They found the raft as they had left it, except that petals of the
may-bloom, shaken from the hawthorn bushes by the breeze, as they came
floating down the stream had lodged against the vessel like a white line
on the water. Already, too, the roach, which love a broad shadow to
play about its edge, had come underneath, but when they felt the shaking
of the bank from the footsteps turned aside, and let the current drift
them down. Bevis fetched his hatchet from the Peninsula and began to
hack at the willow; Mark, not without some difficulty, got leave to
climb into the raft, and sit in the centre. The chips flew, some fell
on the grass, some splashed into the brook; Bevis made a broad notch
just as he had seen the men do it; and though his arm was slender, the
fire behind it drove the edge of the steel into the wood. The willow
shook, and its branches, which touched the water, ruffled the surface.
But though the trunk was hollow it was a long way through, and when
Bevis began to tire he had only cut in about three inches. Then Mark
had to work, but before he had given ten strokes Bevis said it was of no
use chopping, they could never do it, they must get the grub-axe. So
they went back to the house, and carried the ungainly tool down to the
tree.
It was too cumbrous for them, they pocked up a little turf, and just
disturbed the earth, and then threw the clumsy thing on the grass. Next
they thought of the great saw--the cross-cut--the men used, one at each
end, to saw though timber; but that was out of their reach, purposely
put up high in the workshop, so that they should not meddle with it or
cut themselves with its terrible teeth.
“I know,” said Mark, “we must make a fire, and burn the tree; we are
savages, you know, and that is how they do it.”
“How silly you are!” said Bevis. “We are _not_ savages, and I shall not
play at that. We have just discovered this river, and we are going down
it on our raft; and if we do not reach some place to-night and build a
fort, very likely the savages will shoot us. I believe I heard one
shouting just now; there was something rustled, I am sure, in the
forest.”
He pointed at the thick double-mound hedge about a hundred yards
distant.
“What river is it?” said Mark. “Is it the Amazon, or the Congo, or the
Yellow River, or the Nile--”
“It is the Mississippi, of course,” said Bevis, quite decided and at
ease as to that point. “Can’t you see that piece of weed there. My
papa says that weed came from America, so I am sure it is the
Mississippi, and nobody has ever floated down it before, and there’s no
one that can read within a thousand miles.”
“Then what shall we do?”
“O, there’s always something you can do. If we could only get a beaver
now to nibble through it. There’s always something you can do. I
know,” and Bevis jumped up delighted at his idea, “we can bore a hole,
and blow it up with gunpowder!”
“Lot us fetch an auger,” said Mark. “The gimlet is not big enough.”
“Be quick,” said Bevis. “Run back to the settlement, and get the auger;
I will mind the raft and keep off the savages; and, I say, bring a spear
and the cutlass; and--I say--”
But Mark was too far, and in too much of a hurry to hear a word. Bevis,
tired of chopping, rolled over on his back on the grass, looking up at
the sky. The buttercups rose high above his head, the wind blew and
cooled his heated forehead, and a humble-bee hummed along: borne by the
breeze from the grass there came the sweet scent of green things growing
in the sunshine. Far up he saw the swallows climbing in the air; they
climbed a good way almost straight up, and then suddenly came slanting
down again.
While he lay there he distinctly heard the Indians rustling again in the
forest. He raised himself on one arm, but could not see them; then
recollecting that he must try to conceal himself, he reclined again, and
thought how he should be able to repel an attack without weapons. There
was the little hatchet, he could snatch up that and defend himself.
Perhaps they would sink the raft? Perhaps when Mark returned they had
better tow it back up stream, and draw it ashore safely at home, and
then return to the work of clearing the obstruction. As he lay with his
knees up among the buttercups he heard the thump, thump of Mark’s feet
rushing down the hill in eager haste with the auger. So he sat up, and
beckoned to him to be quiet, and explained to him when he arrived that
the Indians were certainly about. They must tow the raft back to the
drinking-place. Bevis untied the cord with which the raft was fastened
to the willow, and stepped on board.
“Don’t pull too quick,” he said to Mark, giving him the cord; “or
perhaps I shall run aground.”
“But you floated down,” said Mark. “Let me get in, and you tow; it’s my
turn.”
“Your turn?” shouted Bevis, standing up as straight as a bolt. “This is
_my_ raft.”
“But you always have everything, and you floated down, and I have not;
you have everything, and--”
“You are a great story,” said Bevis, stamping so that the raft shook and
the ripples rushed from under it. “I don’t have everything, and you
have more than half; and I gave you my engine and that box of gun-caps
yesterday; and I hate you, and you are a big story.”
Out he scrambled, and seizing Mark by the shoulders, thrust him towards
the raft with such force that it was with difficulty Mark saved himself
from falling into the brook. He clung to the willow--the bark gave way
under his fingers--but as he slipped, he slung himself over the raft and
dropped on it.
“Take the pole,” said Bevis, still very angry, and looking black as
thunder. “Take the pole, and steer so as not to run in the mud, and not
to hit against the bank. Now then,” and putting the cord over his
shoulder, off he started.
Mark had as much as ever he could do to keep the raft from striking one
side or the other.
“Please don’t go so fast,” he said.
Bevis went slower, and towed steadily in silence. After they had passed
the hawthorn under the may-bloom, Mark said, “Bevis,” but Bevis did not
answer.
“Bevis,” repeated Mark, “I have had enough now; stop, and you get in.”
“I shall not,” said Bevis. “You are a great story.”