RAINY DAY--THE KITCHEN AND FIRE--HUNTING THE OPOSSUM
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."