, to
show afar off the place of his game; then selecting a
tree, as far as he could distinguish in his way, he went
towards it, chopping each bush and sapling with his
hatchet; and making a broad blaze upon this tree, he
selected another in the same line, and proceeded thus
until he reached the tent.  He had learnt by one-half
day's practice to thread the trackless forest with a
steadiness of course and a confidence of spirit that were
surprising to himself.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`XXVI`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XXVI

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   CRUTCHES IN DEMAND--CURING VENISON--PEMMICAN--SCALDING
   OFF A PORKER'S HAIR WITH LEAVES AND
   WATER--TURKEY TROUGH--SOLITARY WATCHING--FORCE
   OF IMAGINATION--FEARFUL RENCOUNTER--DIFFERENT
   MODES OF REPELLING WILD BEASTS

.. vspace:: 2

Harold's ankle continued so painful whenever
he attempted to move, that Sam advised him,
the morning after the accident, to construct
for himself a pair of crutches.  "Make 'em strong and
good, Mas Harol," said he, with a broad grin of
satisfaction.  "I hope by time you trow 'em away, I'll pick
'em up."  This work occupied the two invalids, while
Robert and Frank were engaged in their successful deer hunt.

When the venison was brought home, Harold assisted
in various ways in preparing it for use; and also
promised that if he was provided with the necessary means,
he would see that all which was thereafter brought in
should be properly cured.  His favourite mode was by
the process called *jerking*.  The plan was this: A
wig-wam was made, about five feet in diameter at the base,
and five feet high, leaving a hole at the top about two
feet wide.  A place for fire was scooped in the middle;
and the pieces of venison were hung in the smoke that
poured through the open top.  Pieces an inch thick,
when exposed at the same time to smoke and sunshine
were perfectly cured in the course of a day.  The hams
required, of course, a longer time, and were all the
better for a little salt.  The *salting tub* was made of a
fresh deer's skin, fleshy side up, supported by stakes so
as to sag in the middle.  A substitute for a *pickle barrel*
was also devised in the course of time; this consisted of
a deer's skin, stripped off whole, and rendered
water-tight by stopping the holes; in this the meat was put,
covered with a strong brine, and drawn up into a tree.
When the visits of the flesh-fly were apprehended, the
mouth of the sack was secured by a string.  But the
most convenient form in which the meat was cured was
that known as *pemmican*.  To prepare this the meat
was jerked until perfectly dry, then pounded fine, and
mixed with half its own weight of melted grease; after
which it was packed away in skin bags, having the hair
outwards.  The pemmican could be eaten, like bologna
sausage, either cooked or raw, and kept perfectly sweet
as long as it was needed.

While describing these several modes of preparing and
preserving their meat, it may not be amiss to mention
also a method adopted by Harold for scalding off an
opossum's hair without any of the usual appliances for
heating the water.  The opossum had been killed before
it was known that the utensils for boiling were all in use
and could not be spared.  Robert was perplexed, for he
knew that the hair "sets" as soon as the carcass is cold,
and refuses to be drawn.  But Harold replied with a smile,

"I have seen hogs scalded by being put into a deep
puddle of water heated with red hot stones.  All the
water needed for so small an object as the opossum may
be heated in a deer skin, hung like our salting tub over
the fire.  But I will show you a still easier plan."

He gathered a pile of dry leaves, with which he covered
the body, and then poured on water until the pile was
quite wet; after which he piled on a much larger quantity
of dry leaves, which he set on fire.  When the mass had
burnt down, the hair of the opossum was found so
thoroughly *steamed* by the surrounding heat, that it yielded
as easily as if it had passed through the most approved
process of the pork cleaning art.

Towards sunset Robert went to the turkey baits;
the birds had returned to the place they had visited
before, and eaten all the parched corn thrown there
the second time.  He renewed the bait, with this
difference (made on Harold's suggestion)--that whereas he
had formerly scattered the corn broad-cast, he now
strewed it in a sort of trough, or shallow trench, made
in the ground.  This trench was made on a line proceeding
straight from a place of concealment, selected
within good shooting distance.  Turkeys are greedy
feeders; and when they find a place baited as that was,
they gather on each side of the trench, with their heads
close together, trying each to obtain his share of the
prize; and a person having a gun loaded with duck or
squirrel shot, has been known to kill six or eight at a
time, by firing among their interlocking heads.

An additional visit enabled Robert to determine that
the hour of their coming was early in the morning;
and this being the only other circumstance wanting to
fix the time of his own coming to meet them, he used that
opportunity to arrange to his fancy the place of his
concealment.  The trench was on a line with two short
hedges of bamboo brier, diverging from each other in
the shape of the letter V, having a place of egress at
the angle.  He closed the mouth of the V by planting a
blind of evergreens, high as his head, and very close at
the bottom; and as it was probable that he should be
compelled to remain some hours in concealment, he made
a seat, and opened through the blind a hole for observation.

On the following morning he was up and moving at
the peep of day.  Mary prepared him a cup of coffee,
and by the time that there was light sufficient to follow
the blazed track he was on the way.  His course lay
eastward, and through the opening branches glowed
that beautiful star which he had often admired, Venus,
the gem of the morning, "flaming upon the forehead of
the dawn."

Frank begged hard to be allowed to go too, his
confidence in Robert's woodsmanship having been greatly
increased by the recent success; but Harold decided
against him.  He said that in turkey shooting the fewer
persons there were present the better; that Robert
himself must keep still as a mouse, and that well trained as
Mum was, it would be better even for him to be left
behind.  Robert therefore departed alone, putting into
his pocket a small volume of Shakespeare, to aid in
whiling away the slow hours of his solitary watch.

On arriving at the spot his first act was to see that
the bait was yet untouched.  He took his seat, and
continued for a long time peeping through the port hole,
and listening with an attention so acute that he could
hear the rush of his own blood along the throbbing
arteries.  But as the minutes passed, and no change
occurred, not even the chirp of a bird or the bark of a
squirrel enlivening the grim solitude, his excitement
gradually gave way to weariness.  He leaned his gun
against the wall of vines, and drew out his book.  It was
the first volume, containing that magnificent drama,
"The Tempest."  He read rapidly the familiar scenes
describing Ariel, the light, invisible spirit, and Caliban,
the hideous son of the old hag, and Prospero, with his
beautiful daughter, and the dripping refugees from the
sea, and became so deeply absorbed as perfectly to forget
where he was, until a slight rustling behind a briery
thicket near the bait aroused his attention.  Whatever
the animal might have been, its step was very stealthy,
and evidently approaching.  Laying down the book, and
grasping his gun, he peeped cautiously around; nothing
was visible.  Soon he heard a rattling upon the ground
of falling fragments, as if from some animal climbing a
tree, and a grating sound like that of bark which is
grasped and crushed.

"I wonder what that can be?" he mentally soliloquized.
"Perhaps a large fox-squirrel climbing after
acorns--but no, there is too much bark falling for that.
It must be a squirrel barking a dead limb for worms.
That's it!  O, yes, that's it."

But it was no squirrel, and had Robert been more of
a woodsman he would not have returned so quietly to
his reading.  Indeed, he had become more deeply
interested in his book than in his business, and was glad of
any excuse that allowed him to return to Prospero and
the shipwrecked crew.  He read a few pages more, and
stopping to connect in his mind the disjointed parts of
the story, his eye rested upon what appeared to be the
bushy tail of a very large squirrel, lying upon a limb
of the tree that overhung the bait.

"I knew it was a squirrel," said he to himself; "but
he is a bouncer!  How long his tail is! and how it moves
from side to side like a cat's, when it sees a bird or
a mouse that it is trying to catch.  I wish I could
see his body, but it is hidden by that bunch of leaves."

His imagination was so powerfully impressed with the
graphic scenery of "The Tempest," that he could
scarcely think of anything else.  The idea in his mind
at that moment was the ludicrous scene in which the
drunken Stephano comes upon the queer bundle, made
up of Caliban and Trinculo, lying head to head under the
same frock, and appearing to his unsteady eyes like a
monster with two pairs of legs at each end.  As Robert
looked into the tree, he almost laughed to catch himself
fancying that he saw Caliban's head lying on the same
limb on which lay the squirrel's tail, and staring at him
with its two great eyes.  Indeed he did see something.
There was a veritable head resting there, and two great
eyeballs were glaring upon him, and nothing but the
irresistible influence of the scenes he had read deceived
him for a moment with the idea that it was Caliban's.

A second and steady look would probably have
revealed the truth; but for this he had not time.  The
welcome "twit! twit!" of the expected game caused him
to look through his port hole, and a large turkey cock,
accompanied by four hens, ran directly to the trench,
and began to eat as fast as they could pick up the grains.
Robert cautiously slipped his gun through the port hole,
and took deliberate aim, confident that he could kill the
five at one shot.  But hesitating a moment whether he
should commit such wholesale destruction, when they
were already so well supplied with fresh meat, his gun
made a slight noise against the leaves, which attracted
the attention of the turkeys, and caused the hens to
dart away.  The gobbler, being the leader and
protector of the party, stood his ground courageously,
stretching his long neck full four feet high, looking in
every direction, and then coming cautiously towards the
blind to reconnoitre.

Robert had gained experience from his still hunting;
and in this conjuncture stood perfectly motionless,
keeping his gun as immovable as the stiff branch of a dry
tree.  The bird was deceived.  It returned quietly to
the trench, and commenced feeding.  Robert waited in
the hope that it would be joined by another; but no other
coming, he fired while it was picking up the last few
grains, and killed it.  The moment of pulling the trigger,
he heard a rustle of leaves in the tree above the turkey,
and the moment after the report of his gun a heavy fall
upon the ground.  As he rushed from his concealment
to seize the fallen game, he was horrified to see an
enormous beast of the cat kind, crushing the head of the
bird in its mouth, while its paw pinioned the fluttering
wings.  It was a panther.  It had crawled into the tree
while Robert was reading.  It was *its* tail he had
mistaken for a squirrel's, and *its* head he had fancied was
Caliban's.  For half an hour it had been glaring upon
him with its big eyeballs, waiting until he should pass
near enough to be pounced upon.

The coming of the turkeys had distracted its attention;
and being hungry, it had ceased to watch for its human
victim, and resolved upon that which was surer.  When
Robert emerged from his concealment it turned upon
him, dropped the mangled head from its bloody mouth,
reversed the hair on both back and tail, showed its
enormous fangs, and growled.  Had he retreated from the
field he might have escaped the terrible conflict that
awaited him, for the panther, left to the peaceable
possession of its prize, would probably have snatched it up
and ran away.  But his horror at the sight was so great
that for a moment he was paralysed.  He convulsively
clutched his gun, and was on the point of firing almost
without aim, when another fierce growl from the panther,
that appeared to be gathering itself for a leap, brought
him to his senses.  He took deliberate aim between its
eyes, and fired.  It was a desperate chance, for the gun
was loaded only with duck shot.  The howl of rage and
pain with which the panther bounded upon him, and the
grinning horrible teeth that it showed, made his blood
run cold.  He clubbed his gun, prepared to aim a
heavy blow upon its forehead, but, to his surprise,
instead of leaping upon him, it sprang upon the thicket
of briers, about three feet distant, and began furiously
to tear on every side at perfect random.

He needed no better chance to escape from so dangerous
a neighbourhood; and, in the moment of leaving, saw
that both eyes of the animal had been shot away, and
that the bloody humour was streaming down its face.
He hurried on for a few steps, but fearing that the
frantic beast might pursue him, he slipped behind a tree,
and pouring hastily into his gun a charge of powder,
which he rammed down as he ran, put upon that a
heavy load of deer shot, and then made his way homewards.

Ere he had run one-half the distance, however, his
fears began to subside.  The panther, if not mortally
wounded, was stone-blind; why should he not muster
courage enough to complete the work, and thus perform
a feat of which he might be proud as long as he lived?
In the midst of this cogitation, he heard before him the
tramp of footsteps, and saw the glimmering of an animal
that bounded towards him with rapid pace.  Could this
be the panther which had pursued him, and intercepted
his flight!  He levelled his piece in readiness for battle,
and was preparing to pull trigger at the first fair sight,
when he saw that, instead of a panther, it was
Mum--good faithful Mum, broken loose from his confinement
at home, and come in a moment of need to help his
master.  What a relief!  Robert called him, patted him,
hugged him, and then said, "Stop, Mum!  I'll give you
something to do directly.  Just wait a minute, boy, till
I load this other barrel; and with you to help me, I
shall not be afraid of any panther, whether his eyes
are in or out."

Mum had sagacity enough to know that his master was
greatly excited, and he showed his own sympathy by
whining, frisking about, and wagging his short tail.
Robert loaded with dispatch, hurried back, keeping Mum
directly before him, and holding his piece ready for
instant use; but the panther had disappeared.

On reaching the field of battle, Mum's first act was
to spring upon the prostrate bird, but finding it dead
he let it lie; then perceiving the odour of the panther's
track, his hair bristled, he followed the trail for a few
steps, and returned, looking wistfully into his master's
face.  He evidently understood the dangerous character
of the beast that had been there, and was reluctant to
follow.  Robert, however, put him upon the trail, and
encouraged him to proceed.  Mum undertook the business
very warily.  He went first to the brier on which
the panther had last been seen; then in a zigzag course,
that seemed to be interrupted by every bush against
which the blinded beast had struck; finally he bristled
up again, and gave signs of extreme caution.  A few
steps brought them to a fallen log, between two large
branches of which Robert saw his formidable enemy,
crouched and panting.  He softly called in his dog.  The
panther pricked up its ears, and raised its head, as if
trying to pierce through the impenetrable gloom.
Robert came noiselessly nearer and nearer, until within
ten paces, then deliberately taking aim, he discharged
the whole load of bullets between the creature's eyes.
It leaped convulsively forward, and died almost without
a struggle.

.. _`Deliberately taking aim, he discharged the whole load of bullets between the creature's eyes`:

.. figure:: images/img-210.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: Deliberately taking aim, he discharged the whole load of bullets between the creature's eyes

   Deliberately taking aim, he discharged the whole load of bullets between the creature's eyes

Soon as it was indubitably dead, Robert went forward
to examine it.  He turned it over, felt its bony legs and
compact body; looked at the terrible fangs from which
he had made so narrow an escape, and, having satisfied
his curiosity, attempted to take it upon his shoulder;
but this was far beyond his strength--the panther was
heavy as a large deer.  He marked carefully the spot
where it lay, and returning to the tree for his book and
bird, hurried home, to tell the others of his perilous
adventure.

Hardly had he come within sight, before Frank's quick
eyes discerned him.  "What!" said he, with a playful
taunt, "only one turkey!  I thought you would have
had a house full, you staid so long and fired so often.
Cousin Harold hardly knew what to make of it; he
said he supposed you must have *wounded* a turkey; so
I ran and let Mum loose to help you."

"I am glad you did," replied Robert, drawing a long
breath, "for never in my life was I more in need of
help."

"And you didn't get the other after all?"

"O, yes, all I aimed at.  But something came near
getting me, too.  Where are Cousin Harold and sister?"

"In the tent."

Harold and Mary smiled with pleasure to see the
fine bird on his shoulder, but could not understand the
seriousness of countenance with which he approached.
He related the particulars of his adventure, to which
they listened with breathless attention.  Mary turned
very pale, Harold's eyes flashed fire, and Sam's white
teeth shone in repeated laughs of admiration.

"How I wish I could have been with you," said
Harold, looking mournfully at his lame foot.

"I wish you had been."

"That was a terrible moment, when you had fired
your last barrel, and the panther was rushing upon you.
You must have given up all for lost."

"No," replied Robert, "I felt myself tremendously
excited, but had no idea of giving up."

"That is natural," said Harold.  "No one ever gives
up while there is anything to do.  But do tell me, what
did you think of?  People can think so fast, and so
powerfully, when brought to the pinch, that I like to
hear all about their plans and thoughts.  Tell me everything."

"From first to last," said Robert, smiling, "I thought
of many things, but of none which I had time to execute,
except to fire into his eyes, and club my gun.  I first
thought of running away, but not until I had stood so
long that the panther seemed about to spring upon me.
Then the idea occurred to me of trying the power of my
eye, as father recommended about dogs; but I confess
there was more power in his eye than mine, for I was
badly frightened.  My next thought was to take off my
cap and rush upon him, as if that was some deadly
weapon.  I heard once of a lady in India, who saved
herself and several others from a Bengal tiger, by
rushing at him with an umbrella which she kept opening and
shutting as she ran.  There was another plan still, of a
negro in Georgia, who fought and killed a panther with
his knife.  But," he continued, "let us talk a moment
of the carcass.  What shall I do with it; leave it there
or bring it to the tent?"

"O, bring it, bring it, by all means," Harold replied;
"I doubt not Cousin Mary and Frank will help you."

Mary was not at all pleased with the prospect of
such unladylike business, and in consequence gave
Harold a look of disapproval, which he affected not to
see.  She went, nevertheless, and the panther was soon
lying before the tent-door.  The rest of the forenoon was
spent in flaying it, which they did with the claws, tail
and ears attached; for Robert had remarked, that being
compelled to imitate Hercules in destroying wild beasts,
he had a fancy to imitate him also in his couch.  While
thus engaged, Harold asked for the story of the negro.

"It is not much of a story," said Robert; "I thought
of it merely in connection with the rest.  The negro was
going to his wife's house, which was some miles distant
from the plantation, and which made it necessary for him
to pass through a dark, dismal swamp.  Usually he passed
it by daylight, for it was infested by wild beasts; but
being a daring fellow, he sometimes went by night, armed
only with a long sharp knife.  The last time he made
the attempt he did not reach his wife's house, and his
master went in search of him.  Deep in the swamp he
had met with a panther, and had a terrible fight.  Traces
of blood were plentiful, and deep tracks, where first one
and then the other had made some unusual effort.  Near
at hand lay the panther, stabbed in nine places, and a
little beyond lay the negro, torn almost to pieces.  They
had killed each other."

"I wonder," said Harold, "that he did not carry a
torch; no wild beast will attack a person bearing fire."

"Are you sure of that?" Robert inquired.

"As sure as I can be, from having heard of it often,
and tried it twice."

Robert begged for the particulars.

"I went with my father and two other gentlemen, on
a hunting excursion among the mountains, where we
camped out, of course.  One of the gentlemen having
heard that there were plenty of wolves in that region,
and wishing, as he said, to have some fun that night, had
rubbed gum assafoetida upon the soles of his boots,
before leaving the tent for it is said that wolves are
attracted by the smell of this gum, and will follow it to
a great distance.  Now, whether it was the smell of the
assafoetida or of our game, I will not pretend to say, but
the wolves came that night in such numbers that we could
scarcely rest.  They howled first on this side and then
on that, and barked in such short quick notes, that one
sounded like half a dozen.  Our horses were terribly
frightened; we could scarcely keep them within bounds;
and our dogs ran slinking into the tent with every sign
of fear.  The only plan by which we could sleep with
comfort was by building a large fire, and keeping it
burning all night."

"Did not the gentleman who was so fond of wolves
go out after them?" asked Robert.

"O, yes, we all went, again and again, but the cunning
creatures kept in the edge of the darkness, and when
we approached on one side, they ran to the other.  It
was there I heard the other gentleman, who was esteemed
a great hunter, remark, that all wild beasts are afraid of fire."

"I wonder why?"

"Night beasts are afraid I suppose, because they prowl
in darkness; and as for the others, if they once feel the
pain of fire they will be apt to keep out of its way."

"The other circumstance is this:--Last year I went
on a night hunt, with some boys of my own age; and
not only did we meet with very poor success, but for
some hours were completely lost.  About an hour before
day I left the company, and returned home; for I had
promised my mother to return by twelve o'clock.  Before
parting company, we heard a panther in the woods
directly in my way, crying for all the world like a
young child.  The boys tried to frighten me out of my
intention; but I told them that if they would only let
me have a good torch, I should safely pass by a dozen
panthers.  It was full two miles home.  The panther
continued his cry until I came within a furlong, and
then ceased.  As I passed the piece of woods from which
his voice appeared to come, I heard afar off the stealthy
tread of something retiring, and saw two large eyes
shining in the dark.  I have always supposed that these
were the eyes and tread of the panther, and that it was
driven off by the torch."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`XXVII`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XXVII

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   TURKEY-PEN--SUCKING WATER THROUGH OOZY SAND--EXPLORING
   TOUR--APPEARANCE OF THE COUNTRY--"MADAME
   BRUIN"--SOLDIER'S REMEDY FOR CHAFED
   FEET--NIGHT IN THE WOODS--PRAIRIE--INDIAN
   HUT--FRUIT TREES--SINGULAR SPRING

.. vspace:: 2

It would be useless, and perhaps tedious, to trace thus
day by day, and hour by hour, the history of our
young friends.  We will now pass over an interval
of nearly three weeks, from Saturday, November sixth,
when Robert's contest with the panther occurred, to
Wednesday, November twenty-fourth, when their affairs
received another turn.

The only incident worth relating that occurred during
this period, was the construction of a pen for entrapping
turkeys.  It was simply a covered enclosure, of ten or
twelve feet square, with a deep trench communicating
from the outside to the centre.  This trench was made
deep enough to allow a feeding turkey to walk under the
side of the pen, and next the wall, inside, it was bridged
over, so that the birds in running around the enclosure,
after having entered, might not fall into the trench, and
see their way out.  This trap is planned with a knowledge
of the fact, that though a turkey looks down when
feeding, it never looks down when trying to escape.
This is equally true of the quail or southern partridge,
and perhaps of most of the gallinaceous birds.  By
means of this trap the boys took so many turkeys that
they were at last weary of seeing them.

In the meantime Harold's ankle had become so nearly
well, that for a week it had been strong enough for
all ordinary purposes; and Sam's bones, though by no
means fit to be used, were rapidly knitting, and gave
promise of being all that broken bones can become in
the course of a few weeks.  No one had yet come to
their rescue.  Often had they gone, singly and together,
to the flag-staff, and swept the watery horizon with their
glass, but no helper appeared, and no sign.  Robert
and Mary had learned by this time to curb their impatience,
and to wait in calmness the time when they should
commence working upon their proposed boat.

From the first day that they found themselves shut
up upon the island, Robert and Harold had meditated
an exploration of the surrounding country, but had
hitherto been prevented by various causes.  Among these
was Mary's excessive nervousness at the idea of being
left alone, and particularly so after Robert's contest with
the panther; but now she said, that with Fidelle to
guard, and with Sam to shoot, exclusive of what she
herself might do in case of an emergency, she gave her
consent to the tour.

The stock of provision laid in by this time was quite
respectable.  Five deer had been killed, and their hams
were now in the smoke, the company having in the
meantime subsisted upon the other parts of the venison,
turkeys from the pen, oysters, crabs, and fish.  There
were also fifty dried fish, two live turkeys, and four fat
"pigs" (so called) in the cage, to say nothing of the
stores brought from home.  Before starting, the boys
provided Mary with a large supply of wood for the
kitchen and smoke-house, water also, and everything else
which they could foresee as needful.  They loaded the
remaining guns with heavy shot, and laid them aside
ready for use; and, moreover, offered to build for her a
palisade around the tent, by driving down stakes, and
wattling them with grape vines; but to this last Mary
objected, saying she was ashamed to be considered so
great a coward.

It was broad daylight on the morning of Wednesday,
the twenty-fourth day of November, when they set out
upon their tour.  Robert carried the wallet of provision,
consisting of parched corn, jerked venison, and a few
hard crackers of Mary's manufacture; in his belt he
fastened a flat powder flask filled with water, being the
best substitute he could devise for a canteen.  Harold
carried the blanket rolled like a wallet, and Frank's
hatchet stuck in his belt.

Willing to ascertain the coastwise dimensions of the
island, and also the approaches to it from sea, they
directed their course along the hard smooth beach,
occasionally ascending the bluff for the purpose of observing
the adjacent country.  Their rate of travelling was
at first intentionally slow, for they were both pedestrians
enough to know that the more slowly a journey is commenced,
the more likely it is to be comfortably continued.

