IN THE DESERTED CABIN
They walked along chatting until they were several miles from Umstadt,
when Pixy stopped and looked intently toward a thicket of tall grass,
giving one of his low growls, a sign of warning. The boys halted, for at
that moment three rough heads were raised from the grass and three pairs
of eyes were gazing intently at the travelers from three faces, which
were not only dark but not entirely clean. The three were about
seventeen years of age, and were apprentices of mechanics out upon a
week's vacation. One was learning to be a butcher, another a blacksmith,
and the third a basket maker. They had been walking all the morning and
had lain down in the cool, tall grass to rest and sleep. They were
rough-looking boys, and the triplets were rather sorry that Pixy's growl
had caused them to rise and look about them.
"So you are three school boys out on your slide!" exclaimed the
blacksmith, eyeing them curiously.
"Slide!" echoed Paul. "How can we slide when it is summer and no ice?"
"Oh, you greenhorns," laughed the boy. "You do not know that 'slide'
means a holiday."
"We have been on our holiday, and are on our way home to go to school."
"School! I should run away from that instead of running to it," remarked
the blacksmith, "no one there learns how to use the hammer and anvil to
make a horse-shoe."
"But he learns other useful things," said Paul.
"What are you going to be when you grow up?"
"A teacher, like my father."
"Bah, a teacher! I suppose it is a great pleasure to cudgel some boy
every day. Oh, what I have endured from teachers is more than I can
tell."
"A good teacher knows how to manage a bad boy without using the cudgel.
It is a weak teacher who knows no other way."
"Oh, just hear our wise one! Let me tell you that your father, great as
you appear to think him, could not manage me."
"No, not now, but if you were a boy under his care you would see that
he would manage you."
"What are you going to be?" he asked of Fritz.
"A clothing merchant, like my father."
"And cheat buyers by selling poor cloth."
"My father is no swindler," cried Fritz.
Franz had stood back; he did not like the looks of the group, but the
roughest looking of the three now put the same question to him.
"A forest-keeper, like my father."
"Then it would be well for you to learn to be a butcher, as I am doing,
so you could kill wild animals and dress them."
"Dress them!" exclaimed the boys in surprise.
"Yes, cut them up for packing, as we do cattle. Do you see this butcher
knife?" and he held it up to view.
The triplets did not like the look of the butcher and his knife. They
were anxious to move on and let the three strangers finish their sleep
in the grass, but this was not the wish of their new acquaintances.
"I will tell you what we will do," said the butcher after the three had
talked a moment in a low tone. "We are not far from a village where we
intend begging food. We will each take one of you boys to help, and when
we reach the end of the village we will divide what we have begged."
"No, we have never done that," cried Fritz. "We will not go from door to
door holding out our hands."
"No, we cannot do that, but we will each give you a nickel," said Paul
quickly, for he noticed frowns upon the faces of the strangers.
"Agreed!" said the three in a breath, and, rising to their feet, they
held out their hands.
Paul and Franz gave out their share immediately, but Fritz fingered so
long that the gold-piece fell out, and was seen by the three pairs of
eyes. Fritz picked it up quickly and replaced it in his purse, and the
three nickels were in the grimy hands of the strangers, who set out for
the village.
"You should not have let that butcher boy see your gold-piece," said
Paul. "We are traveling the same way, and we don't know what they are
planning. The thief in Frankfort got your money out of your pocket with
smooth words, but this butcher boy might take a shorter way."
"Let us lose no time in getting out of their path," advised Franz. "I
believe the better plan would be to take a train home."
"Oh, no!" objected Fritz; "the Trojans would never get done laughing
at us. It is bad enough that we have ridden part of the way, when we
boasted so much of taking the whole trip on foot."
"But Paul is right about that butcher boy. I believe that he would stick
a boy as willingly as he would a calf."
"I will tell you my plan," said Paul. "Those three tramps have taken
the main road; we will take the forest, and walk along where we can see
them, and they cannot see us. Then if they strike off in another
direction we will come out in the road again."
"That is a first-rate plan," said Fritz; "and it will be so cool and
pleasant in the woods."
