IN WHICH HARRY KILLS A BIG SNAKE, AND MAKES A NEW FRIEND
Harry was not entirely satisfied with what he had done. He regretted
the necessity which had compelled him to take George Leman's horse. It
looked too much like stealing; and his awakened moral sense repelled
the idea of such a crime. But they could not accuse him of stealing
the horse; for his last act would repudiate the idea.
His great resolution to become a good and true man was by no means
forgotten. It is true, at the very outset of the new life he had
marked out for himself, he had been obliged to behave like a young
ruffian, or be restored to his exacting guardians. It was rather a bad
beginning; but he had taken what had appeared to him the only course.
Was it right for him to run away? On the solution of this problem
depended the moral character of the subsequent acts. If it was right
for him to run away, why, of course it was right for him to resist
those who attempted to restore him to Jacob Wire.
Harry made up his mind that it was right for him to run away, under
the circumstances. His new master had been charged to break him
down--even to starve him down. Jacob's reputation as a mean and hard
man was well merited; and it was his duty to leave without stopping to
say good by.
I do not think that Harry was wholly in the right, though I dare say
all my young readers will sympathize with the stout-hearted little
hero. So far, Jacob Wire had done him no harm. He had suffered no
hardship at his hands. All his misery was in the future; and if he had
stayed, perhaps his master might have done well by him, though it is
not probable. Still, I think Harry was in some sense justifiable. To
remain in such a place was to cramp his soul, as well as pinch his
body--to be unhappy, if not positively miserable. He might have tried
the place, and when he found it could not be endured, fled from it.
It must be remembered that Harry was a pauper and an orphan. He had
not had the benefit of parental instruction. It was not from the home
of those whom God had appointed to be his guardians and protectors
that he had fled; it was from one who regarded him, not as a rational
being, possessed of an immortal soul--one for whose moral, mental, and
spiritual welfare he was accountable before God--that he had run away,
but from one who considered him as a mere machine, from which it was
his only interest to get as much work at as little cost as possible.
He fled from a taskmaster, not from one who was in any just sense a
guardian.
Harry did not reason out all this; he only felt it. What was Jacob
Wire to him? What was even Squire Walker to him? What did they care
about his true welfare? Nothing. Harry so understood it, and acted
accordingly.
The future was full of trials and difficulties. But his heart was
stout; and the events of the last chapter inspired him with confidence
in his own abilities. He entered the dark woods, and paused to rest
himself. What should he do next?
While he was discussing this question in his own mind he heard the
sound of voices on the road, which was not more than fifty rods
distant. It was George Leman and Jacob Wire. In a few minutes he heard
the sound of wagon wheels; and soon had the satisfaction of knowing
that his pursuers had abandoned the chase and were returning home.
The little fugitive was very tired and very sleepy. It was not
possible for him to continue his journey, and he looked about him for
a place in which to lodge. The night was chilly and damp; and as he
sat upon the rock, he shivered with cold. It would be impossible to
sleep on the wet ground; and if he could, it might cost him his life.
It was a pine forest; and there were no leaves on the ground, so that
he could not make such a bed as that in which he had slept the
previous night.
He was so cold that he was obliged to move about to get warm. It
occurred to him that he might get into some barn in the vicinity, and
nestle comfortably in the hay; but the risk of being discovered was
too great, and he directed his steps towards the depths of the forest.
After walking some distance, he came to an open place in the woods.
The character of the growth had changed, and the ground was covered
with young maples, walnuts and oaks. The wood had been recently cut
off over a large area, but there were no leaves of which he could make
a bed.
Fortune favored him, however; for, after advancing half way across the
open space he reached one of those cabins erected for the use of men
employed to watch coal pits. It was made of board slabs, and covered
with sods. Near it was the circular place on which the coal pit had
burned.
At the time of which I write, charcoal was carried to Boston from many
towns within thirty miles of the city. Perhaps my young readers may
never have seen a coal pit. The wood is set up on the ends of the
sticks, till a circular pile from ten to twenty feet in diameter is
formed and two tiers in height. Its shape is that of a cone, or a
sugar loaf. It is then covered with turf and soil. Fire is
communicated to the wood, so that it shall smoulder, or burn slowly,
without blazing. Just enough air is admitted to the pit to keep the
fire alive. If the air were freely admitted the pile would burn to
ashes. Sometimes the outer covering of dirt and sods falls in, as the
wood shrinks permitting the air to rush in and fan the fire to a
blaze. When this occurs, the aperture must be closed, or the wood
would be consumed; and it is necessary to watch it day and night. The
cabin had been built for the comfort of the men who did this duty.
Harry's heart was filled with gratitude when he discovered the rude
hut. If it had been a palace, it could not have been a more welcome
retreat. It is true the stormy wind had broken down the door, and the
place was no better than a squirrel hole; yet it suggested a thousand
brilliant ideas of comfort, and luxury even, to our worn-out and
hunted fugitive.
He entered the cabin. The floor was covered with straw, which
completed his ideal of a luxurious abode. Raising up the door, which
had fallen to the ground, he placed it before the aperture--thus
excluding the cold air from his chamber.
"I'm a lucky fellow," exclaimed Harry, as he threw himself on the
straw. "This place will be a palace beside Jacob Wire's house. And I
can stay here a month, if I like."