At the end of six miles they plainly discerned the
southern extremity of the island, lying a mile beyond,
and marked by a high bank of sand, thrown up in
such profusion as almost to smother a group of dwarfish,
ill-formed cedars.  Beyond the bluff they saw the river
setting eastward from the sea, and bordered on its
further side with a dense growth of mangroves.  Satisfied
with this discovery, and observing that, after
proceeding inland for a few miles, the river bent suddenly
to the north, they turned their faces eastward, resolved
to strike for some point upon the bank.  The sterile
soil of the beach, and its overhanging bluff, which was
varied only by an occasional clump of cedars and a
patch of prickly pears, with now and then a tall palmetto,
that stood as a gigantic sentry over its pigmy
companions, was exchanged as they receded from the coast,
first for a thick undergrowth of low shrubs and a small
variety of oak, then for trees still larger, which were
oftentimes covered with vines, whose long festoons and
pendant branches were loaded with clusters of blue and
purple grapes.  About midway of the island the surface
made a sudden ascent, assuming that peculiar character
known as "hammock," and which, to unpractised eyes,
looks like a swamp upon an elevated ridge.

Before leaving the beach the boys had quenched their
thirst at a spring of cool, fresh water, found by
scratching in the sand at high water mark, but which they
would not have been able to enjoy had it not been for
a simple device of Robert's.  The sand was so soft and
oozy, that before the basin they had excavated was
sufficiently full to dish from, its sides had fallen in.
Harold had tried at several places, but failing in all,
he hallooed to Robert, whom he had left behind, to
know what had been his success.

"Come and see," was the reply.  Harold went, but
saw nothing.

"There is my spring," said Robert, pointing to the
end of a reed like that of a pipe-stem, sticking out of the
sand.  "Suck at that," he continued, "and you will
get all that you want."

Harold tried it, and rose delighted.  "Capital!" he
exclaimed; "but how do you keep the sand from rising
with the water?"

Robert drew out the reed, and showed him a piece of
cloth fastened as a strainer on its lower end.  "I have
often thus quenched my thirst when fishing on our sandy
beaches, and have never found it to fail."

"It is exceedingly simple," remarked Harold.  "I
wonder I never saw it nor heard of it before."

"So do I," rejoined Robert; "and yet I question
whether I should ever have heard of it myself, had it
not been for the Hottentots."

Harold's eyes opened wide at the mention of Hottentots,
and Robert went on to say, "A year or two since,
while reading an account of the suffering of people in
South Africa for the want of water, and their various
devices for obtaining it, I was struck with the simplicity
of one of their plans.  On coming to a place where the
water was near the surface, but where they could not
dig a well, they would make a narrow hole a yard or
more deep, and insert a small reed having a bunch of
grass or moss tied around its lower end.  This reed they
buried, all except a short end left above ground, and
packed the earth tightly around it.  Then they sucked
strongly at the open end, and it is said that, if the
earth was sufficiently moist and if the soil was not too
close, the water would soon run through the reed,
cleansed of its mud and sand by passing through the
rude filter attached to its lower end."

"Whoever may have been its author, it is an excellent
device," said Harold.  "I shall not forget it."

At noon the boys seated themselves under a heavy
canopy of vines, and ate their frugal dinner in sight
of a luscious-looking dessert, hanging in purple clusters
above and around them, which in its turn they did not
fail to enjoy.

Resuming their journey to the east, they proceeded
about a mile further, when Mum, who had trotted along
with quite a philosophic air, as if knowing that his
masters were intent upon something other than hunting,
was seen to dash forward a few steps, smell here and
there intently, then with a growl of warning to come
beside them for protection.

"That is a panther, I'll warrant," said Robert.  "At
least Mum acted exactly in that way the other day
when I put him upon the panther's track.  Had we
not better avoid it?"

"By no means," replied Harold.  "Let us see what
the creature is.  We are on an exploring tour, you know,
and that includes animals as well as trees.  A panther
is a cowardly animal, unless it has very greatly the
advantage; and if you could conquer one with a single
load of duck-shot when alone and surprised, surely we
two can manage another."

"Yes," said Robert, "but I assure you, my success
was more from accident than skill; and I would rather
not try it again.  However, it will do no harm to push
on cautiously, and see what sort of neighbours we have."

They patted their dog, and gave him a word of
encouragement; the brave fellow looked up, as if to
remonstrate against the dangerous undertaking, but on
their persisting went cheerfully upon the trail; he took
good care, however, to move very slowly, and to keep but
little in advance of the guns.  The two boys walked
abreast, keeping their pieces ready for instant use, and
proceeded thus for about fifteen minutes, when their
dog came to a sudden halt, bristled from head to tail,
and showed his fangs with a fierce growl; while from a
thicket, not ten paces distant, there issued a deep
grumbling sound, expressive of defiance and of deadly
hate.  Harold stooped quickly behind the dog, and saw
an enormous she bear, accompanied by two cubs that
were running beyond her, while she turned to keep the
pursuers at bay.

"We must be cautious, Robert," said Harold; "a bear
with cubs is not to be trifled with.  We must either
let her alone, or follow at a respectful distance.  What
shall we do?  She has a den somewhere near at hand,
and no doubt is making for it."

Robert was not very anxious for an acquaintance
with so rough a neighbour, but before the fearless eye
of his cousin every feeling of trepidation subsided, and
he was influenced only by curiosity, which, it is well
known, becomes powerfully strong when spiced with
adventure.  They followed, governing themselves by the
cautious movements of their dog, and able to catch only a
casual glimpse of the bear and her cubs, until they
came within thirty paces of a poplar,[#] five feet in
diameter, with a hollow base, into which opened a hole
large enough to admit the fugitives.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] Tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera), called poplar at the
   South.

.. vspace:: 2

"There, now, is the country residence of Madame
Bruin," said Robert, stopping at a distance to
reconnoitre the premises.  "Shall we knock at her door, and
ask how the family are?"

"I think not," replied Harold, "the old lady is
rather cross sometimes, and I suspect from the tones
of her voice she is not in the sweetest humour at the
present.  Take care, Robert, she is coming!  Climb that
sapling!  Quick!  Quick!"

The boys each clambered into a small tree, and as
soon as they were well established, Harold remarked,
"Now let her come, if she loves shot.  A bear cannot
climb a sapling.  Her arms are too stiff to grasp it;
she needs a tree large enough to fill her hug."

But Madame Bruin, like the rest of her kin, was a
peaceable old lady, not at all disposed to trouble those
that let her alone, and on the present occasion she had
two sweet little cherubs, whose comfort depended upon
her safety; so she contented herself with going simply
to her front door, and requesting her impertinent visitors
to leave the premises.  This request was couched in
language which, though not English, nor remarkably
polite, was perfectly intelligible.

"I suppose we shall have to go now," said Harold;
"it will not be civil to keep prying into the old lady's
chamber.  But when Sam is able to join us, we can
come prepared to make bacon of her and pets of her cubs."

They called off the dog, patted him in praise of his
well-doing, and then retreated, blazing the trees all the
way from the poplar to the river.

Several of these last miles Robert had walked with
increasing painfulness; his feet were so much chafed as
to be almost blistered.

"Stop, Harold, and let us rest here," he said, on
reaching a fallen log.  "I wish to try that soldier's
remedy for chafed feet."

"What soldier's?" Harold inquired.

"One of those at Tampa," replied Robert.  "I heard
several of them relate, one day, how much they had
suffered in marching with blistered feet, when one of
the number remarked that whenever the signs of chafing
occurred he had relieved himself by shifting his socks
from one foot to the other, or by turning them inside
out.  Upon this another stated that he was generally
able to escape all chafing by rubbing the inside of his
socks with a little soap before setting out.  And
another still added that he had often *cured* his blistered
feet, in time for the next day's march, by rubbing them
with spirits mixed with tallow dropped from a candle
into the palm of his hand.  Before leaving home, today,
I took the precaution to soap the inside of my socks; but
now I shall have to try the efficacy of the other remedy;
and sorry shall I be if there should be need for the
third plan, because we have neither the tallow nor the
spirits necessary for the experiment."

Robert gave the proposed plan a trial, and found, to
his delight, that it saved him from all further discomfort.

Nothing more of interest occurred that day.  On
leaving the river, which, after making a great sweep
to the south-east, came so near the bank on which they
stood, as to afford a good landing for boats, they turned
into the woods and kept a northern course parallel with
the shore.  About sunset they stopped beside a large
log of resinous pine, which they selected for the place of
their encampment that night, intending to set the log
a-fire.  Around it they cleared an irregular ring, which
they fired on the inner side, thus providing a place for
their sleeping free from insects, and from which fire
could not escape into the surrounding forest.  Next,
they made themselves a tent of bushes, by bending down
one sapling, fastening its top to the side of another, and
then piling against it a good supply of evergreens,
inclined sufficiently to allow a narrow space beneath.  A
neighbouring tree supplied them with moss for a superb
woodland mattress, and while Robert was preparing that
Harold collected a quantity of pine knots, to be reserved
in case their fire should decline.

By the time these preparations were completed darkness
closed around.  Jupiter, at that time the evening
star, glowed brightly from the western sky, while Orion,
with his brilliant belt, gleamed cheerily from the east.
The boys sat for some time luxuriating in their rest,
listening to the musical roar of their fire, and watching
the red glare which lighted up the sombre arches of
the forest; then uniting in their simple repast, and
giving Mum his share, they lay down to sleep, having
committed themselves to the care of Him who slumbers
not, and who is as near his trustful worshippers in the
forest as in the city.

There is a wild pleasure in sleeping in the deep dark
woods.  The sense of solitude, the consciousness of
exposure, the eternal rustle of the leafy canopy, or else
its perfect stillness, broken only by the stealthy tread of
some beast of night, or the melancholy hooting of a
restless owl, give a variety which is not usual to civilized
men, but which, being of a sombre character, requires
for its enjoyment a bold heart and a self-relying spirit.

The boys retired to rest soon after supper, and tried
to sleep; but the novelty of their circumstances kept
them awake.  They rose from their mossy couch, sat
by the fire, and talked of their past history and of
their future prospects.  All around was perfect
stillness.  Their voices sounded weak and childlike in that
deep forest; and embosomed as they were in an illuminated
circle, beyond whose narrow boundary rose an
impenetrable wall of darkness, they felt as if they were
but specks in the midst of a vast and lonely world.

At last their nervous excitement passed away.  They
retired once more to bed, having their guns within reach,
and Mum lying at their feet.  The roar of the blaze
and crackle of the wood composed them to sleep; and
when they next awoke, daylight had spread far over the
heavens, and the stars had faded from sight.  They
sprang lightly to their feet, and before the sun appeared
were once more on their way northward, along the banks
of the river.

Their march was now slow and toilsome.  In the
interior a hammock of rich land, covered with lofty trees,
matted with vines, and feathered with tall grass,
impeded their progress; while near the river bay-galls,
stretching from the water's edge to the hammocks,
fringed with gall-berries, myrtles and saw-palmettoes,
and crowded internally with bays, tupeloes, and
majestic cypresses (whose singular looking "knees" peeped
above the mud and water like a wilderness of conical
stumps), forced them to the interior.  Their average
rate of travel was scarcely a mile to the hour.

Several herds of deer darted before them as they
passed, and once, while in the hammock, where the
growth was very rank, they were almost within arm's
length.

About noon they emerged into an open space, which
Harold pronounced to be a small prairie; but in the act
of stepping into it, rejoiced at a temporary relief from
the viny forest, he grasped the arm of his cousin, and
drew him behind a bush, with a hurried,

"Back! back!  Look yonder!"

Robert gave one glance, and stepped back into
concealment as quickly as if twenty panthers were guarding
the prairie.  There stood an Indian hut.

The boys gazed at each other in dismay; their hearts
beat hard, and their breath grew short.  Were there
Indians then upon the island, and so near them?  What
might not have happened to Mary and Frank?  But a
close scrutiny from their bushy cover enabled them to
breathe freely.  There was a hut, but it was evidently
untenanted; grass grew rank about the doorway, and
the roof was falling to decay.  It had been deserted for
years.

The boys went boldly to it, and entered.  Rain from
the decayed and falling roof had produced tufts of grass
in the mud plaster of the walls.  In the centre was a
grave, banked with great neatness, and protected by a
beautifully arched pen of slender poles.  At the door
was a hominy mortar, made of a cypress block, slightly
dished, and having a narrow, funnel-shaped cavity in
its centre.  Upon it, with one end resting in a crack
of the wall, lay the pestle, shaped like a maul, and
bearing the marks of use upon that end which white
men would ordinarily regard as the handle.  Overhanging
the house were three peach trees, and around it the
ground was covered with a profusion of gourds of all
sizes, from that which is used by many as a pocket
powder-flask to that which would hold several gallons.
Beyond the house, and on the edge of the prairie, was
a close growth of wild plums.

"This place," said Harold, musing, "must have
belonged to some old chief.  The common people do not
live so comfortably.  It is likely that he continued here
after all others of his tribe had gone; and when he died,
his children buried him, and they also went away.  Poor
fellow! here he lies.  He owned a beautiful island, and
we are his heirs."

"Peace to his ashes!" ejaculated Robert.

They looked sadly upon the signs of ruin and
desolation.  It always makes one sad to look upon a spot
where our kind have dwelt, and from which they have
passed away; it is symbolic of ourselves, and the grief we
feel is a mourning over our own decay.

It was now twelve o'clock, and they began to feel the
demands of appetite.  Harold proposed to search longer,
in hope of finding a spring of fresh water.  "I am
sure," said he, "there must be one hereabouts, and we
shall find it exceedingly convenient in our frequent
hunts."

They searched for nearly half an hour in vain; and
as they were on the point of giving up, Harold called
out, "I have found it!  Come here, Robert, and see
what a beauty!"  Robert hastened to the shallow ravine
which terminated the eastern end of the prairie.  Not
two steps below its green margin was a real curiosity of
its kind--a rill of clear, cool-looking water, issuing from
the hollow base of a large tupelo[#] tree.  It was a
freak of nature, combining beauty, utility and
convenience.  The water was as sweet as it was clear.

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] The black gum of the swamps, having, like all trees that
   grow in water, a spreading, and generally a hollow base.

.. vspace:: 2

Having quenched their thirst at this beautiful
fountain, and prepared to open their wallet of provisions,
Robert's eye was attracted by a glimpse of a rich golden
colour, on the edge of the prairie.  They went to it, and
found several varieties of orange trees, bearing in great
profusion, and among them were limes, whose delicate
ovals asked only to be tried.  Beneath these trees they
dined, and afterwards plucked their fragrant dessert
from the loaded branches.  Then they filled their pockets
with the different varieties, and started homewards.

It was scarcely a mile from these orange trees to the
first that they had discovered; and thence only three
miles home.  They reached the tent late in the afternoon.
All were rejoiced to see them.  Frank made himself
merry, as usual, at their expense--laughing now that
two hunters should be absent two whole days, and bring
back only a few wild oranges.  Mary said she had missed
them very much, especially when night came on, but
that everything had been smooth and pleasant; she had
seen no panthers, and had not even dreamed of any.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`XXVIII`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XXVIII

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   PLANS--VISIT TO THE PRAIRIE--DISCOVERIES--SHOE
   MAKING--WATERFOWL

.. vspace:: 2

The severe exercise of the two preceding days
was more than Harold's ankle, in its state of
partial recovery, could endure without injury.
For several days afterwards he was compelled to rest
it from all unnecessary labour, and to relieve its pain by
frequent and copious applications of cold water.

Sam's wounded limbs were rapidly regaining strength,
and he insisted that they were well enough to be used;
but Robert refused to indulge him.

"We must risk nothing in the case," said he.  "It is
so important to have you able to help us build our boat,
that I think you had better continue in bed one week
too long than leave it one day too soon.  You must be
content to rest your arm for full five weeks, and your
leg for six or seven."

Mary and Frank had listened with deep interest to
the account which the boys gave of the old Indian
settlement, with its open prairie, vine covered forest, orange
grove, and sparkling spring; and begged so earnestly
for the privilege of accompanying them on their next
visit, that they gave their consent.  The only difficulty
foreseen in the case, was that of leaving Sam alone; but
when this was made known to him, he removed all
objection by saying:

"Wuddah gwine hu't me?[#]  Jes load one gun, and
put um by my side.  I take care o' myself."

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] What is going to hurt me?

.. vspace:: 2

The object of their visit was not one of mere enjoyment.
They had waited for deliverance until they were
convinced that it was vain to rely upon anything except
their own exertions.  It was now between five and six
weeks since they had landed upon the island.  There
had been some strange fatality attending all the efforts
that they were sure had been made on their behalf, and
now they must try to help themselves.

The exploration had resulted in the discovery of
beautiful timber, of every size, fit for boats, and near
the water's edge.  They well knew it would be a
herculean task for persons of their age and education, and
possessed of so few tools, to dig out, from these trees,
a boat large enough to carry them all home; but they
were compelled to do this, or to remain where they were.
Having consulted with Sam, upon whose judgment in
matters of work they relied far more than on their own,
they resolved to build not one large boat but two of
moderate dimensions, which might if necessary be lashed
firmly together; and for this purpose to select near the
water two cypresses of three feet diameter, which should
be felled as soon as possible.  Their visit to the prairie
was for the purpose of selecting these trees, in the low
ground near the river.

The four set out in fine spirits early on the morning
of Tuesday, November 30th, and continued their walk
direct and without incident to the Indian hut.
Notwithstanding the gloomy association of the solitary grave
inside the deserted house, Mary and Frank were
captivated with the wild beauty of the scene.  The soft
green grass of the prairie--the magnificent wall of
forest trees enclosing the peaceful plain--the peach trees
over the hut--the oranges and the limes glancing through
their dark green leaves--and the bright bubbling spring
that flowed so singularly from its living curb--all
combined to enchant them.  It was so delightful a contrast
to the bare and sterile sand of their present encampment,
that they plead at once for a removal there.  This,
of course, had occurred to the minds of the others also;
but there were two serious objections to it.  One was
that here they would be out of sight of vessels passing
at sea; and the other (which they kept to themselves)
was that here they should be more in danger from wild
beasts.  They replied that they also preferred the
prairie, but that they could not remove until Sam was
better able to travel.

Having enjoyed to their satisfaction the view of the
hut and its premises, Harold took Frank, and, followed
by Fidelle, went in one direction, while Robert and
Mary, with Mum, went in another, to search for trees
suitable in size and location for their boats.  In the
course of an hour they returned, having marked a large
number, and at the same time having added to their
knowledge of the resources of the island.  Harold
discovered a fine patch of Coontah or arrowroot, from which
a beautiful flour can be manufactured; and hard by a
multitude of plants, with soft velvet-like leaves, of three
feet diameter, having a large bulbous root resembling a
turnip, and which Robert pronounced to be the tanyah,
a vegetable whose taste is somewhat like that of a mealy
potato.  The other company went to the river, where
Robert discovered an old boat landing, on one side of
which was a large oyster bank, and on the other a deep
eddy of the stream, in which trout and other fish were
leaping about a fallen tree.  Mary's discovery was more
pleasant than useful.  It was a bed of the fragrant
calamus or sweet flag, from which she gathered a handful of
roots, and washing them clean, brought them as a present
to the others.  Frank was quite chagrined to see that
he had discovered nothing new or valuable, and he did
not recover his equanimity for some minutes.  While the
seniors lingered cheerfully around the remains of their
dinner, discussing the merits of their delightful island
and the prospect of their return home, Mary suddenly
inquired:

"But where is Frank?  I have not seen him for half
an hour."

Nor had any one else; for, unsatisfied with only one
orange allowed him for dessert, while there were so many
on the trees, and secretly hoping to find something
valuable to announce, he had quietly slipped away, and had
stealthily climbed one of the orange trees, from which
he plucked an orange for each of his four pockets,
then with Fidelle at his side he had strolled a little
farther into the forest, eating as he went.

The boys, startled by Mary's question, sprang
instantly to their feet, realizing vividly the danger to
which he was exposed from wild beasts, but of which
they had said nothing to him or to her.  Scarcely,
however, had their halloo sounded among the trees, than
they saw him and his faithful companion approaching
leisurely through the small thicket of wild plums.

"You thoughtless little boy," said Robert, upbraidingly;
"why did you go off by yourself in these dangerous
woods?  Did you not know they are full of bears
and panthers?"

"No, I didn't," Frank replied.

"Well, I now tell you that they are," continued
Robert, "and that you must never again go there unless
one of us is with you.  But what took you there this time?"

"Humph," grunted Frank; "don't you suppose I
want to find something new and good as well as the rest
of you? and I have found it, too."

"Indeed," said Harold; "what is it, Frank?"

"You must all guess," he answered, looking very
proud, "all of you guess.  What is the best thing in the
world?"

"I will say," answered Mary, "that one of the best
things in the world is a little boy who always tries to
do right."

"But it is no boy," Frank continued; "it is something
sweet.  Guess the sweetest thing in the world."

"I think," said Robert, inclined to amuse himself,
"that the sweetest *looking* things in the world are those
pretty little girls we used to meet on King Street, in
Charleston."

"No, no," said Frank; "it is neither boys nor girls,
but something to eat.  What is the sweetest thing in the
world to eat?"

"If we were in town," Harold replied, "I should
guess candy and sugar-plums; but, as we are in the wild
woods, I guess honey."

"Yes, that's it," said Frank, triumphantly; "I have
found a bee-tree."

"And why do you think it is a bee-tree?" asked Mary,
incredulously.

"Because I saw the bees," he replied, in confident tones.

"Why, Frank," said Robert, laughing, "the bees you
saw may have their hives miles and miles away."

"No, they have not," Frank stoutly maintained.  "I
have seen them going and coming out of their own hole
just as they do at home."

"That sounds very much as if Frank is right, after
all," argued Harold; "let us go and see for ourselves.
But how came you to find the tree, Frank?"

"While I was eating my orange," he replied, "a bee
lit on my hand, and began to suck the juice there.  I
was not afraid of him, for I knew that he would not
sting me if I did not hurt him; and more than that,
I always love to look at bees.  Well, he sucked till he
had got juice enough, then he flew right up into a
tree a little way off, and went into a hole.  While I
was looking at that hole, I saw many other bees going
in or coming out; and then I knew that it was a bee-tree,
because I had heard Riley talk about them at Bellevue.
And, Cousin Harold, did you not put up some brimstone
for taking bee-trees?"

"That I did, my dear little cousin," answered Harold,
pleased with this unexpected allusion.  "I have no
doubt, from what you say, that you have found a real
bee-tree; and, in that case, you have beat us all.  Take
us to see it."

They all went in joyous mood, and sure enough there
was a good sized tree, with a knot-hole about twenty
feet above ground, with plenty of bees passing in and out
of it.  The smell, too, of honey was decidedly strong,
showing that the hive was old and plentifully stored.

It may be as well to state here, as elsewhere, that
before many days the tree was felled, and that it supplied
them with such an abundance of honey that a portion
of it was, at Harold's suggestion, stowed away in skin
bags, hair side outward.  Some of it was beautifully
white and clear.  This was kept in the comb.  The
remainder was strained, and the wax was moulded into
large cakes for future use.  The bees, poor creatures! were
all suffocated with the fumes of burning sulphur
thrown into the hollow of the tree before it was opened.
A few recovered, and for days hovered around their
ruined home, until finally they all perished.  It made
Frank's kind heart very sad to see them, and several
times he was stung while watching their movements and
trying to help them.

After spending a delightful day, they returned about
sunset to the tent.  Sam's white teeth glistened when
they approached the door.  It had been a lonely day
with him, but their return compensated for his solitude.

From this time forth the boys had before their minds
a fixed object to be accomplished--the felling of those
trees, and converting them into boats.  But what should
be the plan of their procedure while engaged in the
work?  They could go every morning, and return every
evening--a distance altogether of eight miles; or they
could spend several nights in succession at the prairie,
leaving Frank and Mary with Sam; or they could
remove everything to the place of their labour.  As to
the first two of these plans, it was so manifestly
improper to leave the two younger ones for hours and days
together, in a wild country, infested with wild beasts,
and unprotected, except by a lame, bedridden negro,
who was unable to protect himself, that they did not
entertain them for a moment.  It was finally resolved
to delay their regular operations until the next week,
by which time they hoped to be able, partly by water
and partly by land, to transport everything, and take
up their permanent abode at the prairie.

With this conclusion, they set about those little
preparations which they could foresee as being necessary to
an undivided use of their time after entering upon their
work.  Their clothes, and particularly their shoes, began
to give signs of decay.  Frank's shoes had for some
time been gaping incontinently at the toes, looking for
all the world, Sam said, as if they were laughing.

Harold, foreseeing the necessity before it occurred, had
put some deer-skins in soak, wrapped up in lime made
from burnt oyster shells; and after removing the hair
loosened by this means, had stretched them in the sun,
and softened them by frequent applications of suet.
The skins were ready now for use; and as soon as it was
determined to delay their visit to the prairie, he brought
one of them to the tent, and calling to Frank, said,

"Lend me your foot a minute, Master Frank, and I
will give you a pair of moccasins."

