PLANS--VISIT TO THE PRAIRIE--DISCOVERIES--SHOE MAKING--WATERFOWL
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."
[#] What is going to hurt me?
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.