FRED’S SAND-BIRD PIE.
The next morning, having despatched their breakfast, they sat down
under a tree, which, being on high ground, afforded a good position
from which to judge of the weather. The question as to how they should
spend the day, came up.
“It’s going to be a splendid day,” said Fred; “and I, for one, will
tell you what I should like to do. You know I like those scrapes where
there’s something good to eat.”
“I should think so,” replied Charlie, “according to what I saw you eat
last evening.”
“Did either of you ever eat any sand-birds?”
“We never did.”
“You never tasted anything half so good as a sand-bird pie; I always
calculate to have a real tuckout once a year on sand-birds. Mother
takes the biggest dish in the house and bakes a smashing great pie.”
“Let’s go,” said John. “Where’s the place?”
“You know where Sandy Point is?”
“I hope so.”
“Well, right close to it, there’s a lot of little ledges; some of them
ain’t bigger at high water than a table; some not so big; just a little
speck in the water.”
“I know; I’ve been there many a time to shoot brants.”
“These sand-birds feed on the shore till they are chock brimful, and
the tide comes and drives them off; then they fly on to these ledges;
but they are as afraid of getting wet as a cat; and when the tide comes
up around the rock, they huddle together to keep out of the water, till
they are all in a bunch, and the rock looks blue with them; it’s the
greatest chance for a shot; but,” continued he, after a pause, “perhaps
Mrs. Rhines wouldn’t want the trouble of making it.”
“Yes, she would,” replied Charlie; “she and father would like it as
well as we. I’ll go and ask her.” He ran to the house, and came back,
saying she would make it, if they would dress the birds.
“I,” said John, “should like to go to some strange place, where we
never have been. I heard Joe Griffin and Henry telling about a place;
they said it was eight or nine miles to the eastward of Birch Point,
where nobody lives. They said there were great hills of strange-looking
rocks, with a flat between them, and a brook running through it; that
the Indians used to live there; and you could see the stones where they
made their fires, and find arrow-heads, and Indian things that were
buried there; and Uncle Isaac knew where; that somewhere along the side
of the brook there was red paint, as good as ever was, and that Uncle
Isaac had a room painted with it; that there were partridges there,
and way back was a pond, that the brook ran out of, with pickerel in
it. Joe said the way to tell it was, right off the mouth of the cove
there was a great, high rock, that came up out of the water, with three
spruces on the top of it, and a little turf, but the sides were all
bare; and he said there were reefs and breakers all round it; but I’ll
bet, if we could find it, we could see the reefs break, and keep clear
of them.”
“I say, go!” said Charlie; “I do want the red paint so much! I want to
paint my canoe. I can buy black paint, and there’ll be two colors; and
I want to see the Indian things.”
“I want to shoot partridges,” said John, “catch pickerel, see the
place, and get some paint to paint my cart, and some things for
mother.”
“I want to paint a box I’ve got, that I keep my things in,” said Fred.
“I’ll give up the sand-bird pie; let’s go!”
“It’s flood tide,” said John; “we can do both. Let us go and get the
birds, have our pie, and then go and camp out at the other.”
They took their guns and a luncheon, and were soon on their way. By
Fred’s direction they landed a little way from the point, from which
three of the rocks were distant but half a gun-shot, being, indeed,
connected with the point at low water, the extremity of which was
fringed with low bushes, through which they crawled in different
directions, when they found that the rocks were as Fred had said--blue
with birds. It was arranged that Fred should caw like a crow in
succession; at the first summons they were to get ready; at the second,
Charlie and John were to fire; but Fred was to fire as they rose.
At the signal the guns were discharged, and the rock was covered with
dead and wounded; as they rose in a thick cloud, Fred fired, when many
more fell--some on the rock, but most of them in the water. These Tige
instantly began to bring ashore, and lay down at John’s feet.
“We’ve killed half a bushel!” cried Fred; “didn’t I tell you this was
the place?”
“We can never eat a quarter part of these,” said John.
“Never mind; let us carry every one of them to the island; it is cool
weather; they will keep till you and I go home, and then we can get
our mothers to make us another pie, to remember this holiday by; and
Charlie and his folks can have another pie after we are gone.”
“Now for home and the Indians’ place,” said Charlie.
They took to their oars, and rowing with a good will, reached the
island some time before noon. The instant the canoe touched the beach
Charlie leaped from it, and, rushing into the house, bawled out,
“Mother, put on the pot! They’re coming with the birds! O, lashings of
them! I’ll make a fire!” and ran for the wood-pile. Charlie crammed the
brush under the pot to heat water to scald the birds, that they might
pick them the faster.
John and Fred now came in with the lower button of their jackets
buttoned up, and their bosoms, pockets, arms, and hats full of dead
birds. They unloaded on the middle of the hearth, and went back for
more.
“Boys,” asked Sally, “have you eaten your luncheon?”
No; they couldn’t stop; forgot it.
“Then eat it now, and have your dinner on the birds.”
“Yes,” said Charlie; “and then start off to camp out.”
The boys ate their luncheon while the water was heating, and then began
to pick and dress the birds; and, when Ben came in, he helped them.
When prepared, they looked like balls of butter, they were so covered
with yellow fat.
While the pie was baking, John began to show the boys how Tige would
fetch and carry, and give any one his paw to shake, and dive to bring
up things from the bottom.