"Not the *snakes*, I hope," replied Frank.

"No, but something of the same name," said Harold;
"I am going to turn shoemaker, and make you a pair of
Indian shoes.  I need a pair myself."

"And so do I--and I!" echoed Robert and Mary.

"Indeed, at this rate," said Harold, "we may as
well all turn shoemakers, and fit ourselves out in Indian
style."

Harold planted Frank's foot upon the leather, which
he drew up close around it, and marked at the heel, toe,
and instep.  He then cut it according to the measure,
and there being but one short seam at the heel, and
another from the toe to the instep, the sewing was soon
finished.  Frank tried it on, and for a first attempt
the fit was very good.  The fellow to this was barely
completed, before two reports of Robert's gun, following
in quick succession, came lumbering down the river.
Fidelle pricked up her ears, and Harold, recalling vividly
the panther scene, gave her the word to "hie on,"
and seizing his own gun followed rapidly along the
shore.  He had not proceeded far before a turn in the
bluff revealed the figure of Robert, moving about the
beach, and throwing at something in the water.  He
saw, too, that when Fidelle came up, Robert patted her,
and pointing to the river, she plunged in and brought
out a dark looking object, which she laid on a pile
already at his feet.  Arriving at the spot, he saw six
water-fowl, between the size of a duck and a goose, of
a kind entirely new to him, and which Robert assured
him were brant.

"O Harold!" Robert exclaimed, "the shore was lined
with them.  I crept behind the bluff and killed four at
my first shot, and three at my second, though one of
them fell in the marsh and is lost.  A little further
up was a large flock of mallards, feeding upon the acorns
of the live oak.  I could have killed even more of them
than of these, but I preferred the brant."

"You startled me," said Harold; "I did not know
you had left the tent until I heard your gun, and then
fearing you had got into another panther scrape, I
dispatched Fidelle to your aid."

"She was exactly what I wanted, though I am
thankful to say for a pleasanter purpose.  See how fat
these birds are!"

They gathered up the game, and returned to the
tent.  All were rejoiced at the new variety of provisions,
for they had begun to weary of the old.  The brant
proved quite as pleasant as Robert anticipated, and
alternated occasionally with wild ducks, constituted for
a long time an important addition to their stores.

For two days they were occupied with their new
art of shoe making, and so expert did they become, that
Harold said he doubted whether old Torgah himself
could make much better moccasins than those
manufactured by themselves.  There was one improvement,
however, which they made upon the usual Indian mode--a
stout sole, made of several thicknesses of the firmest
part of the leather as a defence against thorns and
cock-spurs, so abundant in the sandy soil of the coast.





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.. _`XXIX`:

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   CHAPTER XXIX

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.. class:: noindent small

   REMOVAL TO THE PRAIRIE--NIGHT ROBBERY--FOLD--DANGEROUS
   TRAP--MYSTERIOUS SIGNALS--BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT

.. vspace:: 2

On Monday morning, the wind blew so favourably
up the river, that even before the tide began
to rise, the young movers had loaded their
raft, prepared a rude sail, and were ready to start.  The
raft which had been constructed for the purpose of
rescuing Sam, had been originally so small, and the logs
were now so thoroughly soaked with water, that to make
it carry what they wished at their first load they were
compelled to add to its dimensions.  But this did not
detain them long, and after all was completed, and the
baggage stowed away, Sam, by the help of Harold's
crutches, hobbled to the beach, and seated himself at the
helm, while Harold took the oars, and Robert, Mary and
Frank went by their well marked path through the
woods, to meet them at the orange landing.

The passage by water occupied nearly three hours, and
when the clumsy float slowly approached the shore,
Harold could see through the narrow strip of woodland,
that Robert had felled two palmettoes on the edge of the
other river, and was now engaged in cutting them up.

"Can it be, Robert," he asked, on landing, "that some
bird of the air has carried to you the message I wanted
to send?  Are you not preparing another raft?"

"I am," he replied.  "It occurred to me that if we
could complete this raft by the turn of the tide, we might
take the load to the *prairie landing*, and yours might be
floated hack to the old encampment for another cargo."

The idea was so valuable, that the boys scarcely
allowed themselves time to eat or to rest until it was
accomplished; and when at last the tide was seen moving
towards the sea, they separated, Robert, Mary, and Sam
going to the prairie landing, where they soon had the
tent spread, and a fire burning; and Harold and Frank
floating back to the place of their former residence, where
they secured the raft, and calling Nanny, Dora, and the
kids, returned overland to join the company at the new home.

For several days they were occupied with the labour
of transporting their baggage, and fitting up their
present abode with comforts and conveniences.  The tent
was not established at the landing where it was pitched
the first night, but on the edge of the prairie, a furlong
distant, and within a stone's throw of the spring.

On the third night after their removal, they
experienced a loss which caused them to feel both sad and
anxious.  Nanny and her kids, having no place provided
for them, had selected a nice retreat under the shelter
of a mossy oak, and made that their lounging place by
day, and their sleeping place by night.  At the time
referred to the boys had just retired to bed, when they
heard one of the kids bleating piteously, and its cry
followed by the tramp of the others running to the tent
for protection.  Harold and Robert sprang to their
guns, and calling the dogs, seized each a burning brand,
and hurried in the direction of the kid, whose wail of
pain and fear became every moment more faint, until it
was lost in the distance.  The depredator was without
doubt a panther.  Such a circumstance was calculated to
dishearten the boys exceedingly; for it forewarned them
that not only were they likely to lose all their pets, but
that there was no safety to themselves, and particularly
none to Frank, if he should incautiously straggle into
a panther's way.  They called Nanny to a spot near
the tent, fastened her by the dog's chain to a bush, threw
a supply of wood on the fire sufficient to burn for some
hours, and retired to bed sad and uneasy.  Returning
from their unsuccessful sally, Harold significantly shook
his head, and said, "I will be ready for him before he
has time to be hungry again."

There was no other disturbance that night.  Frank was
asleep at the time of the accident, and knew nothing of
it until the next morning, when seeing Nanny fastened
near the tent, he asked why that was, and where was the
other kid.  "Poor Jinny!" he exclaimed, on hearing of
its fate (the kids, being a male and female, had been
called Paul and Virginia).  "Poor Jinny!  So you are
gone!"  He went to Nanny, the chief mourner, and
patting her smooth side said, in a pitying tone, "Poor
Nanny!  Ain't you sorry for your daughter?  Only
think, Nanny, that she is eaten up by a panther!"  Nanny
looked sorrowful enough, and replied, "Baa!"  But
whether that meant, "I am so sorry my daughter
is dead," or, "I wish you would loose my chain, and let
me eat some of this nice grass," Frank could not determine.
After a breakfast, by no means the most cheerful,
Harold said,

"Robert, we must make a picket fence for the protection
of these poor brutes.  But as I have a particular
reason for wishing some fresh venison before night, I
want to arrange matters so that either you or I shall go
out early enough to be sure of obtaining it."

Robert urged him to go at once, but disliking the
appearance of avoiding labour, he preferred to remain, and
aid them through the most laborious part of the
proposed work.  The palisade was made of strong stakes,
eight or ten feet long, sharpened at one end, and driven
into a narrow trench, which marked the dimensions of the
enclosure.  Harold assisted to cut and transport to the
spot the requisite number of stakes; and shortly after
noon took Frank as his companion, and left Robert and
Sam to complete the work.  He had not been gone more
than an hour and a half, before Robert heard the distant
report of a heavily loaded gun, in the direction of the
spot where the brant and ducks had been shot.

"Eh! eh!" said Sam, "Mas Harrol load he gun mighty
hebby for a rifle!"

"Yes," said Robert, "and he has chosen a very poor
weapon for shooting ducks."

The workmen were too intently engaged to reflect that
the report which they heard could not have proceeded
from a rifle.  In the course of half an hour another
report, but of a sharper sound, was heard much nearer,
and appearing to proceed from the neighbourhood of the
orange-trees, on the tongue of land.  Robert now looked
inquiringly at Sam, and was about to remark, "That gun
cannot be Harold's--it has not the crack of a rifle;"
but the doubt was only momentary, and soon passed
away.  Long afterwards the familiar sound of Harold's
piece was heard in the west, and a little before sunset
Harold and Frank appeared, bearing a fat young deer
between them.

"That looks nice; but you have been unfortunate,
Harold," said Robert, who having finished the pen, and
introduced into it Nanny and the two young ones, had
wiped his brows, and sat down to rest.

"Why so?"

"In getting no more."

Harold looked surprised, but considering the remark
as a sort of compliment to his general character, returned,

"O, that must be expected sometimes.  But come,
Robert, if you are not too weary, I shall be glad of your
assistance in a little work before dark.  I wish to post
up a notice here, that night robbers had better keep away."

By their united efforts they succeeded in constructing
a very simple though dangerous trap, which Harold said
he hoped would give them a dead panther before morning.
He laid Riley's rifle upon two forked stakes, about
a foot from the ground, and fastened it so that any
movement forwards would bring the trigger against an
immovable pin, and spring it.  He then tied a tempting
piece of venison to a small pole, which was bound to the
rifle in a range with the course of the ball.  And to
make assurance doubly sure, he drove down a number
of stakes around the bait, so that nothing could take
hold of it, except in such direction as to receive the load
from the gun.

"Now," said he, after having tried the working of
his gun, by charging it simply with powder and pulling
at the pole, as he supposed a wild beast would pull at the
bait, then loading it with ball and setting it ready for
deadly use--"Now, if there is in these woods a panther
that is weary of life, I advise him to visit this place
to-night."

The dogs were tied up, and the work was done.  So
long as the boys were engaged in making and setting their
trap their minds were absorbed in its details, and they
conversed about nothing else.  But when that was
finished, Harold referred to Robert's remark about his
hunting, and said, "I was unfortunate, it is true, but it
was only in going to the wrong place; for I got all that I
shot at.  But what success had you, for I heard your
gun also."

"My gun!" responded Robert, "no, indeed.  I heard
two guns up the river, and supposed you were trying
your skill in shooting ducks with a rifle."

Harold stopped, and stared at him in the dim twilight.
"Not your gun, did you say?  Then did Sam go out?"

"No.  He was working steadily with me, until a few
minutes before you returned."

The boys exchanged with each other looks of trouble
and anxiety.  "Did you hear any gun in reply to mine?"
Harold asked.  Robert replied he had not.

"Then," said Harold, in a voice tremulous with
emotion, "I am afraid that our worst trouble is to come;
for either there are Indians on the island, or our friends
have come for us, and we have left no notice on our
flag-staff to tell them where we are."

Robert wrung his hands in agony.  "O, what an
oversight again! when we had resolved so faithfully to
give every signal we could devise.  I'll get my gun!
It may not be too late for an answer."

He ran with great agitation into the tent, and brought
out his gun, but hesitated.  "What if those we heard
were fired by enemies, instead of friends?"

"In that case," replied Harold, "we must run our
risk.  If those were Indian guns, it will be vain to
attempt concealment.  They have already seen our traces;
and if they are bent on mischief, we shall feel it.  Let us
give the signal."

They fired gun after gun, charging them with powder
only, and hearing the echoes reverberate far away in the
surrounding forest; but no sound except echoes returned.
The person who fired those mysterious guns had either
left the island, or was indisposed to reply.

Many were the speculations they now interchanged
upon the subject, and gravely did the two elder boys
hint to each other, in language intelligible only to
themselves, that there was now more to fear than to hope.
They ate their supper in silence, and Mary and Frank
went sorrowfully to bed.  Robert, Harold and Sam sat
up late, after the lights were extinguished, watching for
the dreaded approach of Indians, and devising various
plans in case of attack.  At last they also retired, taking
turns to keep guard during the whole night.  All was
quiet until near morning; when, in the midst of Sam's
watch, they were aroused by hearing near at hand the
sharp report of a rifle.  In an instant the excited boys
were on their feet, and standing beside their sentry, guns
in hand, prepared to repel what they supposed to be an
Indian attack.  But Sam sung out in gleeful tone:

"No Injin! no Injin! but de trap.  Only yerry[#] how
he growl!  I tell you he got de lead!"

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] Yerry, hear.

.. vspace:: 2

The boys hastily kindled a torch, loosed the dogs,
ran to the trap, and found, not a panther indeed, but
a large wild cat, rolling and growling in mortal agony.
The dogs sprang fiercely upon it, and in less than two
minutes it lay silent and motionless, its keen eye
quenched, and its once spasmed limbs now softly flexible
in death.  They took it up.  It was nearly as large as
Mum, being quite as tall, though not so heavy.  Before
they had ceased their examinations the grey streak of
dawn gleamed above the eastern woods, and instead of
retiring to rest again, as their weariness strongly
prompted, they prepared for the duties of the opening day.

These duties appeared to be so contradictory, that they
scarcely knew what plan to pursue.  It was clear that
some one or more should go without delay to the coast,
to ascertain whether their friends were or had been
there.  But who should go, and who should stay?  If
there were Indians abroad, it would be dangerous to
divide their little force; and yet all could not go, for
Sam was lame.  Harold offered to go alone; but the
others, burning with the hope that their father might yet
be on the island, or within sight, insisted on bearing him
company.  Sam also helped to settle the question, by
saying:

"Go, Mas Robbut, and little Missus, and Mas Frank;
go all o' you.  Don't be 'fraid for me; s'pose Injin come,
he nebber trouble nigger."

This remark was based upon the well known fact that
Indians seldom interfere with negroes.  And encouraged
thus to leave him a second time alone, the young
people resolved to go in a body to the coast; agreeing
with him, however, that if he saw any danger he should
give them timely warning by setting on fire a fallen
pine-top.

Carrying what arms they could, and sending their
dogs on either side as scouts, they walked swiftly along
their well known path to the seacoast.  No accident
happened, no sign of danger appeared; everything was
as usual on the way, and at the place of their old
encampment.  But scarcely had they reached the oak,
before Harold, pointing to the earth, softened by a rain
two nights before, cried out:

"Look here, Robert!  The tracks of two persons wearing shoes!"

Robert's unpractised eye would never have detected the
signs which Harold's Indian tuition enabled him so readily
to discover; he could scarcely distinguish, after the
closest scrutiny, more than the deep indentation of a
boot-heel.  But that was enough; a boot-heel proved
the presence of a boot, and a boot proved the presence
of a white man.  That one fact relieved them from all
apprehension that the visitors were Indians.

They fired their guns, to attract if possible the
attention of the strangers; giving volley after volley, in
repeated succession, and scanning the coast in every
direction; but it was without the desired result--the
persons were gone.  Their dogs had by this time gone to a
spot near the bluff, where there had been a fire, and were
engaged in eating what the boys discovered, on inspection,
to be a ham-bone and scattered crumbs of bread.
On descending the bluff, where footprints were sharply
defined in the yielding sand, Frank exclaimed:

"Here is *William's* track!  I know it--I know it is
William's!"

The others examined it, and asked how he knew it was
William's.

"I know it," said he, "by that W.  When father gave
him that pair of thick boots for bad weather, William
drove a great many tacks into the sole; and when I asked
him why he did so, he said it was to make them last
longer, and also to know them again if they should be
stolen, for there was his name.  In the middle of one sole
he drove nine tacks, making that W., and in the other he
drove seven, so as to make an H.; for he said his name
was William Harper.  Yes, look here," pointing to the
other track, "here is the H., too."

There was now not the shadow of a doubt that the track
thus ingeniously identified was William's.  Then
whose was that other, formed by a light, well shaped
boot?  Every heart responded.  The elder boys looked
on with agitated faces; Mary burst into tears, and Frank,
casting himself passionately down, laid his wet cheek
upon that loved foot-print, and kissed it.

But he was gone now--though he had been so near--gone
without a word, or a sign, to say that he was
coming back.  Gone?  Perhaps not.  Perhaps a smoke might
recall him, if the guns did not.  Harold silently ascended
the bluff, and with one of Frank's matches fired the grass
placed beneath the heap of wood near the flag-staff.  The
smoke rose; it attracted the attention of the others, and
soon they heard Harold call from a distance, "Come here,
all of you!  Here is something more."

They ran together, Robert and Mary taking each a
hand of Frank; and when they reached the flag-staff, saw
a paper fastened to it by wooden pins driven into the
bark, and on the paper, written in large round characters:

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   "*Five Thousand Dollars Reward*

.. vspace:: 1

"Will be cheerfully paid to any one who shall restore to
me in safety a boat's company, lost from Tampa Bay on
the 26th of October last.  They were dragged to sea by
a devil-fish, and when last seen were near this island.
The company consisted of my nephew, Harold McIntosh,
aged nearly fifteen, having black hair and eyes; and my
three children, Robert Gordon, aged fourteen; Mary
Gordon, aged eleven; and Frank Gordon, aged seven
years; all having light hair and blue eyes.

"The above reward will be paid for the aforesaid
company, with their boat and boat's furniture; or one
thousand dollars for any one of the persons, or for such
information as shall enable me to know certainly what
has become of them.

"Information may be sent to me at Tampa Bay, care
of Major ----, commanding officer; or to Messrs. ---- &
Co., Charleston, S. C.; or to R. H----, Esquire,
Savannah, Georgia.

.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

   "Dec. 9, 1830.
   "CHARLES GORDON, M.D."

.. vspace:: 2

Underneath was the following postscript in pencil:

.. vspace:: 2

"P.S.  The aforesaid company have evidently been
upon this island within ten days past.  I have searched
the coast and country here in almost every direction.
They appear to have left, and I trust for home.  Should
any fatality attend their voyage, they will probably be
heard of between this island and Tampa Bay.  C. G."

.. vspace:: 2

The young people were overwhelmed.  "Poor father!"
Mary said with a choking voice, "how disappointed he
will be when he reaches home, and finds that we are not
there!  And poor mother! if she is there I know it will
almost kill her."

"But father *will* come again--he will come right
back--I know he will," Frank murmured resolutely through
his tears.

"Yes, if mother is not too sick to be left," conjectured
Mary.

"Come, children," said Robert, with an air of sullen
resolve, "it is of no use to stand here idle.  Let us go
back to the prairie, and build our boats."

"But not before we have left word on the flag-staff to
tell where we are to be found," Harold added.  A bitter
smile played around the corners of Robert's mouth, as
muttering something about "locking the door after the
steed is stolen," he took out his pencil, and wrote in
deep black letters,

.. vspace:: 2

"The lost company, together with Sam, a servant, are
to be found at a small prairie three or four miles
south-east from this point.  We have lost our boat, and are
building another.

"Dec. 10, 1830.  ROBERT GORDON."

.. vspace:: 2

They collected another pile of wood and grass for a
fire signal near their flag-staff, and then with slow, sad
steps, turned their faces once more to the prairie.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`XXX`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XXX

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   BEST CURE FOR UNAVAILING SORROW--MARY'S ADVENTURE
   WITH A BEAR--NOVEL DEFENCE--PROTECTING THE TENT

.. vspace:: 2

It was natural that the youthful company should be
much cast down by this misfortune.  But recent
experiences had taught them many valuable lessons,
and had caused them to practise, more fully than they
would have otherwise, those wise maxims which had
formed no small part of their education.  While Robert
and Mary were yet anguished with their sense of
disappointment, Harold cheerfully remarked:

"I have often heard your father say, 'There are two
kinds of ill that it is worth no wise man's while to fret
about:--Ills that *can be* helped, for then why do we not
help them? and, Ills that *cannot be* helped, for then what
is the use of fretting?'  I have also heard him say that
'*the best cure for ills that cannot be helped is to set
about doing something useful*.'"

"But what can we do more than we have already tried
to do?" asked Robert, in a questioning tone.

"Not much, I confess," was Harold's reply; "yet we
can be on the lookout for something.  Yes," he
continued, pointing, as they walked, to one of the turkey
pens which they had not visited for several days, "there
is something now.  Very likely that trap has caught,
and possibly the poor creature that is in it, is now
suffering more in body for want of food and water, than
we are in mind.  Let us go and see."

They turned aside accordingly, and found within the
trap a fine young hen in a half-famished condition.  She
scarcely noticed them until they were within a few paces
of her, and then ran with feeble steps around the pen,
twitting mournfully, but without strength to fly.
Robert proposed to let her go, saying that there would be no
use in carrying home a starved bird; but to this Mary
objected.  She was beginning to believe with Harold
that they were destined to stay a long time on the
island.  "I think," said she, "we had better take her
home, and make a coop for her, and let her be the
beginning of a stock of poultry.  We can get some ducks,
too, I have no doubt, and that will be so nice."

The picture which she drew was so comfortable and
pleasant, that they agreed to put it into instant
execution.  They would make for her not a coop merely, but
a poultry yard and house, and stock it for her with
turkeys, ducks, and brant; and she and Frank should
feed them every morning on acorns and chopped venison,
and then they would live like princes.  The only
particular difficulty that suggested itself in the case was,
that wild turkeys cannot be tamed.  There is such an
innate love of freedom in their very blood, that even
those which are raised from the egg by tame hens will
soon forsake the yard for the forest.

These little pleasant plans (for after all it is *little
things* that make life pleasant or unpleasant), occupied
their minds, and soon employed their hands; for
immediately on their return home they commenced upon Mary's
poultry house, and marked out also the limits of the
adjoining yard.  This occupied them for the two
remaining days of that week, and it was not until the Monday
following that they commenced working upon their boats.

In the midst of that week, however, another incident
occurred, which threatened to be fearful enough in its
consequences, and caused another interruption to their
work.  Robert, Harold, and Sam, were engaged upon
the fallen tree; Mary was preparing their dinner, and
Frank, having found a large beetle, was employed in
driving down sticks into the ground, on the plan of
the picket fence, "making," as he professed, "a house
for his turkey."  He had begun to feel hungry; and as
the odour of the broiling venison floated to his olfactories,
he suddenly became ravenous.  He left his beetle half
penned, and was on his way to ask his sister for a
mouthful or two before dinner, when directly behind the
tent he saw a great black object approaching the spot
where Mary stood.

He looked a moment, uncertain what it could be, then
gave a scream.  "Run, sister! run!" he said.  "Come
here!  Look! look!"  She looked, but saw nothing, for
the tent intervened.  As Frank said "run!" he set the
example, and reaching a small tree about six inches in
diameter, climbed it as nimbly as a squirrel, crying as he
ran, "Come here!  Come here!"

Mary was astonished.  She was sure from the tones of
his voice that he was in earnest, yet she saw no danger,
and hesitated what to do.  Observing him, however,
climb the tree, calling earnestly to her, she was about
to follow, when in a moment it was too late.  An
enormous bear came from behind the tent, snuffing the odour
of the meat, and looking very hungry.  Almost as soon
as it discovered her, it rose upon its hind legs,
seeming surprised to meet a human being, and came forward
with a heavy growl.  Had any one been present to help,
Mary would probably have screamed and fainted, but
thrown upon her own resources she ran to the fire and
seized a burning brand.  Then another and very
fortunate thought came to her mind.  The dipper, or water
ladle, was in her hand; and as she drew the brand from
the fire, she dipped a ladle full of the boiling, greasy
water, and threw it into the breast, and upon the
fore-paws of the growling beast.

That expedient saved her life.  The bear instantly
dropped upon all fours, and began most piteously to
whine and lick its scalded paws.  Mary seeing the
success of her experiment, dipped another ladle full, and
threw it in its face.  The bear now uttered a perfect
yell of pain, and turning upon its hind legs, ran
galloping past the tent, as if expecting every moment to feel
another supply of the hot stuff upon its back.

All this time Frank was calling from his tree, "Come
here, sister!  He can't get you here!  Come! come!"  And
Mary was about to go; but the bear was no sooner
out of sight, than she felt very sick.  Beckoning Frank
to come to her, she ran towards the tent, intending to
fire off one of the guns, as a signal for the large boys to
return; but ere reaching the door her sight failed, her
brain reeled, and she fell prostrate upon the earth.
Frank looked all round, and seeing that the bear was
"clear gone," sprang lightly from the tree, and ran to
her assistance.  He had once before seen her in a
fainting fit, and recollecting that Robert had poured water
in her face, and set him to fanning her, and chafing her
temples and the palms of her hands, he first poured a
dipper full of cold water on her face, then seizing the
conch, blew the signal of alarm, till the woods rang again.

This soon brought the others.  Harold came rushing
into the tent, and by the time that Robert arrived, he had
loosened Mary's dress, and was rubbing her hands and
wrists, while Frank fanned her, and told the tale of her
fighting the bear with hot water.  The boys were powerfully
excited.  Harold's eye turned continually to the
woods, and he called Mum, and patted him with one
hand, while he helped Mary with the other.