Nestling closely under the side of the hut, he pulled the straw over
him, and soon began to feel perfectly at home. Only one consideration
troubled him. The commissary department of the establishment could not
be relied on. There were no pork and potatoes in the house, no
well-filled grain chest, no groceries, not even a rill of pure water
at hand. This was an unpromising state of things; and he began to see
that there would be no fun in living in the woods, where the butcher
and the baker would not be likely to visit him.
Various means of supplying the deficiency suggested themselves. There
were rabbits, partridges, and quails in the woods; he might set a
snare, and catch some of them. But he had no fire to cook them; and
Dr. Kane had not then demonstrated the healthy and appetizing
qualities of raw meat. The orchards in the neighborhood were
accessible; but prudence seemed to raise an impassable barrier between
him and them.
While he was thus considering these matters, he dropped asleep, and
forgot all about his stomach. He was completely exhausted; and no
doubt the owls and bats were astonished as they listened to the
sonorous sounds that came from the deserted cabin.
Long and deep was his sleep. The birds sang their mating songs on the
tree tops; but he heard them not. The sun rose, and penetrated the
chinks of the hut; but the little wanderer still slumbered. The
Rockville clock struck nine; and he heard it not.
I think it was Harry's grumbling stomach that finally waked him; and
it was no wonder that neglected organ grew impatient under the injury
put upon it, for Harry had eaten little or nothing since his dinner at
the poorhouse on the preceding day.
Jumping out of the heap of straw in which he had "cuddled" all night
scarcely without moving, he left the hut to reconnoitre his position.
So far as security was concerned, it seemed to be a perfectly safe
place. He could see nothing of the village of Rockville, though,
beyond the open space, he saw the top of a chimney; but it was at
least half a mile distant.
Just then he did not feel much interested in the scenery and natural
advantages of the position. His stomach was imperative, and he was
faint from the want of food. There was nothing in the woods to eat.
Berry time was past; and the prospect of supplying his wants was very
discouraging. Leaving the cabin, he walked towards the distant chimney
that peered above the tree tops. It belonged to a house that "was set
on a hill, and could not be hid."
After going a little way, he came to a cart path, which led towards
the house. This he followed, descending a hill into a swamp, which was
covered over with alders and birches. At the foot of the declivity he
heard the rippling of waters; but the bushes concealed the stream from
his view.
He had descended nearly to the foot of the hill when the sound of
footsteps reached his ears. His heart beat quick with apprehension,
and he paused to listen. The step was soft and light; it was not a
man's, and his courage rose. Pat, pat, pat, went the steps on the
leafy ground, so gently that his fears were conquered; for the person
could be only a child.
Suddenly a piercing shriek saluted his ears. Something had occurred to
alarm the owner of the fairy feet which made the soft pat, pat, on the
ground. Another shriek, and Harry bounded down the road like an
antelope, heedless of the remonstrances of his grumbling stomach.
"Mercy! help!" shouted a voice, which Harry perceived was that of a
little girl.
In a moment more he discovered the young lady running with all her
might towards him.
"Save me!" gasped the girl.
"What is the matter?"
But Harry had scarcely asked the question before he saw what had
alarmed her. Under other circumstances he would have quailed himself;
for, as he spoke, a great black snake raised his head two or three
feet from the ground directly in front of him. He was an ugly-looking
monster, and evidently intended to attack him. All the chivalry of
Harry's nature was called up to meet the emergency of the occasion.
Seizing a little stick that lay in the path, he struck sundry
vigorous blows at the reptile, which, however, seemed only to madden,
without disabling him. Several times he elevated his head from the
ground to strike at his assailant; but the little knight was an old
hand with snakes, and vigorously repelled his assaults. At last, he
struck a blow which laid out his snakeship; and the field was won,
when Harry had smashed his head with a large rock. The reptile was
about four feet and a half long, and as big round as a small boy's
wrist.
"There, miss, he won't hurt you now," said Harry, panting with his
exertions.
"Won't he? Are you sure he is dead?"
"Very sure."
The little girl ventured to approach the dead body of the snake, and
satisfied herself that he could not harm her.
"What an ugly snake! I was crossing the brook at the foot of the hill,
when he sprang out from beneath my feet and chased me. I never was so
frightened in all my life," said the little miss.
"I don't wonder," replied Harry.
"I am very much obliged to you. What is your name?" asked she, with
childish simplicity.
Harry did not like to answer that question, and made no reply.
"Do you live in Rockville?" she continued.
"No; I used to live in Redfield."
"Where do you live now?"
"I don't live anywhere."
The little girl wanted to laugh then, it seemed such a funny answer.
"Don't you? Who is your father?"
"I have no father."
"Who is your mother, then?"
"I have no mother."
"Poor boy! Then you are an orphan."
"I suppose so. But, little girl, I don't want you to tell any one that
you have seen me. You won't--will you?"
"Not father and mother?" asked the maiden, with a stare of
astonishment.
"If you please, don't. I am a poor boy, and have run away from a hard
master."
"I won't tell anybody."
"And I am very hungry."
"Poor boy! How lucky that I have lots of goodies in my basket!"
exclaimed she. "You shall eat all you can."
"I haven't eat anything since yesterday noon," replied Harry, as he
took a handful of doughnuts she handed him.
"Sit down on this rock, and do eat all you want. I never knew what it
was to be very hungry."
Harry seated himself, and proceeded to devour the food the
sympathizing little maiden had given him, while she looked on with
astonishment and delight as he voraciously consumed cake after cake,
without seeming to produce any effect upon the "abhorred vacuum."