“You didn’t know I had a dog--did you?” asked Charlie.
“Yes,” replied John; “Sailor.”
“No; one as big as three of him.”
Charlie had been so much occupied with the boys, that he had forgotten
all about the pig, and had not seen him for almost a week. But the pig
was not at all concerned about the matter, as the woods were full of
acorns and beech-nuts, and he was enjoying himself very much to his own
satisfaction.
Charlie now went to the edge of the woods, and called, “Rover! Rover!”
when down came the pig from the woods, and, jumping upon Charlie, put
his fore feet in his lap, and rubbing his nose against him, seemed full
as glad to see him as Tige ever was to see John. Charlie then put some
acorns in his pocket, and the pig took them out with his nose; then he
held up a stick, and told him to jump, and over it he jumped.
“Now, Rover,” said he, pointing to the beach, “go get a clam.”
In a moment he ran to the beach, rooted up a clam with his nose, and
brought it to his master. The boys were full of amazement to see a pig
do such things.
“Will he bring birds ashore?” asked John.
“No; he won’t go near the water, except a mud puddle; he’s afraid of
the water. A hog can’t swim much more than a hen; but I tell you what
he will do, he’ll haul the baby in a cart.”
Charlie had made a cart, with arms to it, for the baby, and a harness
of canvas for Rover; so he harnessed up the pig, who drew the baby all
along the green between the house and the water.
“Tige will do that,” said John.
They took out the pig, and put in Tige, who walked off as careful as
could be.
“Let’s have a strong team,” said Fred; “let’s put them both in, one
before the other.”
As Tige didn’t seem very fond of the pig, and had shown some
disposition to bite him, it was not thought safe to trust him behind;
so they got some ropes, and traced him up forward. While they were
drawing the baby in great style along the edge of the beach, Ben was
hiding behind a rock on the White Bull, trying to get a shot at some
sea-ducks; at length he fired, killing four of them. Tige looked up
at the report, and seeing the dead birds floating on the water, ran
with all his might down hill into the cove, dragging pig, baby, and
all after him, at a break-neck pace, into the sea. Charlie, leaping
into the water, caught at the child, but, missing it, grasped one
wheel, which upset the cart in an instant, pitching the screaming child
into the water, from which it was instantly rescued by Charlie, who,
however, had to swim for it. Meanwhile Tige, utterly regardless of the
commotion he was causing, or to how great an extent he was injuring
his previous high reputation, swam steadily along, dragging the
half-drowned pig after him, till he got among the birds, when, taking
one in his mouth, he swam to the White Bull; where Ben, who had watched
the whole proceeding, relieved him from the harness, when he swam off
and brought in the remainder. By this time John and Fred had arrived in
the canoe. The pig lay on the beach apparently almost dead.
“I guess he’ll die,” said Fred. “How bad Charlie will feel!”
They put him, together with the cart, into the canoe, and took him to
the cove, where they laid him carefully on the grass.
Charlie, meanwhile, had gone to the house with the baby.
“Well,” said Sally, as she received the screaming, dripping child, “I’m
sure I don’t know what this child is born for; it’s not six months old,
and has been almost burned to death, and drowned.”
When Charlie returned, and saw Rover in such a condition, he came very
near bursting into tears; he knelt down by him, wiped the froth away
from his mouth, and rubbed him, calling him good Rover; but piggy gave
no signs of life, except it could be perceived he breathed.
Ben now came over from the White Bull in his canoe.
“Father,” cried Charlie, “do come here; Rover is going to die; can’t
you help him?”
“The first thing,” said Ben, after looking at him, “is to get the water
out of him.”
“In England, when people are most drowned, they roll them on a barrel;
shall I get one?”
“I guess I can get it out easier than that,” said Ben; and, taking the
pig by the hind legs, he held him up clear from the ground, when the
water he had taken in ran out of his nose in a stream. When he put him
down the pig gave a grunt.
“He’s coming to!” cried Charlie; and in a few moments more the pig got
up on his fore legs, but fell back again.
“He’ll do well enough now; he’s only weak.”
Charlie took his head in his lap and patted him, when the pig gave
three or four loud grunts, and got up on his feet. Just then Sally
called from the door that dinner was ready.
“I’m ready to eat it, or do anything else,” said Charlie, “now that
baby is not drowned, and Rover has come to.”
In consequence of all this Tige was somewhat in disgrace.
“You naughty dog,” said John to him, “do you know what you’ve done?
almost drowned Charlie’s pig and the baby; I shouldn’t have thought
that of you. What do you suppose folks would say, if it should go all
over town what you have done?”
But so far from manifesting any contrition, Tige, all the time his
master was talking to him, kept wagging his tail, and looking him in
the face.
“You must not throw a person away for one mistake,” said Ben. “Tige has
been trained from childhood to feel, that to get birds when they are
shot is the great duty of his life.”
“Well, Fred,” said Sally (when the pie had come upon the table, and he
had despatched the first plateful), “what do you think of my pie?”
“Tongue cannot tell,” he replied, holding out his plate for more.
“I think,” said Ben, “it is about the best mess I ever tasted; I mean
to have one every year after this.”
“Wouldn’t father like this?” asked John: “when he gets home we’ll have
some.”