"Let me attend to her now," said Robert.  "I see by
your eye that you wish to go.  But if you will only wait
a minute, I think sister will be sufficiently well for me to
go with you."

"I am well enough now," she faintly replied.  "You
need not stay on my account.  Do kill him.  He can't be
far away.  Oh, the horrible"--she covered her eyes with
both hands, and shuddered.

"But will you not be afraid to have us leave you?"
asked Robert.

"No, no; not if you go to kill that terrible creature.
Do go, before he gets away."

Sam had in the meantime hobbled in, and the boys
needed no other encouragement.  Frank showed them
the direction taken by the bear, and they set out instantly
in pursuit.  Mum had already been smelling around, and
exhibiting signs of rage.  Now he started off on a brisk
trot.  They followed him to a moist, mossy place, where
the bear appeared to have rolled on the damp ground, and
drawn the wet moss around it to alleviate the pain of the
fire; then to another low place, where he showed by his
increasing excitement that the game was near at hand.
Indeed, they could hear every minute a half whine, half
growl, which proved that the troubled beast was there in
great pain, and conscious of their approach.  But it did
not long remain.  Seeming to know that it had brought
upon itself a terrible retribution, by attacking the quiet
settlement, it broke from the cover, and ran to a large
oak, in the edge of the neighbouring hammock, and when
the boys arrived, they found it climbing painfully, a few
feet above ground.  Its huge paws convulsively grasped
the trunk, and it made desperate efforts to ascend, as
if confident that climbing that tree was its only refuge,
and yet finding this to fail it in its time of need.
Both boys prepared to shoot, but Harold beckoned to Robert.

"Let me try him in the ear with a rifle ball, while you
keep your barrels ready in case he is not killed."

He advanced within ten paces, rested his rifle
deliberately against a tree, took aim without the quivering
of a muscle.  Robert saw him draw a "bead sight" on
his victim, and knew that its fate was sealed.  There was
a flash, a sharp report, and the heavy creature fell to
the earth, like a bag of sand, and the dark blood, oozing
from ears and nose, proved that its sufferings and its
depredations were ended for ever.

"He will give us plenty of fresh pork, the monster!"
said Harold, endeavouring to quell his emotions, by
taking a utilitarian view of the case, and, in consequence,
making a singular medley of remarks, "What claws and
teeth!  I don't wonder that Mary fainted!  She is a
brave girl!"

"Yes, indeed," replied Robert; "there is not one girl
in a thousand that could have stood her ground so well.
And that notion of fighting with hot water--ha! ha!  I
must ask where she got it.  It is capital.  Only see here,
Harold, how this fellow's foot is scalded; this is the
secret of his climbing so badly."

Mary's hot water had done its work effectually.  The
bear was terribly scalded on its paws, breast, face, and
back of its head.  The boys bled it, as they did their
other game, by cutting through the jugular vein and
carotid artery; but wishing to relieve Mary's mind as
soon as possible, they returned to inform her that her
enemy was dead.

"And pray tell me, sister," said Robert merrily, after
recounting the scene just described, "where did you learn
your new art of fighting bears?"

"From cousin Harold," she replied.

"From me, cousin!" Harold repeated.  "Why, I
never heard of such a thing in my life.  How *could* I
have told you?"

"You said one day," Mary continued, "that wild
beasts are afraid of fire, and that they cannot endure the
pain of a burn.  Now when I took up the brand to
defend myself, according to your rule, I remembered that
*hot water* hurts the most, and that moreover I could
*throw* it.  But if you had not mentioned the one, I
should not have thought of the other."

"I think you deserve a patent," said Harold, patting
her pale cheek.  "You have beat the whole of us, not
excepting Robert, who was a perfect hero in his day; for
he conquered a panther with duck-shot, but you have
conquered a bear with a ladle.  Why, cousin Mary,
if ever we return to a civilized country we shall have
to publish you for a heroine."

She smiled at these compliments, but remarked that
she was not heroine enough to covet another such trial;
for that she was a coward after all.

"And you, Master Frank," said Robert, whose pleasurable
feeling excited a disposition to teaze, "you climbed
into a tree."

"Indeed I did," replied Frank, "as fast as I could,
and tried to get sister Mary there too.  But she would
stay and fight the bear with hot water.  Sister, why did
you not come?"

"I did not know why you called," she answered.  "I
did not see anything, and did not know which way to run."

"I think, cousin," remarked Harold, "that if you
had run when Frank called, you would have saved
yourself the battle.  The bear was after your meat, not
after you; and if you had only been willing to give up
that dinner, which you defended so stoutly, he would
probably have eaten it, and let you alone."

With this lively chatting, Mary was so much cheered,
that she joined them at dinner, and partook slightly of
the choice bits that her brother and cousin pressed upon
her.  The afternoon was spent in preparing the flesh of
their game.  They treated it in every respect as they
would pork, except that the animal was flayed; and they
found the flesh well flavoured and pleasant.  The parings
and other fatty parts were by request turned over to
Sam, who prepared from them a soft and useful grease.
The skin was stretched in the sun to dry, after which it
was soaked in water, cleansed of all impurities, and
rubbed well with salt and saltpetre (William had put
up a quantity), and finally with the bear's own grease.
After it had been nicely cured, Harold made a present of
it to Mary, who used it as a mattress so long as she lived
upon the island.

Warned so impressively to protect their habitation
against wild beasts, the boys spent the rest of the week
in erecting a suitable enclosure.  They planted a double
row of stakes around the tent and kitchen, filling up the
interstices with twigs and short poles.  The fence was
higher than their heads, and there was a rustic gateway
so contrived that at a little distance it looked like part
of the fence itself.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`XXXI`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XXXI

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   HARD WORK--LABOUR-SAVING DEVICE--DISCOVERY AS TO THE
   TIME OF THE YEAR--SCHEMES FOR AMUSEMENT--TIDES
   ON THE FLORIDA COAST

.. vspace:: 2

For a fortnight the boys worked very hard, and
yet made but little apparent progress.  Previous
to this, they had devoted two days to Mary's
convenience, and three more to her protection.  The rest
had been spent in hacking, with dull axes, upon an
immense tree.  The log was three feet in diameter, and had
been rough shaped into the general form of a boat,
eighteen feet long.  But having no adze, nor mattock, which
might be used in digging, and receiving from Sam very
little assistance more than the benefit of his advice, they
began to feel somewhat discouraged at the small results of
their unpractised labours.  This caused them to cast in
their minds for some device by which their work might
be facilitated, and thankful enough were they to
Indian ingenuity for suggesting the plan by fire.  They
set small logs of pine along the intended excavation, and
guarding the edges with clay, to prevent the fire from
extending beyond the prescribed limits, had the satisfaction
to see, the next morning, that the work accomplished
by this new agent during the night, was quite as great
as that accomplished by themselves during the day.

For a few days they had been working under the pleasing
stimulation produced by this discovery, when Robert,
pausing in the midst of his work, said,

"Harold, have you any idea what day of the month this is?"

"No," replied Harold, "I know that it is Friday, and
that we are somewhere past the middle of December.
But why do you ask?"

"Because, if I am not mistaken, tomorrow is Christmas
day.  This is the twenty-fourth of December."

The announcement made Sam start.  He looked at
Robert with a half bewildered, half joyful gaze.  The
very name of Christmas brought the fire to his eye.

"Ki, Mas Robbut," said he, "you tink I remember
Christmas?  Who ebber hear o' nigger forget Christmas
befo'?  But for sure, I nebber say Christmas to
myself once, since I been come to dis island.  Eh! eh!  I
wonder if ee ent[#] 'cause dis Injin country, whey dey
nebber hab no Christmas at all?  Eh!  Christmas?
Tomorrow Christmas?"

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] If it is not.

.. vspace:: 2

Robert could have predicted the effect which his
discovery would have upon Sam, but he was excessively
amused to observe how unforgiving he seemed to be to
himself for neglecting this part of a negro's privilege.
As soon as it was settled, by a brief calculation, that the
next day was indeed the twenty-fifth of December,
another thing was settled, of course--that no work should
be done, and that the day should be spent in enjoyment.
Sam clapped his hands, and would have been guilty of
some antic on the occasion, if his lame leg had not
admonished him to be careful.  So he only tossed his cap
into the air, and shouted,

"Merry Christmas to ebbery body here, at Bellevue
and at home!"

"Now comes another question," said Robert; "how
shall the day be spent?  We have no neighbours to visit.
No Christmas trees grow here, and Frank may hang
up his moccasins in vain, for I doubt whether Santa
Claus ever heard of this island."

"O, yes, Mas Robbut," Sam merrily interposed.
"Dere is one neighbour I been want to see for long time.
I hear say I got a countryman[#] libbin way yonder in a
hollow tree.  He is a black nigger, 'sept he is got four
legs and a mighty ugly face."

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] Pronounced long, country ma-an.  It usually means a native
   African.

.. vspace:: 2

"What does the fellow mean?" said Harold, seriously.

"O," replied Robert, laughing, "it is only his way
of asking us to visit our friend the bear.  What do
you think of it?"

"We have *promised* to make Mrs. Bruin a visit," said
Harold, entering into the joke; "and perhaps she may
think it hard if we do not keep our word."  Just then
the conch called them home.  "But let us hear what Mary
and Frank have to say.  I foresee difficulties all
around."

When the question was discussed in general conclave,
Mary looked rather sober.  She had not yet recovered
wholly from her former fright; but not willing to
interfere with a frolic, from which the others seemed to
anticipate so much pleasure, although it seemed to her to
be one of needless peril, she replied that she would
consent on two conditions--one was that they should go on
the raft, to save the immense walk to the spot, and the
other was that they should either put her and Frank
in some place of safety while they fought the bear, or
supply her with an abundance of hot water.

"That idea of the raft is capital," said Robert.  "The
tide will suit exactly for floating down in the morning
and back in the afternoon.  I think we can give sister
all she asks, and the hot water too, if she insists upon it."

A word here about tides on the western coast of
Florida.  From Cape Romano, or Punta Largo, northward
to Tampa, and beyond, there is but one tide in the course
of the day, and that with a rise usually of not more than
three feet.  But south of Cape Romano, and particularly
in the neighbourhood of Chatham Bay, there are two, as
in other parts of the world, except that they are of
unequal lengths, one occupying six, and the other eighteen
hours, with its flood and ebb.  People there call them
"the tide and half tide."  The plan of the boys was to
float down on the nine hour ebb, and to return on the
three hour flood.

Sam's notions about the observation of Christmas eve,
as a part of Christmas, suited exactly the inclination of
the boys; their hands were blistered, and they were glad
of a good excuse for leaving off work, by an hour or two
of the sun.  In anticipation of the next day's absence,
and of the Sabbath succeeding, Frank gathered during
the afternoon plenty of acorns for the poultry, and grass
for the deer and goats, which were to be kept in their
fold; and the others laid up a supply of wood for the
fire.  Mary sliced some nice pieces of venison and bear's
meat, and made some bread and Christmas cakes; all,
which she packed away in a basket, with oranges, limes,
and a bottle of transparent honey.  Long before dark
everything was ready for the expedition.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`XXXII`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XXXII

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   CHRISTMAS MORNING--VOYAGE--VALUABLE DISCOVERY--HOSTILE
   INVASION--ROBBERY--MASTERLY RETREAT--BATTLE
   AT LAST--A QUARREL REQUIRES TWO QUARRELLERS--THE GHOST'S VISIT

.. vspace:: 2

There may have been many a more noisy
Christmas, but never a brighter one, and few
merrier, than that which dawned upon our
young marooners; nor was it entirely without its noise.
The boys had requested Sam, in case he was first awake,
to rouse them at the break of day, and he had promised
to do so.  A secret whispering had been observed
between him and Frank; and the latter had also begged
for a piece of twine, which he promised to return, but
the use of which he refused to tell.  Conjecturing that
it was intended for some piece of harmless fun, they gave
it to him, and waited his own time to reveal the purpose.

On going to bed Mary noticed that Frank fidgetted a
great deal with his toes, and seemed to be much tickled
with several remarks made by himself, but which seemed
to her to have nothing in them particularly witty.  He
was evidently in a frolic, and wanted excuses to laugh.
In the dead of night, as Mary supposed, though it was
really just before day, she was awakened by feeling him
move restlessly, and then put his hands to his feet with
the inquiry:

"What is the matter with my toe?"

"Is there anything the matter with it!" she drowsily
asked.

"O, no, nothing at all," he replied.  "I dreamed that
a rat was gnawing it off.  But it is only a string I tied
there myself."

He then turned over, and lay still, pretending to be
asleep; but when he heard her breathe hard, he slipped
out of bed, put on his clothes, and went softly out of the
tent.  Sam had agreed to wake him, so that they two
might, according to Christmas custom, "catch" the
others, by hailing them first; and as Sam could not go into
the room where Mary slept, he persuaded Frank to tie a
string to one of his toes, and to pass the other end outside
of the tent.  It was Sam's pulling at this string that gave
Frank his dream, and finally waked him.  For a minute
or two they whispered together in merry mood, and on
Sam's saying, "Now, Mas Frank, now!" the roar of two
guns, and then the sound of a conch, broke upon the
ears of the startled sleepers.

"Good morning, lazy folks!" said Frank, bursting
into the tent.  "Merry Christmas to you all!"

"Merry Christmas, Mas Robbut!" Sam echoed from
behind, "Merry Christmas, Mas Harrol!  Merry
Christmas, little Missus!"

"Fairly caught!" answered Robert; "and now, I
suppose, we must look out some presents for you both."

The company completed their toilet, and came
together under the awning, which was still their kitchen.
The day star was "flaming" gloriously, and the
approach of day was marked by a hazy belt of light above
the eastern horizon.  They kindled their fire, and
prepared for breakfast, with many jests and kind
expressions; then sobering themselves to a becoming gravity,
they sat around the red blaze, and engaged in their
usual morning worship.

While the sun threw his first slanting beams across
the island, Harold went to the landing, and returned,
saying, "Come all.  The tide has been going down for
hours, and is now running like a mill-tail!"

Hastening their preparations, they were in a short
time seated upon the raft, Sam at the helm, and Robert
and Harold by turn at the oars.  Borne by the current,
and impelled by their own efforts, they were not two
hours in reaching the proposed landing place.

.. _`They were not two hours in reaching the proposed landing place`:

.. figure:: images/img-266.jpg
   :align: center
   :alt: They were not two hours in reaching the proposed landing place

   They were not two hours in reaching the proposed landing place

The river was exceedingly crooked, and so densely
bordered with mangroves, that from the place they left
to that which they sought, it was nowhere possible for
them to reach the shore.  Once when they approached
nearest land, they saw a herd of deer peep inquisitively
at them through an opening glade, and turn quietly to
feed.  The tall heron was a frequent sight, lifting its long
blue neck high as their heads, and then flapping its broad
wings to escape too near an approach; and the dapper
kingfisher turning his big head to look at them; and the
"poor jobs," or small white cranes clustering thick upon
the dead trees; and the Spanish curlew sticking forward
its long curved bill; and the grey curlew with its keen
note; and the marsh hens, cackling far and near, to say
(such is the report) that the tide is moving; and ducks
rising in clouds from different points of the marsh and
reaches of the river;--these sights were very frequent,
and seen with the bright eyes of young people on a
Christmas excursion, imparted a charming vivacity to the
scene.

Passing a creek which drained the marsh to their left,
they made a discovery, which proved a valuable one
indeed.  Harold was looking up the creek with that
universal scrutiny that had become in him second nature,
when he suddenly dropped his oars, exclaiming, "What
is that?"

The raft shot so quickly past that no one but Sam
had time to look.  He, however, replied instantly, "Starn
ob a vessel!"

"Stern of a vessel, did you say?" inquired Robert.
"'Bout ship, Sam.  Come, Harold, let us pull right for
it and see."

They brought the raft into an eddy near shore, and
though it required a prodigious pull to propel so clumsy
a thing against the tide from the creek, they managed
to do so, and discovered not the stern of a vessel only,
but the whole of a small brig turned bottom upwards,
and lying across the creek jammed in the mud and mangroves.

"Well, that is indeed a Christmas gift worth having,"
said Robert.  "Did I say Santa Claus never heard of
this island?  I take that back; he has not forgotten us."

"He or some One greater," interposed Mary, with
seriousness.

They rowed alongside, and tried to enter; but having
no tools for penetrating the vessel's side, nor candles for
lighting them after they had entered, they concluded to
prosecute their voyage, and to delay their visit to the
wreck till Monday.

With this intention they pushed out of the creek, and
descended to the proposed landing, where they made
fast their raft to a crooked root, and stepped upon a
firm beach of mixed mud and sand.  The fiddlers (a
small variety of crabs that look at a little distance like
enormous black spiders) were scampering in every
direction, with their mouths covered with foam, and their
threatening claws raised in self-defence, until each one
dived into its little hole, and peeped slyly at the strange
intruders.  A wild cat sat upon a neighbouring tree,
watching their motions with as much composure as if she
were a favourite tabby in her mistress' parlour.  Frank
was the first to spy and point it out.  It was within a
good rifle shot.

"Stand still a moment, if you wish to see how far a
cat can jump," said Harold.

He rested his rifle upon a small tree, and taking steady
aim, sent the ball, from a distance of seventy yards,
through both sides of the cat, directly behind the
shoulders.  She leaped an immense distance, and fell dead.
Frank seized it, saying it was *his* cat, and that he
intended to take off its skin, and make it into a cap like
cousin Harold's.

From the landing they followed the mark left by their
hatchet upon the trees in their exploring tour, and it was
not long before they recognized from a distance the
poplar or tulip tree, in the hollow base of which the bear
had made her den.

As yet Mum had given no indications of alarm; but
on approaching the tree the boys selected for Mary and
Frank a pretty little oak, with horizontal branches, in
full sight of the den; and having prepared them a seat
made comfortable with moss, and helped them into it,
advanced to the field of battle.

To their disappointment the old bear was gone.  The
sun shone full into the hole, and revealed the two cubs
alone, nicely rolled up in the middle of their bed, and
soundly asleep.  There was some reason to suppose that
the mother would return before they left the neighbourhood,
and in this expectation Harold prepared to secure
the cubs.  He placed Robert and Sam as videttes at a
little distance, and also charged Mary and Frank to
keep a sharp look out from their elevated position, while
Mum and Fidelle were set to beating the surrounding
bushes as scouts.  But, notwithstanding all his care
and skill, he found that the work of capturing the cubs
was very difficult.  The cavity being too large to allow
of reaching them with his arms, and afraid to trust
himself inside the hole, lest the old bear should arrive
and catch him in the act, he relied upon throwing a slip
noose over their heads, or upon their feet; but young
as they were he found them astonishingly expert in
warding off his traps.  The only plan by which he at
last succeeded, was with a hooked pole, by which he drew
forth first one, and then the other, to the mouth of the den,
where, after sundry bites and scratches, he seized their
hind legs, passed a cord round their necks, and made it
secure by a fast knot.  This done, he tied each to a tree,
where they growled and whined loudly for help.  The
hunters were now in a momentary expectation of
hearing the bushes burst asunder, and seeing the old bear
come roaring upon them; but she was too far distant,
and had no suspicion of the savage robbery that was
going on at her quiet home.

It was fully an hour before the cubs were taken
and secured.  By that time Mary and Frank had become
so weary of their unnatural roosting, that they begged the
others to cease their hunt, and return at once to the raft.
But here arose a new and unforeseen difficulty.  The
distance to the raft was considerable, and the way was so
tangled that they had made slow progress when they
came; what could they now do, encumbered with two
disorderly captives, and in constant danger of attack from
the fiercest beast of the forest, "a bear robbed of her
whelps"?  It was easy enough to decide this question, if
they would consent to free the captives and return as
they came.  But no one, except Mary and Frank,
entertained this idea for a moment; they would have been
ashamed to give up through fear what they had
undertaken through choice.

The plan they at last devised was this--which though
appearing to assign the post of danger to the youngest,
was in fact the safest they could adopt.  Mary and
Frank led each a cub, but they were instructed to drop
the cord on the first appearance of danger, and run to
the safest point.  Sam marched in the van, Harold
brought up the rear; Mary and Frank were in the centre,
and while Robert guarded one flank, the dogs were kept
as much as possible on the other.  It was with much
misgiving that this plan was adopted, for the boys began
to feel that they had engaged in a foolish scrape,
involving a needless exposure of the young people, as well
as of themselves.  But they were now *in for it*, and they
had no choice, except to go forward or to give up the
project in disgrace.  Formed in retreating column as
described, and ready for instant battle, they turned their
faces to the river, and marched with what haste they could.

They had not gone many steps, however, before Harold
suddenly faced about, levelled his piece, and called
to them to "look out!"  He heard a bush move behind
him, and supposed, of course, that it was the bear
coming in pursuit, but it proved to be only a bent twig
righting itself to its natural position.

Not long after Robert raised a similar alarm on his
side, and levelled his gun at some unseen object that
was moving rapidly through the bushes.  Mary and
Frank dropped the cords, and Frank clambered up a
small tree near at hand.  Mary turned very pale, and ran
first to Sam, but hearing the noise approach that way,
she ran back to Harold for protection.  The next
moment she saw Sam drop his gun from its aim, and call out,

"You Mum!  Come in, sah!  You git yo' libber shot
out o' you, you scary warment!"

The alarm was occasioned by Mum, who, unperceived
by any, had wandered to the wrong side.

The cubs, trained by this time to obey the cord, and
either weary with the walk, or submissive to a fate that
seemed so gentle, had not stirred from the spot where
they were left.  Frank slipped quietly from his tree,
hoping that nobody had seen him; but Robert caught his
eye, and gave a sly wink, to which Frank doggedly replied,

"I don't care, sir.  I suspect you would like to have
been up a tree too, if you could have got there."

"That I should, Frank," said Robert; "but it seems
that you are the only one of the crowd who can find trees
in time when bears are about."

They resumed their march to the landing, and were
interrupted only once more.  The bushes before them
rustled loudly, Fidelle rushed forward in pursuit, and
the ground shook with the heavy trampling of some
large beast.  It was on Sam's side; but as he brought his
piece to a level, Harold cried, "Deer! deer! don't shoot!"
and again all was quiet.

A short walk brought them to the landing; where they
wiped their moist brows, and rested, thankful that they
had completed their perilous journey without accident.
But their dangers were by no means over.  The tide was
down; the raft was aground; it was not possible to leave
for hours; and in the meantime the enraged beast might
follow the trace of her cubs, and perhaps assault them
where they were.  In view of this contingency they tied
the young bears at a distance from the shore, but within
sight of their own place of repose, confident that if the
mother came she would bestow her first care in breaking
their bonds, and taking them away, in which case they
could attack and destroy her.

With this expectation they sat down to their
Christmas dinner, for which they had by this time a pretty
keen appetite.  Sam stood sentry while they ate; then
Robert and Harold by turns took his post, and gave him
opportunity to dine.  The spice of danger gave great
zest to the enjoyment of all except Mary, who would
vastly have preferred being at their comparatively
secure and quiet home upon the prairie.

The tide finally rose, and floated the raft.  They once
more embarked.  The young bears were secured, so
that they could neither escape nor annoy.  The fastening
was cast off.  Harold's oar, which he used as a pole for
shoving off, sunk in the yielding sand, and Robert's
"Heigh ho for home!" was hardly uttered, when they
heard a tramping on the bluff, and a moment after saw
the bear standing on the spot they had left.  She stared
in surprise at the retreating raft, whined affectionately
to her cubs, who whined in answer, and tried to break
loose; then seeing their efforts to be ineffectual, and the
raft to be moving away, she raised such a roar as made
every heart tremble, and with a fierce look at the persons
on board plunged into the water.  The raft was by this
time but ten yards from shore, and slowly "backing"
into the stream.  Harold's rifle was quickly at his
shoulder, and in a second more the blood spouted from the
mouth and nose of the terrible beast.  But the wound
was not mortal, piercing below the eyes, and entering the
nostrils and throat; and blowing out the blood by
successive snorts, she plunged on, and began to swim.

"Now, Robert!" shouted Harold, "be steady!  Aim
between her eyes!"

Robert fired first one barrel, and then the other; the
bear sunk for a moment, borne down by the heavy shot,
but she rose again, streaming with gore, and roaring till
the waters trembled.  Sam's gun was the only remaining
chance, and he used it most judiciously.  Waiting
until the bear was almost ready to place her feet upon the
raft, he coolly levelled his gun, and putting the muzzle
within a few inches of her ear, poured its contents bodily
into her brain.  The furious creature had just time to
grasp the side of the raft; she gave one convulsive shake,
and turned on her side, stone dead.