The boys now took a long look at the apprentices, fearing they would
turn and see them enter the woods; but no, they were passing along
quietly, and the three darted in, and felt that they had escaped a great
misfortune. For a long time they kept the road in sight, then, without
them knowing how, it disappeared from view, although they believed that
they had been keeping a straight course. It seemed to have grown
suddenly dark, and there was the low rumbling of thunder.
"That is the reason that it is growing dark; a storm is coming up,"
remarked Paul. "We must have a place of shelter. Let us hurry to the
road, and it may be that we will see a house or barn."
It was raining fast by this time. It had not occurred to them to take
their rain-coats from their knapsacks, but trudged along in the
downpour, the woods now so dark that they could scarcely see each other.
"I wish I had something to eat," said Fritz. "I am as hungry as a wolf."
"And I," seconded Franz.
"And I," agreed Paul.
"Follow me, and we will soon be out of this dark woods," commanded
Fritz.
The others obeyed, stumbling over stones, tripping over roots, and
running against stumps and briars; but they kept along cheerfully,
believing that they would soon reach the road where it would not be so
dark.
"I wish I had a piece of that cake that Uncle Braun bought for us the
day we went to the tower," remarked Fritz.
"Oh, don't speak of it! It makes me hungrier than ever," said Paul.
"Oh, boys, I see a light, a dim one, but it may be in a house, and the
people will give us something to eat. I told you I would lead you right
if you would follow me."
"If it is a house, and they will give us some straw to sleep on, we will
not try to reach the village where we were to stay all night, for I
believe it is growing late," suggested Paul.
"Oh, we have come to a swamp," cried Fritz. "Halt! my shoes are full of
water. Now one of them has come off, and is sticking in the mud."
"Here it is," said Paul as he pulled it out, "take it and put it on."
"But I can't stand and put it on. What shall I do?"
"You cannot sit down in the swamp, that is certain. Here, Franz, do you
get on one side of him and I on the other and we will hold him up while
he puts it on. Now, Fritz, hurry."
Fritz took his shoe, shook out the water, and tried his best to make it
go on, but without success. His comrades on either side put out a
helping hand, but lost their balance, and all three sat down suddenly in
the swamp.
"Now we are wet in the only place we were dry," exclaimed Paul.
"Yes," comforted Fritz, "but my shoe is on, so it is well that we did
sit down."
"But there was no need for us all to sit down. If you had taken a seat
at first, we could have kept dry."
"But see! the light is still there. Let us hurry. Oh, how glad I am to
know that we will see people."
They soon reached a small, dark cabin, old and dilapidated, yet it was
shelter; and they rejoiced that they had found it. As they neared it,
they smelled the welcome odor of frying sausage.
The only light that came through the one little window was from the
small fire on the hearth and in this dim light the boys saw two figures
bending over the fire, and one by the door, which stood slightly ajar.
Only a few more steps and they were up to the door, and there stood the
butcher-boy with knife in hand. Fritz felt that the knife was already at
his throat. He fell back upon Franz, and Franz upon Paul, and they were
about to flee.
"Here are the three stubborn little tramps that would not beg, but are
willing to eat what we begged. But come in, boys, and keep quiet, or
some prying forester will come along and drive us out in the rain."
The boys drew back, for they were startled and distressed at having run
directly into the lion's claws.
"Come in, you simpletons! Are you afraid that I will kill you?"
"No wonder they are afraid when you are flourishing that big knife,"
said the basket-maker. "Come in, boys. He has it only to cut our meat
and bread. He would not use it on a person because he knows he would
have to suffer for it."
The boys were afraid of them all, but night was coming on, it was
raining, and there seemed nothing else to do, so they stepped in,
followed by Pixy, who had sniffed the odor of sausage.
"Now you can set the table. The sausage is done," said the blacksmith,
and while the butcher shut the door, the basket-maker hung his coat
across the little window to hide the light from outside, and more fuel
was piled on the fire, which soon blazed up and brightened the dingy
place.