"It was a desperate fight," said Robert, drawing a
long breath.

"And a very foolish one," rejoined Harold.  "I have
been thinking for the last hour that we might have been
better employed."

Robert looked displeased.  "Answer for yourself.  If
it is foolish, you helped to bring it on."

"I know that," replied Harold, with mildness, "and
that makes me condemn it the more."

"Then please, sir, not to blame the rest," said Robert,
"for I am sure everybody behaved as bravely as people
could."

"I have not questioned any one's courage, nor have
I quarrelled with any one except myself," replied Harold.

"Yes, sir, you have," persisted Robert, "you called us
all a parcel of fools for coming on a Christmas excursion."

"O! no, brother," mediated Mary, "he only said we
might have been better employed; and I think father
would say so too.  I am sure if I had known all before
coming, as I know it now, I should not have given my
consent."

"Please, mossa," said Sam, looking from one to the
other, "'tain't any o' you been de fool.  Nobody fool
but me.  Enty I ax you,[#] please come see my countryman
in de hollow tree; and you come?  And now, please,
mossa, don't let my countryman git away.  See he
floatin' away to de alligator.  Please let me catch 'em.  I
want him fat to fry my hominy."

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.. class:: noindent small

   [#] Did not I ask you.

.. vspace:: 2

Sam looked so whimsical throughout the whole of this
eloquent appeal, that Robert's face relaxed from its
stern and angry expression, and at the last words he
caught Harold's eye, and burst into a laugh.

"Come, Harold," said he, "let us save his fat; I know
his mouth waters for it."

The quarrel was over.  Indeed it could not properly be
called a quarrel, for it was all on one side, and no one can
quarrel alone.  They caught the floating carcass, tied
it behind the raft, then pulling into the current, floated
rapidly home, and reached the prairie about the middle
of the afternoon.

For the rest of the day their hands were full; and it
was not until late at night that they were able to retire.
The young bears were first stowed away in the same pen
with the goats and deer, but Harold was scarcely able
to remove them in time to save their lives; for Nanny,
after running from them as far as the limits of the pen
allowed, rose upon her hind legs with a desperate baa! and
bringing her stony forehead against the head of the
nearest, laid it senseless on the ground, and was
preparing to serve the other in the same way.

What to do with them Harold did not know.  He
dared not put them in the poultry house, and he was
unwilling either to shelter them in the tent or to tie them
outside the palisade.  So, until some other arrangement
could be devised, he fastened them to a stake inside
the enclosure round the tent, where he supplied them
with water, honey, and a piece of venison.

The adventure, however, was not quite over.  Late in
the night Sam was awaked by feeling something move
upon his bed, and put its cold nose upon his face.
Thinking it was some one walking in his sleep, he called
out, "Who dah?" and putting out his hand, felt to his
dismay the rough head and shaggy skin of a bear.  Sam
was a firm believer in ghosts, both human and brute.
He gave one groan, and cried out, "O massy!" expecting
the next moment to be overpowered, if not torn to
pieces; then jumping from bed in the greatest hurry,
he hunted tremulously for some weapon of defence,
exclaiming all the while,

"Mas Harrol!  Mas Robbut!  O massy!  Here de
ole bear, or else he ghost, come after us."

The taper was brought from Mary's room, and disclosed
the secret.  One of the cubs feeling in the chill,
night air the want of its mother's warmth, had loosed
the insecure fastening, and come to seek more comfortable
quarters in the tent.  "It is your countryman's baby,
Sam," said Robert, after the excitement had subsided.
"You killed its mother, and it has come, poor little
orphan, to ask that you shall be its daddy now."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`XXXIII`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XXXIII

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   THE CUBS--VOYAGE TO THE WRECK--STORES--HORRID
   SIGHTS--TRYING PREDICAMENT--PRIZES--RETURN--FRANK
   NEEDS ANOTHER LECTURE

.. vspace:: 2

Early on Monday morning Robert and Harold
set out for the wreck, leaving Sam to guard the
young people, and to add another apartment to
the fold, for the accommodation of the cubs.  It may be
stated here, that the new pets had eaten little or nothing
since they were taken.  For several days Sam was
compelled to force the food and water into their mouths;
but after they had acquired the art of feeding in a
domestic way, Frank assumed their whole care, and was
indefatigable in attending to their wants and their
education.  He taught them to stand on their hind feet and
beg; to make a bow by scraping their feet, like country
clowns; and many a wrestling match did he have with
them, in which for a long time he was invariably the
victor.  Robert named them, after the twins of old,
Castor and Pollux.

By Sam's advice, the boys took with them on their
voyage an ax, hatchet, auger, and saw, together with
some candles and a rope, and reached the wreck about
nine o'clock.  They moored their raft fast to a projecting
bolt, and then, with much difficulty, succeeded in
reaching the stern windows, from which the receding tide
flowed gently, bearing on its bosom an unpleasant odour,
like that of animal matter long decayed.  They peeped
into the dark cavity, and receiving a full blast of its
sepulchral odours, drew back in disgust.

"I cannot go into *that* hole," said Harold, "it is
stifling.  Let us cut a passage through the side or bottom."

Clambering along the sloping side next the rudder,
they selected a place for their scuttle, and commenced to
work, but the thick and well fastened copper was so
difficult to remove, that their hatchet was nearly ruined
before they reached the wood.  Then, with their auger,
they made an entrance for the saw, and soon opened a
hole between two of the ribs, large enough to admit their
bodies.

Harold descended first, and standing upon a hogshead,
which, being on the top of a confused pile, reached near
the hole, lit a candle, and helped Robert to descend.

They were in the hold where all the grosser articles
were stowed.  Some of the hogsheads visible appeared
to contain sugar, others molasses, rum, &c.  Passing
towards the stern, they saw half a dozen boxes and crates,
of different sizes, one of which was filled with lemons,
and from the other, on being broken, rolled out a
cocoanut.  Returning from this hasty survey towards the
forward part of the hold, they discovered a plentiful
supply of flour, ship-bread, rice, hams, and beef, stowed away
in the style appropriate to each.  The vessel was
evidently victualled for a long voyage.

Satisfied with this partial examination, they returned
amidships, and sought the hatchway, through which they
might descend into the habitable part of the vessel.  It
was choked by such a multitude of boxes and bags, that
they were a long time in finding it, and longer still in
freeing it from encumbrances.  Descending by their
rope, they found themselves on the inner side of the
inverted deck.  The water had by this time all run off,
except a puddle in one corner; and the floor, or rather
that which had been ceiling, was wet and slimy, with
deposits from the muddy river water.

On entering the cabin the sight which greeted them
was horrid.  There lay four skeletons, of a man and
woman, a boy and girl, handsomely dressed; the soiled
though costly garments still adhering to the wet and
ghastly bones.  The sight was more than Harold could
endure; he called to Robert, and hastened as fast as
possible to the open air.

"O, horrid! horrid!" said he, pale as a sheet.  "I
don't think I can ever go back to that dreadful cabin.
It made me almost faint."

"It was horrid, indeed," responded Robert.  "But
you will soon recover; the trouble was more in your
mind than in your body.  I doubt not you are feeling
as father says he felt when going first into a dissecting
room--he fainted outright; and he said that this is no
uncommon thing with beginners, but they soon become
used to it."

"I am willing enough to go through the whole vessel,"
said Harold, "but not into that cabin, for a while
at least."

"Poor creatures!" sighed Robert, "they appear to
have been passengers; and unless the cabin filled soon
with water, they must have had a lingering death."

"Don't speak of it," Harold pleaded.  "The bare
thought makes me shudder.  And then to think of their
being devoured by such slimy things as eels and catfish,
and of being pinched to pieces by crabs, as these bodies
were--it is sickening!"

Robert perceived that these reflections were exceedingly
painful to his cousin, and had been in fact the
cause of his sickness; he therefore managed adroitly
to shift the conversation from point to point, until it
gradually assumed a cheerful character.  Pleasant
thoughts were the medicine Harold needed, and in the
course of a few minutes he himself proposed to renew
the search.

Descending between decks, they found in the side of
the vessel, contrary to custom, the cook's room.  It
contained a stove, with all its appurtenances complete.  This
was a real treasure; they rejoiced to think how much
labour and trouble would be saved to Mary, whose
patience and ingenuity were often put to the test for the
want of suitable utensils.

The steward's room adjoined; and here they found
crockery of all sorts, though most of it was in
fragments; knives, forks, spoons, and candlesticks, none of
which they valued, having plenty of their own; two
bottles of olives, and a case of anchovies, sound and good,
and a fine set of castors, partly broken, containing
mustard, pepper, catsup and vinegar.  Upon the topmost
shelf (or under what *had been* the lowest) were two
large lockers, which they opened with difficulty, the door
being fast glued with paste, and out of which poured a
deluge of musty flour from an upturned barrel.  There
were also different kinds of hard biscuit and ship bread,
but they were all spoiled.

From these two rooms they passed with great difficulty
to the forecastle, having to cut their way through a thick
partition.  Here the sight was more appalling than that
which they had witnessed in the cabin.  Lying on the
floor, partly immersed in a muddy pool, were the
skeletons of eight men and two boys; and in the midst of them
they heard such a splashing of the water that their blood
ran cold, and their hair stood on end.  They started
back in terror, thinking at first that the dead had waked
from sleep, and were moving before their eyes; in
doing so, Robert, who carried the candle, jostled roughly
against Harold, and instantly they were in darkness.

"O mercy! mercy!" Robert ejaculated, in an agony
of alarm, and falling upon his knees clasped his hands
together, expecting every moment to be his last.  Harold,
however, with that presence of mind which is the mark of
true courage, and is the best preservative in time of
danger, threw his arms around him, to prevent him from
escaping, and fortunately recovered the candle, which
had dropped in the edge of the wet slime upon the floor.

"Nothing but fishes!" said he, divining the state of
Robert's mind from what he knew of his own.  "Nothing
but fishes!  I saw one leap from the water.  Softly,
Robert, let us light the candle."

The quieting effect of a soft, calm voice in a season
of excitement is magical.  Robert's excessive fear
subsided, and though he trembled violently, he aided
Harold to re-light the candle.  Fortunately the wick was
scarcely touched by the water; there was a slight
spluttering from a particle or two of damp mud, but the flame
soon rose bright as ever.  Harold's hand now began to
tremble; for though in the moment of trial his nerves had
been stretched and steady as a tense wire, the re-action
was so great that he began to feel weak.  Robert
perceived this, and pulling his sleeve said,

"Come, let us go."

Harold's courage, however, was of that sturdy kind
that rises with the occasion, and he replied, "No, I mean
to go through with it now.  I was driven from the cabin
by a bad smell, but no one shall say that I was scared
off by a few catfish.  Look, do you not see them
floundering in the water?"

A calm inspection wholly relieved Robert from his
fears, and he continued to examine the room with
composure, although while looking he beheld the startling
sight of a skeleton in actual motion through the water,
a large fish having entered its cavity, and become
entangled in the adhering clothes, giving a most lifelike
motion to the arms and legs.

A glance around this room was sufficient to convince
them that the vessel was of a warlike character.  Great
numbers of guns, pistols, cutlasses, and pikes, were
visible on the floor, where they had fallen into the water, or
against the walls where they had been fastened.  The
boys surveyed these significant appendages, exchanged
glances with each other, and simultaneously exclaimed,
"A cutter, or a pirate!"

"I doubt whether it can be a cutter," said Robert;
"my mind misgives me that it is a vessel of bad
character.  But we can tell by going to the captain's room.
Let us see."

They returned to the cabin, and entering the room
which appeared to be the captain's, found it abundantly
supplied with arms of various sorts, and (though mostly
injured by the sea-water) of exquisite finish.  Of papers
they saw none; these were probably contained in a heavy
iron chest which was fast locked, and the key of which
was nowhere to be found.  In the mate's room,
however, the evidences were more decisive.  There were
flags of all nations; and among them one whose hue was
jet black, except in the middle, where were sewed the
snow-white figures of a skull and cross-bones.  From
the side-pocket of a coat, which lay in the berth, they
took a pocket-book, containing letters in Spanish, and
a paper signed by forty-two names, the greater part of
which were marked by a cross.  These indications were
satisfactory, and the boys afterwards ascertained by
circumstantial evidence, which left them no shadow of
a doubt, that not only was the vessel piratical, but that
she was overwhelmed by the same storm that had so
nearly proved fatal to Sam.  The prize, therefore, they
considered their own by right of first discovery--stores,
arms, magazine, money and all.

"By rights there ought to be a carpenter's room
somewhere," said Robert; "or if not a room, there must be
tools, which will help us greatly in our work.  Let us
look for them."

To Harold's mind the tools were the most valuable
part of the prize, unless indeed they could find a boat
ready made.  But before proceeding, they took each a
pistol from the captain's room, loaded, and thrust it
into their bosoms, supposing that they should be more
calm and self-possessed, when conscious of having about
them the means of defence.  The carpenter's room was
found, and in it a chest of splendid tools, and an
excellent grindstone.

With these discoveries the boys were content to think
of returning home; and now they began to feel hungry.
Taking from the steward's room the bottle of olives and
case of anchovies, and breaking open a barrel of
shipbread, from which they filled their pockets, they went
to the open air, taking each a lemon and cocoanut, in
lieu of water and dessert.

It was time to load the raft.  Taking some small bags,
of which they found a number, they filled them with
sugar, coffee, rice, and flour; they brought out six hams,
and, by opening a barrel, six pieces of mess-beef.  In
searching still further, they lit upon a barrel of mackerel,
a firkin of good butter, and a case of English cheese; of
each of which they took a portion, and laid all upon
the most level part of the vessel's bottom, ready for
lowering into the raft.  The kegs of biscuit they found
on trial to be too large to pass through their scuttle;
they emptied them by parcels into a large bag outside.

Hitherto they had said nothing and thought little
about money; for their minds had been fixed on supplying
themselves with necessaries and comforts, together
with the means of returning home.  Indeed, the idea of
enriching themselves at the expense of the dead, even
if they were pirates, savoured rather of robbery, and the
delicate sense of the young explorers was offended by
the thought.

"But let us at least gather whatever of this sort we
may find," said Harold, after exchanging thoughts with
his cousin.  "We can afterwards ask your father to
decide what use shall be made of it."

Neither their consciences nor their pockets, however,
were very heavily burdened with this new charge; for
they found only a few hundred dollars' worth of money,
chiefly in foreign gold, together with several rich jewels,
the greater part of which was discovered in consequence
of an act of kindness to Mary and Frank.

Resolving to return the next day, accompanied by
the whole party, and unwilling to have Mary's nerves
shocked as theirs had been, they determined to remove
all unsightly objects from the cabin, and to close them
up in the forecastle.  A box of sperm candles enabled
them to set a light along the dark passages, and in each
room; and taking a small sail, upon which they
carefully drew the skeletons, they carried them to the
forecastle, and laid them decently in one corner.  From the
person of the man they took a gold watch and chain, a
handsome pencil case, and pocket-knife, a purse containing
several pieces of gold, and a pocket-book, containing
papers, written apparently in Spanish, but almost
perfectly illegible.  The name of this man, marked upon the
clothing, and occasionally appearing in the papers, was
Manuel De Rosa.  Upon the person of the lady were
found a diamond ring, hanging loosely upon the slender
bone of one finger, and on the lace cape over her bosom
a sprig breast-pin, whose leaves were emerald, and its
flower of opal.  Her name, and that of the children also,
was De Rosa.  These valuables were collected into a
parcel, together with a lock of hair from each, as the
means of identifying them, should any clue be obtained
to their history and their home.

While removing a coarsely clothed skeleton from that
corner of the forecastle in which they wished to deposit
the bones of the perished family, they found it so
much heavier than the others, as to induce a closer
examination.  They found hid beneath the clothing, and
belted to the bones, a large girdle, containing fifty-four
Mexican dollars, a variety of gold pieces from different
nations, and a lump of what appeared to be gold and
silver fused into one mass.  The name of this man
could not be ascertained.

Their next work was to fumigate the cabin.  They
wrapped a little sugar in a piece of brown paper, and
setting it on fire, walked around the room, waving it in
every direction.  The aromatic odour of the burnt sugar
pervaded every crack and cranny, and overwhelmed so
entirely the disgusting effluvium, that Robert snuffed
at the pleasant fragrance, and remarked, "There, now! the
cabin is fit for the nose of a king.  Let us close up
the forecastle, and return home."

Beside the provisions, which have been already
mentioned as constituting a part of the intended load for
the raft, the boys carried out such tools as they
conceived needful for their work, consisting of adzes,
drawing-knives, augers, gimlets, chisels, planes, saws, square
and compass, and an oil-stone.  They also took the box
of sperm candles and a box of soap; three cutlasses and
a rapier, four pikes, four pair of pistols, three rifles,
two muskets, and flasks and pouches to suit.  Gunpowder
they did not see, except what was in the flasks;
they knew there must be plenty in the magazine, which
they supposed to be near the officers' rooms, but which
they did not care then to visit.

A short but laborious tug against the tide, that set
strongly up the creek, brought them to the river, on
which they floated gently home.  When within half a
mile of the landing, they fired a gun, as a signal of
their approach; and long before they reached the shore,
Mary and Frank were seen running to meet them, with
Mum and Fidelle scampering before, and Sam hobbling
far in the rear.

"Here, Frank, is your Christmas present," said
Robert, when the raft touched land; "and here, Sam,
is yours, at least so long as we stay upon the island."

He tossed the one a cocoanut, and handed the other
a musket and cutlass.  Harold's presents were still more
acceptable; he gave Frank a nice pocket-knife, somewhat
the worse for rust, and gave Sam a large twist of
tobacco.

Frank's eyes twinkled with pleasure at the sight of
the knife; but Sam's expression of countenance was
really ludicrous.  He was a great chewer and smoker of
tobacco, and the sight of that big black twist, after so
long a privation, brought the tears to his eyes.  He
scraped his foot, and tried to laugh.

"Tankee, Mas Robbut!  Tousand tankee to you, Mas
Harrol!  Sword, gun, tobacky!  I-ee!  I feel like I kin
fight all de bear and panter in de wull!"

As the work of unloading and transporting to the
tent occupied only about two hours, they had time
sufficient, before dark, to construct another and a larger
raft.  There was a poplar, fallen and dry, near the
water's edge; this they cut into suitable lengths, and
across the long logs they laid a floor of short ones, so
that they doubted not being able at their next load to
bring from the wreck all that they wished.





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.. _`XXXIV`:

.. class:: center large

   CHAPTER XXXIV

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   SECOND VOYAGE TO THE WRECK--FUMIGATING AGAIN--MORE
   MINUTE EXAMINATION--RETURN--ACCIDENT--DANGERS
   OF HELPING A DROWNING PERSON--RECOVERING
   A PERSON APPARENTLY DROWNED

.. vspace:: 2

Next morning our young marooners endeavoured
to make as early a start as on the day
before; but there being now more persons to go,
each of whom had some preparation to make; and besides
that, encumbered by another clumsy float of logs, their
arrival at the wreck was fully an hour later.  Securing
the two rafts to the vessel's side, Robert and Harold
clambered to the hole they had cut, by the help of a
rope tied there for the purpose; then making a
slipknot at the end, they drew up Sam, Frank, and finally,
Mary.  The new comers were so anxious to enter the
vessel that they could scarcely wait for the lighting of
a candle, but slid at once into the hold, and began
rummaging by means of the imperfect light transmitted
through the scuttle.

The examination of the hold on the day before had
been so thorough, that few more discoveries of
importance remained to be made; and the new comers,
burning with curiosity, begged to be conducted to the
rooms below.  Entering the cabin, Mary and Frank
were repelled by the unpleasant odour that, notwithstanding
the former fumigation, still continued; but the
smell was on this occasion mingled more with that of
mud, and Robert managed by a quick allusion to the
river slime, and the nauseous odour of the mangroves,
to prevent Mary's suspicion of the real cause.

"We burnt some sugar here, on yesterday," said he,
"but the tide has been up since, and we shall have to
burn more.  Or stay--we can try something else.  I
recollect hearing father say that burning coffee is one of
the best fumigators in the world."

He brought some coffee from the hold, and wrapping
it in paper, tried to burn it, as he did the sugar; but
it was not so easily ignited; and Mary, in her impatience,
took some sugar, and setting it on fire while he was
experimenting with the damp coffee, so thoroughly
impregnated the room with its fragrant fumes, that they
were ready to begin their examination.

The first thing they noticed on entering the cabin,
was a handsome sofa and set of chairs.  Overhead,
screwed fast to what had been the floor, was an extension
table, capable of seating from four to twelve persons.
Mary clapped her hands at this welcome sight, exclaiming:

"O, now we can sit and eat like decent people again!"

To their right was a little room, with its door open.
On entering it, they saw a boy's cap and pair of shoes.
Frank pounced upon these, and tried them on, with
several merry jests, to which the others made no reply,
for the larger boys thought immediately of the little
skeleton to which these had belonged.  A trunk was
there too, perched upon the upturned bottom of what
had been the lowest berth, containing the usual
wardrobe of the boy; and beside it, the trunk and carpet bag
of the girl.  These last were locked.  On forcing them
open, Mary found many of the articles in a state of
perfect preservation; though the linen and cotton were
sadly mildewed, and almost spoiled.  She saw at a
glance that the silk dresses, and other parts of attire,
were nearly all the same size with her own.  But though
greatly in need of clothing, and fitted almost exactly in
what she found, she manifested more sadness than
pleasure at the sight; her mind reverted irresistibly to
the former wearer, who was no doubt as fond of life
as herself.

"Poor thing!" she said, as tears came into her eyes,
after turning over several articles, "and her name was
Mary, too.  See here, 'Marie De Rosa,' written so neatly
on this white handkerchief.  What a beautiful name!
I wish I knew her."

Fastened to the wall was a neat looking-glass, and
beside it a handsome hair-brush, hung by a blue ribbon
to a small brass knob; but the water had dissolved the
glue, and the rosewood veneering had separated from
the brush.  On the floor were two ivory combs, and the
fragments of pitcher, bason, and tumblers, lying with
the towels.  In the berths were two hair mattresses,
whose ticking was mouldy and mildewed, but they were
otherwise good; and in each, with the damp sheets, was
a pair of blankets as good as new.

Next to this room was another, whose door was jammed
and swollen tight.  Forcing it open, they found two
trunks and travelling bags, with various articles of
male and female attire--a hat and pair of boots, a bonnet
and rich shawl, the little boy's boots and best cap, and
the girl's parasol and cloak; new evidences these, to the
boys, to prove that the four skeletons belonged to one
family.  There were also several books, but they were
in Spanish, and so perfectly soaked and blackened as to
be useless, even had they been in their own language.
The De Rosas were evidently a family of wealth and
education.

The other rooms were furnished with the usual
appendages of warlike men, and beside these there was
little else to tell who or what they were.  Their papers
and valuables were probably locked up in the iron chest,
or left behind where they had concealed their treasures.

Passing from the cabin, their attention was arrested
at the door by a small closet under the companion-way.
Harold stood upon a stool and examined it.  There were
silver cups, of various figures, a basket of champagne
wine, and many bottles and decanters, or rather their
fragments, which appeared to have held different kinds
of liquors.

"Bah!" said Harold, "liquor in the hold--liquor in
the rooms--liquor in the closets--there is more liquor
than anything else aboard, except guns and pistols."

"They naturally go together," responded Robert.  "I
suspect the poor fellows needed the liquor to fit them
for their wicked works."

From the cabin they went to the carpenter's room.
Sam decided in a moment that he must have the grindstone,
and the rest of the tools--they were too good to
be lost.  He also looked wistfully at the work-bench,
with the iron vice attached, and said he thought they
could force it from the wall, and float it behind the
rafts.  But the boys mistrusted his partiality for tools,
and decided that it was not so important as some other
things.

Next to the carpenter's room was another, into which
they forced an entrance with the ax.  This was the
gunner's.  Here they found cartridges in abundance, of
all sorts and sizes, bomb-shells, clusters of grape-shot,
canisters of balls, a profusion of cannon shot of several
sizes, and two small cannons of brass, with balls to suit.
There were also several large kegs of powder, but the
powder appeared to be spoilt, for the kegs were damp.

When the time came to prepare for loading, the boys
united with Sam to enlarge the scuttle.  They put upon
one raft a keg of rice, and another of flour, the firkin
of butter, two cheeses, six loaves of sugar, the grindstone,
the chest of tools, Sam's box of tobacco, and
more of the hams and beef.  On the other, they put
the extension-table and leaves, six chairs, the sofa, the
trunks of the De Rosas, five mattresses, with their
clothing, the looking-glass, &c.

The return voyage was made in all safety until they
reached the landing; but there occurred one of those
misadventures that appear to come oftenest in seasons
of greatest security.

As the rafts neared the shore, Sam hobbled to the
hindmost end, to look after his darling tobacco, and
having for some reason stooped as one raft struck the
other in stopping, he lost his balance, and fell headlong
into the water.  No one knew of the accident, until
hearing a great splutter, they looked around, and saw
him blowing the water from his nose and mouth, and
wearing a most comical expression of surprise and fear.
They ran, of course, to his assistance, but knowing him
to be a good swimmer, they apprehended no serious
consequences, and were rather disposed to jest than to
be alarmed.  But Sam, who had been already strangling
for a quarter of a minute, so as to be unable to utter a
word, and who discerned at a glance that they did not
apprehend his situation, stretched out his hand
imploringly, and gasped.

"He is drowning!" exclaimed Harold.  "Here, Robert,
help me!" then ran to obtain something buoyant,
to which Sam might cling.  When he returned, bringing
with him a pair of oars (the nearest thing within reach),
he saw his cousin, heedless of danger, and moved only
by sympathy, swimming just over the place where Sam
had sunk.

"Robert!  Robert!  COME AWAY!" he called in a voice
of thunder; "he is too strong for you, and will drown you!"

Robert turned at this earnest and even imperative
call, and began to swim back; but it was too late.  Sam
rose within reach, grasped his arm, drew him up close,
pinioned him firmly, and again sunk out of sight.  Mary
and Frank shrieked as they saw their brother go down,
and Harold stood a moment, with clasped hands,
exclaiming, "My God!  What shall I do?"

At this moment an idea occurred to him.  Calling to
Mary, "Bring me that hat" (it was De Rosa's, and
water-proof), he threw off his coat and vest, then
spreading his handkerchief over the mouth of the hat, so that
he could grasp the corners under the crown, he plunged
into the water, swimming with one hand, and holding the
hat as a temporary life preserver with the other.  As
he expected, Robert rose to the surface and grasped him.
Harold did nothing at first but hold firmly to the hat to
prevent his own sinking, and in that short interval
Robert recovered sufficiently to know what he was about.

"Thank God for *you*, Robert!" said Harold.  "I was
afraid you were gone; here, take the hat and swim to
the raft, while I dive after Sam.  Has he ceased
struggling?"  Robert replied, "Yes."

Joining his hands high over his head, Harold rose
as far as he could from the water, and sank perpendicularly
with his feet close together.  He succeeded
in finding the body, but not in time to seize it, before
he was compelled to rise for the want of breath.  He
came to the surface, panted for a quarter of a minute,
then descended a second time, and rose with the body.
Robert reached him one of the oars, dragged him to the
raft, and then to the shore.

And now what was to be done?  Robert knew well
that when a person has been under water four minutes
and more it is exceedingly difficult to restore life, and
that whosoever would render aid must do it quickly.
His preparations were few and simple.

Begging Mary and Frank to make a fire as soon as
possible, and to heat one of the blankets, he laid the
body with the head lowest, to allow the water to run
from the mouth and throat, while he hastily unloosed
the clothing.  Then laying the body with the head
highest, as in sleep, he and Harold rubbed the skin with all
their might, for the double purpose of removing the
moisture and restoring the heat.

This friction was continued for several minutes, when
Robert, requesting Harold to keep on, tried another
means.  He inserted a reed into one of Sam's nostrils,
which he pressed tightly around it, and closing also the
other nostril and the mouth to prevent the egress of the
air, he blew forcibly until he felt the chest rise, when,
by a gentle pressure, he expelled the air as in natural
respiration.

By this time Mary and Frank had warmed one of the
blankets brought from the vessel.  This Robert wrapped
closely around the body, and while Mary and Frank
were engaged in warming still another, Harold greatly
increased the effectiveness of his friction by tearing a
third blanket into strips, and using the hot pieces as
rubbers.

Persisting for an hour in these simple means, the
anxious company were at last rewarded by the signs of
returning life.  Sam's heart began to beat softly, and
shortly after he gave a sigh.  The boys were nearly
exhausted by their protracted efforts, but still they kept
on; and it was well they did, for many a person has been
lost by neglect after life seemed to have been restored.
When the patient was sufficiently recovered to swallow,
Robert poured down his throat some warm water and
sugar, remarking it was a pity they had brought none of
the wines or spirits which were so abundant on shipboard.

"There is some in the box of tobacco," observed
Frank.  "I saw Sam put a bottle there; and when I
asked him what it was, he said it was rum to rub on
his weak leg."

Robert and Harold exchanged a significant smile; for
though Sam might have intended only what he professed,
they knew that he loved rum as well as tobacco.  It was
fortunate, however, that the spirits were there, for it
was the best stimulant they could administer.  Sam
soon opened his eyes, and began to speak.  His first
words, after looking around, were, "Bless de Lord!
Poor Sam here again!"

Leaving him now to recover slowly, the boys brought
each a chair from the raft, and sat down to rest.

"Why, Robert," said Harold, "you seem to know
by heart the whole rule for restoring a drowned person."

"And why not?  There is nothing mysterious in it?"

"So it seems, and I wish you would teach it to me."

"I can do that in half a breath," replied Robert.
"In father's words, all that you have to do, is to *restore
the warmth and excite the respiration*."

"That, certainly, is simple."

"Father always said," continued Robert, "that he
did not see why boys should not all be taught how
to help one another on such occasions.  'Send for a
doctor,' he said to me, 'but don't wait for him.  Go to
work at once before life is gone.  If you can do nothing
else strip off the wet clothes, and rub, rub, RUB, and blow
into the lungs.  Start the breath, and you will start
the blood, or start the blood, and that will start the
breath, for each comes with the other.  Apply heat
inwardly--outwardly by friction, by clothing, by fire,
by hot bottles, by sand-bags, by any means, and keep
trying for hours.'  That is the rule."

"A good one it is," said Harold.  "But it is a pity
your father did not give you some rule also about
keeping out of the way of drowning people so that you
might put your knowledge to some use, instead of getting
drowned yourself."

"He did," replied Robert, laughing, "but I forgot
it.  It was exceedingly thoughtless in me to do as I
did.  However, I tried to make up for it in another way;
for after Sam had pinioned my arms, I made no effort
whatever, except to take a long breath, and retain my
presence of mind.  When we were going down, I learned
exactly what kind of a grip he had taken, and by the
time we reached bottom, I had drawn up my knees, and
put my feet against the pit of his stomach.  When that
was done I felt safe, for I knew that my legs were
stronger than his arms, and that I could break his hold.
But what did you intend to do when you called me to
help you?"

"I had no exact plan," Harold answered, "except to
keep you from putting yourself in danger, and then to
throw or reach Sam something by which to help
himself.  I had seen drowning people before, and knew very
well that unless you had something to prevent your own
sinking, as I had when you seized me, or unless you
were strong enough (as in this case you were not) to
hold him at arm's length, he would be almost sure to
drown you."

This untoward accident delayed the work of
transportation until near dark, and then it was only the
lighter and more necessary articles that they carried.
Sam gradually recovered, and about dusk, supported by
the boys, he staggered slowly to the tent.





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.. _`XXXV`:

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   CHAPTER XXXV

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.. class:: noindent small

   HOUSEHOLD ARRANGEMENTS--THIRD VISIT TO THE
   WRECK--RAINY WEATHER--AGREEMENT ABOUT WORK--MARY
   IN GREAT DANGER--EXTINGUISHING FIRE ON ONE'S
   DRESS--RELIEF TO A BURN--CONVERSATION

.. vspace:: 2

They did not return to the vessel the next day.
The work of transporting the many heavy
articles brought, and of giving them accommodation,
occupied the whole day.  Indeed, the work of
arranging was by no means easy, for their possessions were
now too large for their dwelling.  They were therefore
compelled to make a new room for Sam and his tools,
by means of some spare sails brought from the wreck;
and this led them to think of erecting still another wing
to the tent, as a place of deposit for their stores of
provision.

By Thursday the return tide came at so late an hour
in the afternoon, that the boys were loth to go upon the
third trip; but there were several other articles of
importance that they needed, and intending to make a
short visit, they did not start until near mid-day.  On
entering the vessel their first work was to remove the
stove; which being quite new and recently put up, they
had no difficulty in taking to pieces, and lowering, with
its appurtenances, into the raft.  The work-bench they
detached, with great labour, from the wall, and tumbled
it over the vessel's side.  From the carpenter's room
they carried several sails, two coils of small rope, and
a hank of twine.  The magazine they did not care to
enter.  Most of the powder in the gunner's room was
wet, but there were two large kegs of cannon powder,
the outside of which was caked and ruined, while the
central part was perfectly good, and also a five pound
canister of superfine rifle powder, which was so tightly
sealed that not a particle of damp had entered.  These
they took.  And dragging out one of the small cannon
they managed, after hard work, to lower it, with its
appropriate carriage, into the raft, and deposited along
with it several dozen balls, and as many canisters to fit
the bore.  These, together with the trunks and clothing
of the officers, the iron vice, a small kit of mackerel, and
the box of cocoanuts, constituted their load.  The
voyage back was made without accident.

On landing, their first business was to shelter their
powder, for the sky was clouding fast, with long blue
belts, that promised rain before morning, and the night
was rapidly coming on.  Unwilling to keep so dangerous
a quantity of powder in the tent, they divided it
into several parcels, and concealed them in hollow trees,
which they closed and marked.

The cannon carriage proved a great convenience in
transporting the trunks, the disjointed parts of the
stove, and other heavy articles to the tent.  But even
with this assistance they did not complete their work
before the night set in.

The next day was wet--wet--wet.  The young people
continued within doors, made a particular examination
of the trunks, and divided among themselves the articles
that were serviceable.  With these employments, and the
fitting up of their stove, they spent all that day, and
part of the next.

It was during that evening, as they sat listening to
the incessant patter of the rain upon the canvas roof,
that the boys conceived and resolved upon a species of
competition, that gave a steady progression to their
work from that time forward.

"Tomorrow is New Year's Day," observed Harold.
"We have been two months and a half upon the island.
Our first boat is not a quarter finished.  Why, Robert,
it will be six months before we get away by our own
exertions; and then your father will have left Bellevue."

"But you forget how many interruptions we have
had," replied Robert.  "First, there was Sam's
misfortune, then yours; after that, our removal to the
prairie, and securing the tent; then this discovery of the
wreck, which has furnished us with food and tools for
continuing our work without interruption.  If I am not
mistaken, the end of January will see us at Bellevue,
or on our way there.  What do you think, Sam--can
we finish our two boats in a month?"

"May be so, massa, if we work mighty hard; but it
will take a heap o' work."

"I doubt if we finish them in two months, work as
we may," remarked Harold.

Robert was not pleased with this discouraging assertion,
though he was startled to find that the usual
prudent Harold entertained such an opinion.

"Now, cousin," said he, "I will put this matter to
the test.  As we boys used to say, I'll make a bargain
with you.  We shall all work on the second boat, until
it is as far advanced as the present one.  Then we
shall each take a boat and work.  Sam shall divide his
time between us.  And if at the end of a month we are
not ready to return home, I'll give up that I am mistaken."

"Give me your hand to that bargain," said Harold.
"You shall not beat me working, if I can help it; but
if, with all our efforts, we leave this island before the
last day of February, I will give up that *I* am mistaken."

Faithful to this agreement, the boys went next
morning to the landing, and brought the various parts of
the work-bench, which they aided Sam in fitting up.
The grindstone also they set upon its necessary fixtures;
and collecting the various tools that were in need of
grinding, they persisted in relieving each other at the
crank, until they had sharpened two very dull axes, two
adzes, three chisels, a broad ax, and a drawing knife,
and stowed them safely under Sam's shelter.

The history of the day, however, was not concluded
without an incident of a very serious character, in which
Mary was the principal, though unwilling actress; and
in which, but for her presence of mind, she would have
met with a painful and terrible death.

About ten o'clock that night she retired to her room,
undressed, and was laying aside the articles of dress
necessary for the next morning, when, turning around,
her night clothes touched the flame of the candle, which,
for the want of a table, she had set upon the floor.  The
next instant she extinguished the candle, and was about
stepping into bed, when her attention was excited by a
dim light shining behind her, and a slight roar, that
increased as the flame ran up her back.  Giving a scream
of terror, she was on the point of rushing into the next
room for help, when recollecting the repeated and earnest
injunctions of her father, she threw herself flat upon
the blanket of the bed, and wrapping it tightly round
her, rolled over and over upon the floor, calling for help.
The flame was almost instantly quenched, as it probably
would have been, even without a blanket, had she only
sat down instantly on the floor, and folded the other part
of her dress tightly over the flame.[#]

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: noindent small

   [#] *Flame ascends*.  All have observed how much more rapidly
   it consumes a sheet of paper held with the burning end down,
   than the same sheet laid on the table.  So with a female's dress;
   an erect posture allows the flame to run almost instantly over
   the whole person.

.. vspace:: 2

But though the *flame* was extinguished, the charred
ends of the dress were not; they kept on burning, and
coming into contact with the naked skin, made her
scream with pain.  The agony was so great, that again
she was almost tempted to throw off the blanket and
rush into the open air, but knowing that this would
certainly increase the fire, and perhaps renew the blaze,
she drew the blanket more tightly around her, and
rolled over, calling to Robert, who had by this time
come to her assistance.  "Pour on water--*water*--WATER!"  Robert
did his best--he fumbled about for
the pitcher, then finding it, asked where the water was
to be poured; but now that the water was ready to be
thrown upon her, Mary felt secure; she cast off the
blanket, and the remaining fire was put out by the
application of Robert's wet hand.

The time occupied by this terrifying scene was scarcely
a minute and a half, yet Mary's night dress was consumed
nearly to her shoulders, and her lower limbs were badly
scorched.  So rapid an agent is fire.  Whoever would
escape destruction from a burning dress, must work
fast, with good judgment and a strong resolution.

Mary's burns were slight in comparison with what
they might have been.  The skin was reddened for a
foot or more along each limb; but it was broken only
in two places, about as wide and long as her two fingers.
Still the pain was excessive, and she wept and groaned
a great deal.  Robert applied cold water for a number
of minutes, and would have continued it longer, but Mary
at last said:

"Bring me a cup full of flour.  I have tried it on
a burnt finger, and you can scarcely imagine how cooling
it is."

The flour was brought, and applied by means of
handkerchiefs tied over the raw and blistered parts.
Its effect was to form a sort of artificial cuticle over those
spots where the skin had been removed; and the soft
and cool sensation it produced in the other parts was
delightful.  Still Mary appeared to suffer so much, that
Robert administered an opiate, as he did in the case of
Sam, and after that he heard no more from her until
next morning.

"What a quick, brave girl she is!" said Harold, after
Robert had described the scene.  "Most girls would have
rushed into the open air, and been burned to death."

"She showed great presence of mind," Robert assented.

"More than that," said Harold, "she showed great
*resolution*.  I knew a beautiful girl at school, who had
presence of mind enough to wrap herself in the hearth
rug, but who could not stand the pain of the fire; she
threw off the rug, rushed into the open air, screaming for
help, and was burnt to death in less than two minutes."

When Mary came from her room next morning her
eyes were dull and glassy, from the effects of the
medicine, and she had no appetite for more than a cup of
coffee.  The others met her with more than their usual
affection.  Her accident had revealed to them how much
they loved her; and her coolness in danger, and
fortitude in suffering, had given them a greater respect for
her character.

"We do sincerely thank God, on your account,
cousin," said Harold, as soon as they were left alone
that Sabbath morning.  "It is so seldom a person meets
with such an accident, without being seriously injured."

"I hope I feel thankful, too," returned Mary.  "I
could not help thinking last night, before going to sleep,
how uncertain life is.  O, I do wish I were a Christian,
as I believe you to be, cousin."

"Indeed, if I am a Christian at all, I wish you were
a far better one," he replied.  "I have neither felt nor
acted as I desired, or supposed I should."

"But still you feel and act very differently from us."

"My feelings are certainly very different from what
they used to be, and I thank God that they are.  Yet
the only particular thing which I recollect of myself, at
the time that I began to feel differently, is that I was
troubled on account of my past life, and wished heartily
to serve God.  To judge from myself, then, I should
say that to *desire to serve God*, is to be a Christian."

"O, I do desire," said Mary, weeping.  "I do, with
all my heart.  But I know I am not what I ought to
be.  I do not love God; I do not trust him; I do not
feel troubled for sin, as I ought to be; and I have no
reason to think that my sins are forgiven."

"I am a poor preacher, Mary," Harold said, with
strong emotion; "for I never knew anything of these
feelings myself, until lately.  But this I can say, that
if you will heartily give yourself to God, to be his
servant for ever, and put your trust in his promises,
you will be accepted.  Did not Jesus Christ come into
this world to save sinners, even the chief?  Does he not
say, 'Him that cometh to me, I will in nowise cast out'?
Now what does the Bible mean, but to encourage all who
feel as you do?"

Mary did not reply; the tears burst through her
fingers, and dropped into her lap.  Harold continued,

"Ever since we came to the island I felt as you feel,
until the Sabbath when I knelt down in the woods, and
gave myself to the Lord.  My heart was very heavy;
I knew that I was a sinner needing forgiveness, and
that I had nothing that I could offer as pay; but I read
where God offers salvation 'without money and
without price,' and again where he says we must 'believe
on him.'  Well, after all that, I could not help
believing; it was sweet to pray--sweet to think of
God--sweet to read the Bible--sweet to do whatever was
pleasing to Him.  I hope it will be so always; and I
long for the time when I can return to Bellevue to
talk with your father about these things.  Now, cousin,
I advise you to try the same plan."

He marked several passages of Scripture for her to
read; then walked into the woods, where he prayed that
the Lord would direct her, so as to find peace by believing
in Jesus Christ.





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.. _`XXXVI`:

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   CHAPTER XXXVI

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   SUCCESSFUL WORK--EXCURSION--THE FISH-EAGLE--DIFFERENT
   METHODS OF PROCURING FIRE--WOODSMAN'S
   SHELTER AGAINST RAIN AND HAIL--NOVEL REFUGE
   FROM FALLING TREES

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Monday morning found the labourers moving
at the dawn of day.  Sam was cook, and
fulfilled his office with unexpected ability.  His
corn-bread was delightful; no one but a negro knows
how to make it.

The tools were in excellent order, and the boys
commenced work in fine spirits.  At Harold's suggestion
they resolved to work very leisurely that day and the
next, as being the surest way to attain expedition in
the end.  Said he,

"My father was a great manager of horses, and
sometimes made tremendous journeys.  But his rule was
always to begin a long journey very moderately.  He
used to say, 'If you strain a horse at the first, he will
move heavily all the way through, but if you spare him
at first, he will become gradually accustomed to the
strain, and be able to push on faster at the end than
at the beginning of the journey!'  Now, as we are the
horses, I think we had better make very moderate
journeys today and tomorrow."

Robert was much pleased with the rule.  Notwithstanding
his boast, he had shuddered at the idea of
blistered hands and weary limbs; but this plan enabled
him to anticipate fresh feelings, and even increasing
labour, so long as they chose to work.

In the course of four days the second tree was cut,
hewed, and excavated to the exact shape and size of
the first.  They then drew for choices, and separated,
each working on his own boat, within hearing of the
other's ax and mallet.  One reason, perhaps, of the
increased rapidity of their work, was a lesson which they
learned of employing every moment to advantage, and of
resting themselves by a mere change of work.  For
instance, when weary of the adze they would resort to the
mallet and chisel, the auger, ax, or drawing-knife, and
this was to some extent a real rest, for fresh muscles were
brought into play while the wearied ones were relieved.

By Friday, however, their whole bodies began to feel
the effects of fatigue; and Harold proposed, that for
that day their arms should be entirely relieved from
labour, and that they should search the woods for timber
suitable for masts, yards, and oars.  They, therefore,
took their guns and hatchets, and went first to the
orange landing, where they saw their old raft lying as
they had left it exactly a month before.  Passing thence
to the place which they had dubbed "Duck Point,"
they proceeded along the beach towards their old
encampment, and thence home.  This was their route;
but it was marked by such a variety of useful expedients,
that we must stop to describe them.

While Robert was engaged for a few minutes in searching
a little grove, Harold saw a fish eagle plunge into
the water, and bring out a trout so large that it could
scarcely fly with it to the shore.  Harold was hungry;
his appetite at breakfast had not allowed him to eat at
all.  Now it began to crave, and the sight of that rich
looking fish whetted it, keenly.  He ran towards the
eagle, crying out,

"I'll divide with you, old gentleman, if you please;
that is too much for one."

The eagle, however, appeared to dissent from the
proposal, and tried hard to carry its prey into a tree,
but apprehensive of being itself caught before it could
rise beyond reach, it dropped the fish, and flying to a
neighbouring tree, watched patiently to see what share
its human robber was disposed to leave.

A fish is easily enough cooked, if a person has fire;
but in this case there was none, and what was worse,
no apparent means of producing it, for their matches
were left behind, and the wadding of their guns was
not of a kind to receive and hold fire from the powder.

"Lend me your watch a minute," said Robert, on
learning what was wanted.  "It is possible that I may
obtain from it what you wish."

Had Robert spoken of some chemical combination for
producing fire, by mixing sand and sea-water, Harold
could scarcely have been more surprised than by the
proposal to obtain fire from his watch.  He handed it
to his cousin with the simple remark, "Please don't
hurt it," and looked on with curiosity.  Robert
examined the convex surface of the crystal, which being
old fashioned, was almost the section of a sphere, and said,

"I think it will do."

Then obtaining some dry, rotten wood from a decayed
tree, he filled the hollow part of the crystal with water,
and setting it upon a support, for the purpose of
keeping the water perfectly steady, showed Harold that
the rays of the sun passing through this temporary
lens, were concentrated as by a sun-glass.  The tinder
smoked, and seemed almost ready to ignite, but did
not quite--the sun's rays were too much aslant at that
hour of the day, and the sky was moreover covered with
a thin film of mist.

"It is a failure," said he, "but still there is another
plan which I have seen adopted--a spark of fire *squeezed
from the air* by suddenly compressing it in a syringe.
If we had a dry reed, the size of this gun barrel, I
would try it by using a tight plug of gun wadding as
a piston."

But Robert had no opportunity for trying his
philosophical experiment, and being mortified by a second
disappointment, as he probably would have been, from
the rudeness of the contrivance; for Harold's voice was
soon heard from the bank above, "I have it now!" and
when Robert approached he saw in his hand a white
flint arrowhead.  With this old Indian relic he showered
a plentiful supply of sparks upon the dry touch-wood,
until a rising smoke proclaimed that the fire had taken.

During the time occupied by these experiments, and
the subsequent cookery, the thin mist in the sky had
given place to several dark rolling clouds, which
promised ere long to give them a shower.  The promise was
kept; for the boys had not proceeded half a mile before
the rain poured down in torrents.  As there was no
lightning, they sought the shelter of a mossy tree, and
for a season were so well protected that they could not
but admire their good fortune.  But their admiration
did not last long; the rain soaked through the dense
masses over head, and fell in heavy drops upon their
caps and shoulders.

"This will never do," cried Harold.  "Come with
me, Robert, and I will provide a shelter that we can
trust."

Putting upon their heads a thick covering of moss,
which hung like a cape as far down as their elbows,
they ran to a fallen pine, and loosened several pieces of
its bark, as long and broad as they could detach, then
placing them upon their heads above the moss, marched
back to the tree, and had the pleasure of seeing the rain
drip from their bark shelters as from the eaves of a
house.  Robert was much pleased with the expedient,
and remarked,

"I suppose this is another of old Torgah's notions."

"O, no," replied Harold.  "I have frequently seen
it used by negroes in the field, and by hunters in the
woods.  But there is another device of a similar kind,
which I will leave you to guess.  I was riding once with
a rough backwoodsman across one of our Alabama
prairies, when we were overtaken by a severe hail-storm,
that gave us an unmerciful pelting.  Now, how do you
suppose he protected himself against the hailstones?"

"Got under his horse," conjectured Robert.  "I once
saw a person sheltering himself under his wagon."

"He took the *saddle* from his horse, and placed it
upon his head.  For my own part, I preferred the
pelting of the stones to the smell of the saddle."

The rain ceasing shortly after, they continued their
walk to the old encampment, which they visited for the
purpose of ascertaining whether there were any other
signs of visitors.  Everything was just as they had left
it, except that it had assumed a desolate and weather-beaten
aspect.  Their flag was flying, and the paper,
though wet, adhering to the staff.  At sea the weather
looked foul, and the surf was rolling angrily upon the
shore.  Resting themselves upon the root of the noble
old oak, and visiting the spring for a drink of cool
water, they once more turned their faces to the prairie.

Whoever will travel extensively through our pine
barrens, will see tracts, varying in extent from a quarter
of an acre to many hundreds of acres, destroyed by the
attacks of a worm.  The path from the old encampment
led through a "deadening," as it is called, of this sort;
in which the trees, having been attacked some years
before, were many of them prostrate, and others
standing only by sufferance of the winds.  By the time our
travellers reached the middle of this dangerous tract,
a sudden squall came up from sea, and roared through
the forest at a terrible rate.  They heard it from afar,
and saw the distant limbs bending, breaking, and
interlocking, while all around them was a wilderness of
slender, brittle trunks, from which they had not time
to escape.  Their situation was appalling.  Death
seemed almost inevitable.  But just as the crash
commenced among the pines, a brilliant idea occurred to the
mind of Robert.

"Here, Harold!" said he.  "Run! run! run!"

Suiting the action to the word, he threw himself flat
beside a large sound log that lay *across the course of
the wind*, and crouched closely beside its curvature;
almost too closely, as he afterwards discovered.  Hardly
had Harold time to follow his example, before an
enormous tree cracked, crashed, and came with a horrible
roar, directly over the place where they lay.  The log
by the side of which they had taken refuge, was buried
several inches in the ground; and when Robert tried to
move, he found that his coat had been caught by a
projecting knot, and partly buried.  The tree which fell
was broken into four parts; two of them resting with
their fractured ends butting each other on the log, while
their other ends rested at ten or twelve feet distance
upon the earth.  For five minutes the winds roared,
and the trees crashed around them; and then the squall
subsided as quickly as it had arisen.

"That was awful," said Robert, rising and looking at
the enormous tree, from whose crushing fall they had
been so happily protected.

"It was, indeed," Harold responded; "and we owe
our lives, under God, to that happy thought of yours.
Where did you obtain it?"

Robert pointed to the other end of the log, and said,
"There."  A small tree had fallen across it, and was
broken, as the larger one had been.  "I saw that," said
he, "just as the wind began to crash among these pines,
and thought that if we laid ourselves where we did, we
should be safe from everything, except straggling limbs,
or flying splinters."

"Really," said Harold, "at this rate you are likely
to beat me in my own province.  I wonder I never
thought of this plan before."

"I had an adventure somewhat like this last year,
only not a quarter so bad," said Robert.  "I was fishing
with Frank, on a small stream, when a whirlwind came
roaring along, with such force as to break off limbs from
several of the trees.  Afraid that we, and particularly
Frank, who was light, might be taken up and carried
away, or else dashed against a tree and seriously hurt, I
made him grasp a sapling, by putting around it both
arms and legs, while I threw my own arms around him
and it together, to hold all tight.  I was badly
frightened at the noise and near approach of the whirlwind,
but for the life of me could not help laughing at an act
of Frank's.  We had taken only a few small catfish
(which he called from their size, *kitten*-fish), and two of
these being the first he had ever caught, he of course
thought much of them.  When the wind came nearest,
and I called to him, 'Hold fast, Frank!'  I saw him
lean his head to one side, looking first at the flying
branches, then at the string of fish, which the wind had
slightly moved, and deliberately letting go his hold of
the tree, he grasped his prize, and held to that with
an air and manner, which said as plainly as an act
could say, 'If you get them, you must take me too.'"





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.. _`XXXVII`:

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   CHAPTER XXXVII

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   LAUNCHING THE BOATS--MORE WORK, AND YET MORE--ECLIPSE
   OF FEB. 12TH, 1831--HEALING BY "FIRST
   INTENTION"--FRANK'S BIRTHDAY--PREPARING FOR A
   VOYAGE--RAIN, RAIN

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The boats came on swimmingly.  By the end of
the second week of their systematic labours they
had not only been sufficiently excavated, but the
young shipwrights had trimmed down much of the
exterior.  They were two and a half feet wide, by twenty
inches deep, and eighteen feet long.  At this stage Robert
supposed the work to be nearly done, but Sam shook
his head, and said, "Not half."  The most laborious
part of the work was over, but so much more remained,
in the way of paring, smoothing, trimming, and bringing
into proper shape, that it was full a fortnight before
they were considered fit for the water.

They were ready for launching on the same day; and
though Robert made his announcement of the fact some
hours in the advance of Harold, it was agreed, that as
Sam had been with him half a day more, the race should
be considered as even.  The launching occupied four
days.  They were distant from the water respectively
an hundred and an hundred and fifty paces.  A thick
forest was to be traversed.  It was necessary to clear a
road, build bridges, and cut down the river bank.
Robert's was launched on February 1st, and Harold's
on February 3d.  On each occasion there was a general
rejoicing, and every person, not excepting Mary and
Frank, fired a salute.

But on being launched the boats did not float to
please them.  One was too heavy at the bows, the other
leaned too much to one side.  Several days were spent
in correcting these irregularities, and thus closed the
fifth week of their labour.

Another week was spent in making the rudders and
a pair of oars, and fitting in the seats and masts.  This
caused them to make another voyage to the wreck, for
the purpose of obtaining planks, screws, and other
materials.  They went, of course, in their boats, and had
the pleasure of seeing them behave admirably.  They
were steady, sat well on the water, and obeyed the oars
and helm almost as well as though they had been built
in a shipyard.

There were two incidents worthy of note occurring
about this time.  One was the discovery, made first by
Frank, of an interesting astronomical phenomenon.
About a quarter before twelve o'clock he had gone to
the water bucket beside the door for a drink of water,
when all at once Mary heard him call out,

"Run here, sister, run!  The sun has turned into a moon!"

He had looked into the water, and seeing the reflected
image of the sun like a half moon, sharply horned, had
strained his eyes by looking up until he ascertained
that the sun itself was of the same shape.  Mary, who
had witnessed an event of the kind before, perceived at
a glance that it was an eclipse.  She therefore took a
basin, and hurried with Frank to the landing, to inform
the others of the fact.

"Look in the *water*, brother," said Frank, whose
eyes were yet watery from the severe trial he had given
them.  "You can't look at the sun without crying."

For a time, of course, no work was done; all were
engaged in watching the phenomenon.  It was the great
annular eclipse of February 12th, 1831, in which the sun
appeared at many places like a narrow ring of light
around the dark body of the moon.  To our young
people there was no ring.  They were too far south.
The sun appeared like the moon when two days old, and
the sky and earth were very gloomy.

The other incident was in itself trivial, and would
not be introduced here but that the fact it illustrates
is sometimes of real importance.  It was simply the
healing of a wound by what is called "*first intention*."  Mary
was engaged in some of her culinary duties, when,
by an unfortunate slip of her hand, the knife which
she was using missed its place, and sliced her finger.
The piece was not cut *off*, but there was a large gash,
and it bled profusely.  Her first act was to wash the
wound well in tepid water until the blood ceased to
flow; then seeing that all the clots were removed, she
brought the lips of the wound together, and kept them
so by a bandage and a little case, like the finger of a
glove made fast to the wrist by a piece of tape.  The
wound soon underwent a process similar to that of
trees in grafting, only far more rapid.  By the next
morning the lips began to adhere, and in the course of
three days the wound was healed--so rapidly will the
flesh of a healthy person recover from a cut if the
conditions necessary to "first intention" are observed,
viz., that the parts be *brought quickly together, and
kept without disturbance*.

The next week was spent in fitting up the sails and
rigging, and preparing the boats, so that in case of
rough weather they could be firmly lashed together.

Their work was now done.  They had been labouring
steadily for a month and a half, and were ready by
Friday evening to pack up and start for home.  But they
resolved to wait and sanctify the Sabbath.  They needed
rest: they were jaded in every limb and muscle.  Moreover,
the next day was Frank's birthday.  Taking everything
into consideration, they preferred to spend that
day in rest and rejoicing, partly in honour of Frank,
but more especially as a sort of thanksgiving for their
successful work.  And as the voyage home promised to
be long, and perhaps perilous, they also determined that
they would devote Monday to trying their boats at sea,
by an outward voyage round the island.

After Frank had retired, the rest agreed upon the
plans by which to make the following day pleasant and
profitable to him.

"I," said Mary, "will make him a birth-day cake."

"And I," said Robert, "will teach him how to shoot
a bird."

"And I," said Harold, "will teach him how to swim."

"And I," said Sam, "will sing him a corn song."

They went to bed and slept soundly.  It is astonishing
how habit can reconcile us to our necessities!  Had these
young people been set down by any accident, a few
months before, in the midst of a lonely prairie,
surrounded by a wild forest, full of bears and panthers,
afar from their friends, and without any other protection
than that which they had long enjoyed, they would
have been miserable.  But they went to sleep that night,
not only free from painful apprehension, but happy--yes,
actually *happy*--when they knew that their nearest
neighbours were treacherous savages, and that they were
surrounded nightly by fierce beasts, from whose devouring
jaws they had already escaped more than once, only
by the blessing of God upon brave hearts and steady
hands.  How came this change?  It was by cheerful
habit.  *The labours, dangers, and exposure of men, had
given them the hearts of men*.  God bless the children!
They slept in the midst of that leafy forest as sweetly
as though they were at home, and the bright stars that
rose by turns to measure out the night, looked down
like so many angel eyes, to watch the place of their
habitation.

Mary and Frank were the first to awake in the morning.
The others, wearied by their long labours, and free
from pressing responsibility, abandoned themselves to a
repose as sweet as it was needful.  Frank moved first,
and his moving awaked Mary, who, on calling to mind
the nature of the day, and the resolutions of the night
before, put her arms affectionately round his neck, and
said, "Good morning, Mr. Eight-years-old; I wish you
many pleasant birthdays."

Frank put his arms round her neck, also, and kissed
her; then both began to dress.  Wishing not to disturb
the sleepers, they slipped softly from the tent.  Mary
went first to the poultry-pen, which she opened.  The
ducks quacked with pleasure at her approach, and she
watched them as they dodged through the narrow hole
opened for their passage, and ran in a long line with
shaking tails and patting feet after the leading drake.
Then she raised the portcullis-like gate for the goats
and deer; Nanny bleated, no doubt intending to say
"good morning," but the unmannerly kid and fawn
pranced away, mindful of nothing but their expected
feast of grass and leaves.

While Mary was engaged with these, Frank went to
look after his own particular pets.  She heard him at
the back of Nanny's pen, where the cubs were kept,
calling out, "Come along, sir!" then he laughed heartily,
but a moment after his voice sounded impatiently,
"Quit it, you Pollux! quit it, sir!" then in a distressed
tone, "Sister, sister, come help me!"  Mary ran to
his assistance, yet she could scarce restrain her risibles
at the sight which greeted her eyes.  Frank had loosed
the cord which confined the cubs, and was leading them
out for the purpose of a romp, when Pollux, who was
a saucy fellow, and knew as well as his young master
what was intended, rose, with a playful growl, upon
his hind legs, and walking behind him, pinioned his arms
close, and began trying to throw him down.  Frank
was much pleased with what he regarded as a cunning
trick in his young scholar; but he soon found that it
was by no means pleasant to be hugged in that way
by a bear.  He tried in vain to break loose, and when
Mary came to his assistance, the bear had thrown him
down, with his face and nose in the dirt.  Frank rose,
looking very much mortified, and more than half angry.

"You ugly beast," he said to the bear, that seemed
amazingly to enjoy the joke, and was rising for another
frolic.  "Get out, sir.  I have a great mind to give you
a beating."

"O, no, Frank," said Mary, "don't be angry with
your playmate.  Remember who taught him to wrestle,
and remember besides that this is your birthday."

Frank's wrath instantly subsided, and jerking down
Pollux by the cord, he led both cubs back to the pen,
where he secured them, and then washed from his face
the traces of his defeat.

Sam had by this time come from his shed-room and
made the fire for breakfast, and Robert and Harold,
awaked by Frank's call for help, dressed themselves and
made their appearance.  They all wished Frank a
pleasant birthday, and hoped he might have as many as
would be for his good.

"Now, Master Frank," said Harold, while they were
sitting together, "what would you have us do for you
today?  We are all your humble servants, and ready
to do whatever we can for your pleasure."

"Then," said Frank, "the first thing I want you to
do, is to carry me right home to father and mother."

"I wish we could, Buddy," said Robert; "but as we
cannot do all that today, you must try to think of
something else."

Frank could think of nothing.  Robert suggested that
he might spend part of his birthday in learning to
shoot.

"But I can shoot now," he replied.  "Sister and I
have shot many times already since we came to the
island."

"I mean," said Robert, "that you should learn to use
a gun, so as to kill whatever you wish."

"O, yes," said Frank, "I should like that very
much.  For who knows but some old bear or panther
may come after sister or me yet, before we get away."

"O, as for bears," Robert maliciously remarked, "I
think you will never need a gun.  I think you will always
find a tree."

Frank's face reddened as he returned, "I don't care
if I did, sir.  Cousin Harold knows that I did exactly
right.  Didn't I, cousin?"

"Pardon me, Frank," Robert implored, "I did not
suppose that you felt so sore about that climbing.  I
only said it to teaze you.  I am sure I should have
done exactly as you did.  But I can't help laughing to
think how your feet *twinkled*, as you climbed that tree."

Robert well knew that this half apology would be
satisfactory.  Frank prided himself on his nimbleness,
being so lithe and active that his playmates used to call
him "squirrel."  The allusion to his "twinkling" feet
restored him to good humour.

"Now, Frank," said Robert, beginning his lecture
with the gun in hand, "the first lesson I wish to teach
you is this, *never let the muzzle of your gun point to
yourself, or to any person*, and never allow any person
to point one towards you.  A gun can never kill where
it does not point.  Even when you are loading, or walking,
be careful to hold it so, that if it should go off it
could hurt nothing."

He then related several stories, illustrating the fact
that almost all accidents from guns are from careless
handling.  Frank was a prudent child.  He listened
attentively, and then replied,

"Brother Robert, I think I had better let the gun
alone till I am older.  May be, if I begin so early, I
shall shoot myself or somebody else."

Robert was pleased with this mark of caution in his
little brother, and said, "Hold on to that, Frank, it is
a remark worthy of your birthday, and I trust that
every return of this day will find you as wise in
proportion to your age."

The further instructions intended for Frank that
day, being of an out-door character, were interrupted by
a rain that commenced about nine o'clock, and held on
steadily all day.  They employed themselves leisurely
in packing and preparing, first for the short voyage
contemplated on Monday, and also for the longer voyage
home.  During the whole day the tent was strewed and
confused with the various bags, boxes, trunks, and kegs,
intended to receive the articles to be carried.  They
looked and felt like travellers on the eve of departure.
About sunset the rain ceased.  The preparations being
now complete, they came together in the tent, and
rested on the sofa.  Sam was missing.  He had not
been seen for half an hour, and now it was getting dark.
Presently they heard a voice ringing musically through
the woods, in the direction of the boat landing, "Join,
oh, join, oh!  Come, boys, we're all here!  Join, oh! join,
oh!"  Frank sprang to his feet, exclaiming, "That
is a corn song!"

The music was very simple, and of the kind that may
be termed persuasive.  It was the song usually sung by
the negroes of one plantation, when inviting those of
the neighbourhood to join them in their
"corn-shuckings."  This practice is much more common in the up
country of Georgia, where the corn crop is large, than
on the seaboard, where the principal attention is given
to cotton.  A corn-shucking frolic among these light
hearted people, is a scene worth witnessing; it is always
held at night, and concluded about midnight with a
feast, and is to the negro what a quilting party is to
country people.

When Frank heard the first stave of Sam's song, he
recalled vividly the merry scenes of the corn-shucking,
and running towards the landing, met him, and returned,
holding him by the hand, and joining in the chorus.

It was late ere they retired to rest.  They began to
realize a tender nearness to the loved ones at home, such
as they had not felt since parting from them.  They
talked long and gratefully over past deliverances and
future hopes; then closed the evening as those should who
wish to find the Sabbath a day of blessing.

The next morning dawned more dark and uncomfortable
than the day preceding.  The whole sky was
loaded with clouds, and the rain fell every minute
through the day.  The young people probably would
have found their time pass away very dismally had it not
been for the pious vivacity of Harold, who laid himself
out to make it agreeable.  He frankly avowed that one
reason why he wished to have them unite with him in
spending the Sabbath aright, was his desire to succeed
in the effort to see their friends that week; and he
referred for authority, to the story told of Sir Matthew
Hale, High Chancellor of England, who advised that,
if there were no higher motive, the Sabbath should be
kept sacred as a matter of *policy*; remarking that, for
his own part, he could almost foretell his success during
the week to come, by the way he spent the Sabbath.

The others, influenced by a variety of considerations,
united with him in this effort, and the day passed off
not only with pleasure, but with profit.  Robert had
always thought in his heart that this story of Sir
Matthew Hale smacked strongly of superstition; but
when he came to reflect that if the Bible is true, of
which he had no doubt, the God who speaks to us now is
the same who spoke to Moses, and who actually prospered
or hindered the children of Israel according to their
observance of the Sabbath, he changed his opinion so
far as this--he resolved for the present to adopt the
advice of that great man, and then to watch whether
the same results were verified in his own case.  And
although his reflections upon this point partook of the
merely philosophic character that, to some extent, marked
the operations of his mind, the course upon which he
resolved had several good effects; it made him realize
more sensibly his practical relation to God, and caused
him to watch more closely the consequences resulting
from the discharge or neglect not only of this particular
duty, but of duty in the general.  That resolution,
apparently so trifling, and expressed to no one, started him
on a perfectly new track, and enabled him to learn, from
his own experience, that "*whoever will watch the providence
of God, will never lack a providence to watch*."

On Monday the weather was worse than before.  They
did indeed go out, well protected by thick boots,
watercoats, and tarpaulin hats, to see after their boats; but
the day was so chilly, as well as wet, that their most
comfortable place was near the fire.  Before sunset,
however, the rain ceased, the clouds rapidly dispersed,
and when the sun flung his last slanting beams across
the earth, Robert pointed to Harold a red spot upon a
cloud, which spread so fast, that soon the whole western
sky was blazing with the promise of a fair morrow.
With this expectation they made every preparation, and
went to bed.





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.. _`XXXVIII`:

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   CHAPTER XXXVIII

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   VOYAGE BOUND THE ISLAND--THE LOST BOAT--STRANGE
   SIGNALS AGAIN--HURRICANE--NIGHT MARCH--HELPLESS
   VESSEL--MELANCHOLY FATE--THE RESCUE--MAROONERS'
   HOSPITALITY--CONCLUSION

.. vspace:: 2

Tuesday morning dawned without a cloud.
Before the stars had ceased shining all hands
were called to work, and by the time the sun
peeped over the eastern marsh, they pushed off from
their landing, Harold and Sam, with Mum, being in
one boat, and Robert, Mary, and Frank, with Fidelle,
in the other.  Rowing slowly down the river, against
a light wind from the south-east, the perfume of yellow
jessamines (gelseminum sempervirens), then in rich
bloom, so loaded the air, that the young people snuffed
up the delicious odours, and looked lovingly at the green
island they were preparing to forsake.

The voyage was made almost without incident.  When
they had passed out to sea, the voyagers were rejoiced
to find their boats behaving as well upon the rough water
as they had already done upon the smooth--they danced
joyously upon the gentle swell, as if congratulating
their young builders in the happy prospect of a
successful voyage.  The boys tried the effect of lashing
them together, and thus verified the expectation of their
safety; they rubbed and creaked a good deal, and moved
less rapidly than when separate, but they sat upon the
water with a steadiness which no ordinary commotion
could disturb.

Running the sea length of the island, and now bending
their course for the north river, Sam sang out, "A
sail!"  Far up the coast a faint white speck appeared,
glancing in the sunbeams, but it soon faded from sight,
and they concluded that either it was a distant sea gull,
or else a vessel passing to the north.  They watched it
with interest so long as it was visible, and then turned
into the river.  Had they suspected what that white
thing was, and that instead of disappearing in the
increasing distance, it was only obscured by a little mist,
as it approached, beating against a head wind, they
would have forsaken river, island, tent, everything, and
sailed joyfully to meet it.

They reached the old encampment at one o'clock,
having made the run of twenty-six miles in six and a
half hours.  The boats behaved so well, and the winds,
sea, and sky were so inviting, that their only regret was,
that they had not put everything aboard and made a
day's voyage homewards.  But doubtless, as Harold
remarked, a kind Providence watched over their path, and
would prove its kindness even in this delay.

Having taken a hasty survey of their old place of
rest and of refuge, and refreshed themselves at the
spring, they resolved to divide their company--Robert's
boat to go direct to the orange landing, where it was to be
left, while the passengers went by land to the tent, and
prepared the provisions for next day; and Harold and
Sam, in the meantime, to continue up the river, and
ascertain whether there was not an inland passage round
the island, shorter and easier than the route by sea.
With this understanding they sailed together to Duck
Point, where Robert turned into the Creek, and putting
Mary at the helm, rowed until they came to the orange
landing, and there moored the boat beside the old raft.
They reached the tent long before sunset, and having
completed the necessary preparations about dark, began
to wish for the return of the others.  Several times
Robert went to the landing to look for them before the
daylight had entirely ceased; and after dark he went again
by the light of the moon, which, being half full, shed her
light at this time of the evening perpendicularly upon
his path.  He was becoming uneasy, when afar off he
heard the mellow sounds of a boat song; the notes grew
more and more distinct; the thump of the oars began to
be heard keeping time to the music; finally, the song
ceased; a clatter was heard as the oars were laid in the
boat; and soon the whole company were together once
more, enjoying the last supper of which they expected to
partake on the island.

"What kept you so long?" inquired Robert.  "Was
the distance great?"

"No," replied Harold, with a look of pleasure; "we
found the distance only about six miles, but we were
detained by missing our way, and more especially by
trying to be sure of a piece of very good news.  I think
we have found the old boat."

"Indeed!" said Robert, starting to his feet, with the
keenness of his delight.  "Where?  How?"

"In the marsh, at the far bend of the river.  I always
thought it had lodged somewhere in that direction, and
therefore kept my eyes open at every little creek and
opening in the marsh.  At last I saw, what I cannot say
positively is *our* boat, but it is a boat of the same colour,
and having a stripe of white and black, like ours.  We
tried until sunset to approach it, but did not succeed
in getting any nearer than at first; it is surrounded
with soft mud, and a wilderness of mangroves."

This was certainly pleasant, though unprofitable,
intelligence.  There was no prospect of their being able to
extricate the boat, except by the help of some uncommon
tide; and its value, though considerable, was nothing
in comparison with the necessity for returning home.
They resolved not to wait for it; on the contrary, that
they would transport to the portage, by means of
Harold's boat, the lading intended for Robert's; then
returning to the prairie, they would take in the second load,
and passing around by the new way, unite at Duck Point,
and sail thence for home.  By rising early they were
sure that they could leave the island by eleven or twelve
o'clock.

While engaged in these plans for the morrow, Sam
came in to say that he was afraid the next day also
would see them on the island, for never in his life had
he seen clouds gather so rapidly, or fly so fast.  The
little company went out, and saw a multitude of low
scudding clouds passing with intense rapidity over the face
of the moon.  Suddenly each one started, and looked
inquisitively into the others' faces, for at that moment the
sound of a cannon, within five miles, came booming from
the coast.  Robert and Mary turned red and pale by
turns.  Frank clapped his hands, exclaiming, "It is
father!  O, I know it is father!"  Harold folded his
arms--he had evidently acquired something of the composure
of the Indian.

"Quick! quick! let us answer it!" cried Robert, and
with the word darted away to the tree where the cannon
powder was kept.  While he was gone there came
another report.  They loaded expeditiously, and in a
moment afterwards the dark woods were illuminated with
the flash, and the earth shaken with the thundering
discharge.

"Now for a march to double quick time!" said Robert,
his strong excitement making him the leader of all that
was done.  "But, sister, what shall we do with you and
Frank?  You cannot keep pace with us.  You had better
stay here with Sam, while Harold and I push on to the
coast, and see who is there."

"Had we not better fire our cannon once more!"
suggested Harold.

"Sam can do it," Robert answered.  "Here, Sam, put
in so much," showing him the quantity, "and fire it until
you are sure they hear you.  But what is that?" he
continued, listening to a loud roar that came from the coast,
and increased like the accumulating rush of waters.

"It is a hurricane," replied Harold.  "There is no use
in trying to go now.  Down with the tent pins! deep! deep! or
we shall have our house blown from above us."

They hastened all to do what could be done for their
immediate protection; but there was little to be done.
Gaining wisdom from their former experience, they had
driven down the pins as far as they could go when the
tent was pitched, and moreover had raised the floor and
trenched the premises.  They could only make the upper
canvas a little more secure, and having done this, they
entered the tent a few seconds before the storm burst
upon them.  It was a terrible repetition of what they
had experienced four months before, when Sam was so
nearly destroyed.

Mary and Frank were in deep distress.  The earnest
impetuosity of Robert, combined with their own thoughts,
had left in their minds no doubt that the guns fired were
from their father; and now, O what a storm to meet him
on his coming a second time to their truly enchanted
island!  Frank cried as if his heart would break.  Mary
buried her face in her hands, and prayed to Him who is
mighty to deliver, even when the winds and the waves
overwhelm.

Harold also was strongly convinced that the guns were
from his uncle, but he knew that this was only conjectural,
and therefore he kindly remarked in the hearing
of the others.

"You have no *certain* reason, Robert, to believe that
those guns are from your father.  But suppose that
they are, then another thing is true, he is in a vessel,
for boats do not usually carry guns.  They were fired
too before the storm came on; therefore they are not
signals of distress, and also they appear to have come from
the river.  Now, if the person who fired them is in a
vessel, and in the river, what is there to fear?  He cannot
get away tonight, and he cannot probably be hurt by the
storm.  Let us be quiet until morning, and then go out
to see who it is."

These thoughts were very comforting.  Mary and
Frank ceased their weeping, and united in the conversation.
They all huddled together in the middle of the
tent.  For hours the wind roared and howled with great
fury, but their tent was protected by the grand wall
of forest trees around, and also by the picket enclosure;
and though the wind made the canvas flutter, it could
neither crush it down nor lift it from above them.  Nor
did the rain which poured in torrents, and was driven
with great violence across the prairie, give them any
particular inconvenience; it was readily shed by the
several thicknesses of canvas overhead, and carried off by
the drainage round the tent.

In the course of an hour, Mary and Frank fell asleep
upon the sofa, and the others took such naps as they could
obtain, while sitting in their chairs, and listening to a
roar of winds so loud, that if twenty cannons had been
fired at the river they could scarcely have been heard.

About midnight the rain ceased, and the wind began
sensibly to abate.  Puff after puff, and roar after roar,
still succeeded each other through the forest; but the
fury of the storm was over.  An hour before day,
Harold shook Robert by the shoulder, and said, "I think we
can start now.  Come and see."

The sky and woods were pitchy dark, little pools of
water covered the ground, and the prairie was rough
with huge branches torn from the trees, and conveyed
to a distance.  These were obstacles and inconveniences,
but not impediments; and as the wind had so far lulled
that it was possible for a torch to live, Robert decided to
make a trial.  He waked Mary and Sam, and announcing
his intention, said to them:

"We wish to reach the old encampment by the time
there is light enough to see over the river.  If possible,
we will return by eight o'clock, and let you know all.
If we are absent longer than that, you may conclude that
we have found something to do; and in that case, you
had better follow us.  We shall, of course, be
somewhere on the river; but as we ourselves do not know
where, you had better go direct to Duck Point, from
which you can see almost all the way to our old spring.
Let me have a piece of white cloth, sister; I will, if
necessary, set up a signal for you on the beach, to tell you
where we are."

Mary was exceedingly unwilling to have them depart.
The darkness looked horrible; their blind path must
now be still more obscured by prostrate trees and fallen
branches; and if they succeeded in reaching the intended
place, they might be called to engage in she knew not
what dangerous enterprise upon water as boisterous as
the sea.  Quelling her anxieties, however, in view of the
necessities of the case, she said:

"Go, but do take care of yourselves.  Remember that
you two are the only protectors, except Sam, for Frank
and me."

The boys promised to run no unnecessary risks, and to
return if possible by the appointed hour.  Taking their
guns, the spy-glass, and a bundle of rich splints of
lightwood, they set out.  Mary watched their figures
gradually diminishing under the illuminated arches of
the forest.  She noticed the dark shadows of the trees
turning upon their bases as pivots, when the torch
passed, until they all pointed towards the tent.  Then
the light began to be intercepted; it was seen by fitful
glares; it ceased to be seen at all; its course was marked
only by a faint reflection from the tree-tops, or from the
misty air; finally every trace of the torch and of its
reflection was lost to sight, and Mary returned, with a
sigh and a prayer, to her seat upon the sofa.

The boys were compelled to watch very carefully the
blazing upon the trees, and what few signs of their path
remained.  There were no stars to guide their course,
and the marks upon the earth were so perfectly obliterated
by the storm, that several times they missed their
way for a few steps, and recovered it with the utmost
difficulty.  It is scarcely possible for the best woodsman
in the world, of a dark night, and after a storm, to
keep a course, or to regain it after it is lost.  The boys
were extremely fortunate in being able to reach the river
by the break of day.

Nothing yet was visible.  The river and marsh looked
like a dark abyss, from which rolled hoarse and angry
murmurs.  They gathered some wet fragments of pine
left by them near the oak, and made a fire, beside which
they sat and talked.  Was there any person in the
river!  Surely it was time to hear some voice or gun, or
to see some answering light.  They would have hallooed,
but there was something oppressive and ominous in the
gloom of that storm-beaten solitude; and, for aught they
knew, their call might come only to the wet ears of the
drowned and the dead.  They waited in painful and
reverential silence.

Gradually the dark rolling water became visible; then
afar off appeared black, solitary things, that proved to
be the tops of mangroves, higher than the rest, around
which had gathered moss and dead twigs of the marsh.
When the light of day more fully developed the scene,
they descried, at the distance of two miles, an object
which the glass revealed to be a small vessel, of the pilot
boat class, dismantled, and on her beam ends.  This
sight filled them with apprehension.

There was no person visible on the side or yards; was
there any one living within?  The companion-way was
closed.  Possibly a gun might cause the persons on board
to give some sign of life.

The boys made ready to shoot, but neither gun could
be discharged.  The powder was wet.  The only leak in
the tent the night before had been directly over the guns,
and the rain had dripped into the barrels.  It was vain
to attempt cleansing them for use; and if they succeeded
in producing a discharge, how could that help the
persons on board?

"No, no," said Robert, "what they want is our boat.
Let us get that, and go immediately to their rescue."

Before leaving the bluff they planted conspicuously a
small pole, in the cleft top of which Robert slipped a
piece of paper, on which was written, "We have gone for
our boat; you will see us as we pass.  Robert."

When they arrived at the orange landing the boat
was floating so far from shore, that without swimming it
could scarcely be reached.  The raft, however, to which
it was moored, was nearer the bank, and Harold managed,
by climbing a slender sapling near the water's edge, and
throwing his weight upon the proper side, to bend it so
that he could drop upon the raft, and from that to enter
the boat.  It was ankle deep with water, and there was no
gourd nor even a paddle with which to bale it.  Robert's
ingenuity devised a plan; he threw into the boat an
armful of moss, which soaked up the water like a sponge,
and lifting this over the gunwale, he squeezed it into
the river.

After a short delay they pushed from shore.  To their
delight, the tide was so high that they could row over
the marsh in a straight line for the river, which was
hardly a mile distant.  On their way the sun burst
through a cloud, and appeared so high as to prove that
the hour of eight was already passed, and that Mary's
company was probably on their way to the point before
them.  The water in the river was dark and rough, from
the action of the neighbouring sea, but undisturbed by
wind.  On reaching it they paused, and hallooed to know
whether the party by land had reached the point;
hearing no answer, they resumed their oars, and crossed to
the other side of the river, where the water was more
smooth.

We will now leave them for awhile, and return to the
company at the tent.  Mary reclined on the sofa, but
could not sleep.  The idea of her father in danger,
perhaps lost in his effort to rescue them, and thoughts of
the perilous night-march of the boys through a dense
forest, and then the nameless adventures into which her
daring cousin and excited brother might be tempted,
haunted her mind until the grey light of morning stole
through the white canvas, and admonished her to rise.
Frank was fast asleep upon the sofa, covered with a
cloak; and Sam's snores sounded long and loud from his
shed-room.  On looking at the watch, which Harold had
left for her convenience, she found that it was nearly
seven o'clock; she did not know that when the sky is
densely covered by clouds, the dawn does not appear
until the sun has nearly reached the horizon.

It was not long after this before a fire was made, and
breakfast ready for the explorers.  Mary employed
herself in every useful way she could devise, until the
slow minute hand measured the hour of eight; then
taking a hasty meal, they set out upon their march.  Sam
led the van with a gun upon his shoulder, and a gourd of
water in his hand.  Mary followed, carrying a basket
of provision for the hungry boys, and Frank went from
one to the other, at will, or lagged behind to watch the
motions of the dogs, that looked thoughtful, as if aware
that something unusual was on hand.

The ground was still quite wet, and they were compelled
to pick their way around little pools and puddles
that lay in their path; but with care they succeeded so
well that they would have reached Duck Point in advance
of the boys, had it not been for a circumstance that
interested them much, while it filled them with gloom.

Nearing the point, the dogs, that had hitherto followed
very demurely behind, pricked up their ears, and trotted
briskly towards the water's side.  Sam noticed this, and
remarked, "Dey after tukkey I 'speck, but we a'n't got
no time fo' tukkey now."  Soon after, their attention
was arrested by hearing a cry from the dogs, which was
neither a bark nor a whine, but a note of distress made
up of both.

"Eh! eh!" said Sam.  "Wat dem dog after now?
Dah no cry for deer, nor for tukkey, nor for squirrel.
Missus, you and Mas Frank stay here one minute, till I
go see w'at dem dog about.  I sho' dey got some'n
strange.  Only harkee how dey talk!"

Sam was in fact fearful that some sad accident had
befallen Robert and Harold, and that the dogs, having
scented them by the light wind coming down the river,
had given utterance to this moan of distress.  He
therefore walked with hurried steps in the direction from
which the sound proceeded, while Mary and Frank,
unwilling to be left alone, followed slowly behind him.
He had not gained more than twenty paces the advance,
when they saw him stop--run a few steps forward--then
stop again, and lift up his hands with an exclamation
of surprise.  They hurried to his side, and found
him gazing, with looks of horror, into a little strip of
bushes that skirted the margin of the tide water.

"What is the matter, Sam?" inquired Mary.

"Look, Missus," he replied, pointing with his finger.
"Enty[#] dat some people drown dey in de ma'sh?"

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   [#] Is not that.

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Mary and Frank looked, and saw what appeared to be
in truth, the bodies of two persons fast locked in each
other's arms, and lodged upon the top of a submerged
mallow, which allowed them to sway back and forth with
the undulations of the water.  Sam was hesitating what
to do--for negroes are almost universally superstitious
about dead people.  Mary urged him on.

"You will not leave them there, will you?" she
inquired; "you will surely draw them out, and see who
they are.  May be, too, they are not dead.  O, get them
out, Sam, get them at once."

Shamed out of his superstitious fear, Sam reluctantly
obeyed the injunction of his mistress.  He waded
carefully and timidly along, until he could lay hold of the
bodies, and drag them to shore.

"W'ite man and nigger, Missus," he said, solemnly,
as the movement through the water revealed the pale
features of the one, and the woolly head of the other.
"De w'ite man, I dun-know[#] who he is, he look like
sailor; and de nigger--"  He had now drawn them
ashore, and examined their features.  It would have
made any one's heart sad to hear the groan that came
from the poor fellow, when he had looked steadily into
the face of the dead man.  He staggered, fell on his
knees in the water, embraced the wet body, and kissed it.

.. vspace:: 2

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   [#] Dun-know, don't know.

.. vspace:: 2

"O my Missus," he cried, "it is Peter! my own brudder
Peter!  De only brudder I got in dis wide wull.  O
Peter--Peter!" and he wept like a child.

"Draw them out, Sam," said Mary, energetically;
"draw them on high ground, and let us rub them as we
rubbed you.  There may be life in them yet."

"No, Missus," he replied, pulling the bodies higher
ashore.  "No life here.  He cold--he stiff--he dead.  O
Peter, my brudder, I glad to meet you once mo'.
Huddee[#] Peter!  Huddee boy!"  The poor fellow actually
shook hands with the corpse, and poured out afresh his
unaffected sorrows.

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   [#] Howdye.

.. vspace:: 2

As soon as the bodies were drawn sufficiently from the
water, Mary proceeded to examine them.  The face of
the white man was unknown to her, he appeared to have
been a respectable sailor.  He and Peter were evidently
stiff dead.  She was so certain they were beyond all hope
of recovery, that she did not even require their clothes
to be unloosed, or any means to be used for their
restoration.  She waited on the mourning brother until the
first burst of his grief was over, then she and Frank aided
him to make a sort of brush wood fence around the bodies,
to protect them until something could be done for their
interment.

It was while they were engaged in this last duty that
Robert and Harold passed the point.  Their halloo
might, under ordinary circumstances, have been heard;
but with their own occupation of mind, the rustle of
bushes dragged along, and the roar of the distant surf,
the voices of the boatmen sounded in vain.

From the point the boys proceeded, it was said, to the
other side of the river, to escape the waves that dashed
heavily against the island.  The whole marsh, from bluff
to bluff, was one flood of water, with the exception of
patches of the more luxuriant herbage that peered above
the rolling surface.  The mangroves, though generally
immersed, broke so completely the violence of the waves,
that the water above and around them, was comparatively
smooth, while in the channel of the river it was too
rough for safety.

Picking their way over the tops of the low bushes, and
around the branching summits of the taller, the boys
rowed steadily towards the unfortunate vessel.  They
had gone not quite half a mile from shore, when they
heard a gun, and looking back, they saw Mary's
company beckoning to them.  It was too late to return,
without great sacrifice of time; and Robert pointed with
one hand to the distant vessel, and with the other to the
place of the old encampment.  These signs were
understood; the company on shore, after looking steadily at
the distant object on the water, disappeared in the woods,
and afterwards re-appeared above the old spring.

The labour of rowing increased as the boat proceeded.
The passage through the marsh became more intricate,
and the swell from sea began to be more sensibly felt
through the irregular openings.  But with the increase
of difficulties came also an increase of energy, as they
approached the vessel.  They were now about a quarter
of a mile distant.  Their hands were sore, and their limbs
weary with rowing.  They tried not to exert themselves
any more vigorously than before, lest they should utterly
exhaust their strength, but they nevertheless observed,
that as they neared the vessel, their boat did somehow
move more rapidly through the water, and crowd with
greater skill through the narrow opening.

As the young boatmen came within hail they would
have called, had they not been restrained by the same
ominous feeling which they experienced on the beach.
With beating hearts they rowed silently around the bow
of the vessel.  The waves dashed heavily against it, and
came up the inclined deck, oftentimes higher than the
companion-way.  They moored the boat to the broken
mast, and then clambering along the pile of sea-weed and
mangroves, which the vessel had collected in drifting,
came at last to the cabin door.  Robert could not say
one word; his heart had risen into his mouth, and he felt
almost ready to faint.

"Hallo!" cried Harold, his own voice husky with
emotion.  "Is anybody within?"

"Thank God!" responded a voice near the cabin door.
It was a female voice, and its familiar tones thrilled to
Harold's very soul.  "Yes, yes, there are three of us
here.  Who is that calling?"

"Harold," he answered, "Harold Mc----."  The
name was not finished.  He reeled as he spoke, and leaned
pale as a sheet against the companion-way.  That voice
was not to be mistaken, little as he expected to hear it
on that dark river.  It was the voice first known to
him, and first loved of all earthly voices.  He tried again
to answer; it was in vain.  He groaned in very anguish
of joy, and the big tears rolled down his face.  Robert
answered for him.

"Harold McIntosh and Robert Gordon.  Who is in here?"

The voice from within did not reply.  It seemed as if
the person to whom it belonged was also overcome by
emotion; for soon after they heard her speak tremulously,

"Brother!  Sister!  Thank God--our boys--are here!"

Robert did not recognize the voice of his aunt, nor did
he understand the speechless look which his cousin turned
upon him, until after two or three violent sobs, Harold
replied to his inquiring look, "My mother!  Robert,
mother!"

Hearing the exclamation from within, Robert had now
recovered from his own torture of suspense, and leaned
down to the cabin-door in time to hear the manly voice
of Dr. Gordon, asking in tones that showed he too was
struggling to command himself,

"My children, are you all well?"

"Yes, father, all well," Robert replied.  He wished
to ask also, "Is mother here?" but his voice again
failed; he fell upon the leaning door, and gave vent to
a passionate flood of tears.  While leaning there he heard
his aunt call out, "Come, help me, brother.  She has
fainted."  But that answer was enough; his mother
was there.

The boys tried in vain to open the door; it was secured
on the inside, and it was not until after some delay
that Dr. Gordon removed not only the bolt, but various
appliances that he had used to keep the water from
dripping into his sister's berth, and gave each a hearty
shake of the hand as they leaned sideways to enter the
door, and clambered in the dark cabin.  Dark, however,
as that cabin was, and insecure as was the footing of
the boys, it was not long before each was locked in his
mother's arms.

Mrs. Gordon was very feeble, and her face much
emaciated with suffering.  She said little more at first than
to ask after Mary and Frank.  This silence alarmed
Robert; he knew that joy is usually loquacious, and he
heard his aunt talking very earnestly with Harold; but
he forgot that his mother was just recovering from a
swoon, and that extreme joy expresses itself differently
in different persons.  His father, seeing him look
anxiously into her pale, thin face, remarked, "She will
recover fast enough, now.  The only medicine she needed
was to meet you all."

"O, yes," she too observed.  "Give me now my dear
Mary and Frank, and I think I shall soon get well."

"We can give them to you in an hour, if you are able
to bear removal," said Robert.  "Is she able, father?"

"Yes, yes, able enough," his father answered.  "And,
I presume, we had better go, before the tide recedes, or
we may be caught in the marsh.  Come, let us load
without delay."

They removed the trunks, and other things needful, to
the boat; the boys relating all the while to their delighted
parents what a beautiful prairie home they had, and how
well it was stocked with every comfort.  "Everything,"
said Robert, "except father and mother; and now we are
taking them there."

The boat was brought close to the vessel's side, and held
there firmly by Dr. Gordon, while the ladies were assisted
by the boys.  And with what pride those mothers leaned
upon those brave and manly sons--grown far more
manly since their exile--may be imagined, but can not
be described.  Mrs. Gordon recovered her vivacity, and
a great portion of her strength, before she left the cabin.
Joy had inspired her heart, and energized her muscles.
Mrs. McIntosh also seemed to grow happier every
moment, as she discovered the mental and moral
developments of her son.  Dr. Gordon, having carefully closed
the companion-way, took the helm, and the boys the
oars, while the mothers, with their faces towards the bow,
looked with eyes of love and admiration upon the young
labourers, who were requiting life for life, and love
for love, what had been bestowed on them in their
infancy.

As they were passing through the marsh, Mrs. Gordon
spied several human figures on a distant bluff.  They
were exceedingly small, but distinctly marked against
the sky.

"Can they be my dear little Mary and Frank?" she asked.

The boys replied that they were, and she waved her
white handkerchief to them, in the hope of attracting
their attention.

The water was still so rough in the channel, that,
anxious as the parents were to embrace their long-lost
children, Dr. Gordon decided that instead of attempting
the passage directly across, in their heavily loaded skiff,
they must continue up the river, through the irregular
openings of the marsh.

They came at last near enough to be discovered by
Mary and Frank, who, seeing the boat load of passengers
going up the river, needed no invitation to meet them
at Duck Point.  The two companies reached the beach
about the same time.  Frank rushed right through the
water, and sprang into his mother's lap; Mary was lifted
into the boat by Robert, who waded back and forth to
bring her; and Sam, though he was saddened by the
melancholy fate of his brother, came with open lips and
shining teeth, to shake hands with Mossa and Missus, as
soon as the children gave him an opportunity.

Here they stopped long enough to allow the hungry
boys to refresh themselves from Mary's basket of
provisions, and Sam's gourd of water.  They were almost
ravenous.  Dr. Gordon then went with Robert overland,
to bring the other boat from the prairie to the
portage, while Harold and Sam conducted the company by
water to the orange landing.  From this latter place
Mrs. McIntosh preferred to walk alone with her son to
the tent, leaving the others to descend the river.

During this part of the voyage, Dr. Gordon first learnt
with certainty the fate of Peter and the sailor.  As soon
therefore as Mrs. Gordon had landed, he left Robert to
support her to the tent, and re-entering the boat with
Sam, went to rescue the bodies from their exposure, and
to prepare them for a decent burial.  It was late in the
afternoon when they returned; and, as the best they
could do with the dead bodies, they left them all night
in the boat, covered with a sail, and pushed a little
distance from the land.

The young housekeepers laid themselves out to entertain
their welcome guests.  Mary provided them with an
early and delightful supper, which was highly seasoned
with love and good will.  Mrs. Gordon and Mrs. McIntosh
reclined on Mary's sofa, the others gathered
round to complete the circle, and the young people gave
snatches of their eventful history.  It was late before
any one thought of retiring.  Then Dr. Gordon called
for a copy of the Scriptures.  He talked of their
separation, their sorrows, dangers, escapes, and now of their
joyful reunion.  After that, he read the ninety-first
Psalm, which speaks of the protection that God promises
to His people, and kneeling down, he offered their united
thanksgiving for all the past, and their united prayer
that the Lord would be their God, and make them His
loving, grateful people.  When they arose from their
knees, every eye was wet with the tears of gratitude
and joy.

The sleeping arrangements for the night were hasty
and scant.  Mary lay between her mother and aunt, for
whom two of the narrow mattresses of the vessel had been
placed side by side, and covered with the bear-skin.
Frank nestled into the bosom of his father, and close
beside him on another mattress lay Robert.  Harold had
chosen the sofa.  After the labours and disturbances of
the past twenty-four hours, sleep came without
invitation.  The moon and stars shone brilliantly overhead,
the air was uncommonly pure, as if washed clean by
the preceding rain, and the leafy forest, which had so
often enclosed in its bosom the young but hopeful exiles,
now murmured all night its soft blessings upon a
reunited family.

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   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

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Having extended this history far beyond the limits
originally intended, it is time to close with a few hurried
words.

Poor Peter was buried the next night by torchlight,
according to the romantic custom prevalent among the
negroes.  Locked indissolubly in each other's arms, he
and the sailor were laid in the same grave, and a double
head and foot-board was sunk to mark the spot.

After much labour, and many dangers and delays (to
recount which would require almost another volume),
they raised and launched their little vessel, recovered
the sail boat, provided suitably for their brute pets,
sailed from the Island of Refuge and arrived safely at
Bellevue, where they had been long expected, and almost
given up for lost.

Before they left, the health of Mrs. Gordon was
rapidly and almost perfectly restored.  Fed from her
children's stores, drinking from their tupelo spring, and
regaled in every sense by the varied productions of that
land of enchantment, but more especially charmed by
her children's love there was nothing more for her to
desire, except the presence of the dear ones left behind.

The joy of beginning their return to Bellevue was,
however, strangely dashed with sorrow, at parting from
scenes tenderly endeared by a thousand associations.  As
they passed down the river, a gentle gale came from
the woods, loaded with the perfume of flowers.  Harold
pointed to his mother the tall magnolia on the river bank,
which had been to him a Bethel (Gen. xviii. 16-19); it
was now in bloom, and two magnificent flowers, almost a
foot in diameter, set like a pair of brilliant eyes near the
top, looked kindly upon him, and seemed to watch him
until he had passed out of sight.  The live oak, under
whose immense shade their tent had been first pitched,
was the last tree they passed; a nonpareil, hidden in the
branches, sat whistling plaintively to its mate; a
mocking bird was on the topmost bough, singing with all its
might a song of endless variety; and underneath a herd
of shy, peeping deer had collected, and looked inquisitively
at the objects moving upon the water.  It seemed
to the young people as if the whole island had centred
itself upon that bluff, to reproach them with ingratitude,
and protest against their departure.  But their resolution
could not now be changed; the prow of their vessel
held on its way.  *The Marooning Party was Over*.

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   THE END

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