A newspaper was placed in the centre of the floor and a large paper bag
was emptied of its contents upon it, a motley mess of bread, brown and
white, scraps of meat, cheese and other things they had begged.
"Now fall to, yellow bills," said the butcher to the triplets. "Your
money bought this sausage, and you have a right to share it," and he
gave them a liberal supply on slices of brown bread.
The boys were hungry and ate heartily, though realizing that they were
beggars and were being entertained by beggars.
"Your dog must have his supper," said the butcher-boy when they had
finished and, putting scraps of bread, meat and other things into the
pan in which the sausage had been fried, he stirred it about and poured
it upon a piece of paper, and Pixy devoured it greedily.
As soon as the supper was finished, the travelers prepared for sleep.
"Let us put on our rain-coats," suggested Paul. "They will help dry our
clothes and keep us warm."
"Why didn't you put them on before it rained?" asked the basket-maker.
"That is like locking the stable after the horse is stolen."
"We never thought of it," responded Fritz. They took the rain-coats from
their knap sacks, put them on and felt immediate comfort; then all lay
down with their feet toward the fire, Pixy close to Fritz.
"I am tired, and could sleep if I were not so thirsty," murmured Paul.
"Well, donkey, there is nothing to hinder you from getting a drink,"
said the rough voice of the butcher-boy. "Go quietly out the door, turn
to the left and there is a spring of good water, which you can scoop up
in your hands. Hurry in and shut the door, or some one of the
forest-keepers will ferret us out."
The boys arose quickly and went out, followed by Pixy. It had stopped
raining, but the woods looked very dark and gloomy.
"Let us run away and leave our knapsacks," said Fritz. "I don't like to
be in the company of such people."
"Nor do I," agreed the other two, and there was a pause for reflection.
"Where could we go?" asked Paul. "We would only get lost again in the
woods."
"But I am afraid of that butcher with his knife," said Fritz.
"That basket-maker would not let him hurt us."
"Are you coming in or not?" asked the rough voice of the butcher-boy at
the door, so they hurried in, and closed the door.
The boys lay near each other for company, and Pixy crept close to Fritz,
who rejoiced that he was with them.
After a time the butcher-boy raised his head and whispered, "Boys, are
you asleep?"
"No," replied Fritz, with a thrill of alarm which almost deprived him of
speech.
"Now keep your mouths shut," was the next whisper. "I hear something
outside."
The boys obeyed, though they longed to cry out, "Come, whoever you are,
and take us out of this miserable place."
There was one of the party who resolved not to obey the command, and
that was Pixy. He, too, heard the noise outside, and sprang against the
door, barking shrilly.
"I will kill that dog if he don't keep quiet," said the butcher-boy in
an angry but subdued tone.
Fritz groped his way to his pet and put his hand over his mouth, but it
was too late. The forest-keeper outside had heard the barking, and
striking his musket upon the door, he asked, "Who's there?"
It was now no use to keep silent and Fritz took it upon himself to
answer.
"Good friend, we are three boys on our holiday journey. We have been to
Frankfort, and are on our way home to Michelstadt."
"Who is in there with you?"
"Three working people who allowed us to take shelter here from the
rain."
The forest-keeper opened the door, struck a light in his lantern and
stepped in.
"What brought you in here?" he asked of the three grown travelers.
"There is no need to ask. You know that it has been raining," replied
the butcher-boy doggedly.
"Yes, but it is not raining now. Go out of here! You might set the cabin
on fire, and then the woods would be ablaze."
The triplets were ready in a moment's time, and eager to go, but not so
the others.
"The fire is out. What is the use of moving on until daylight?"
"Because it is against orders to allow anyone to stay in this cabin.
Wake up your comrade, and all of you leave."
This was a hard task, for the blacksmith was a sound sleeper, but by
dint of calling and pushing they got him partly awake.
"What is it you want?" he said, looking sleepily at the forest-keeper.
"Go out of here. There is no room for you."
"Nor for you! Up, up, and out!"
"Out in the rain? No. I will not go," and he lay down again.
The other two drew him to his feet, and told him that it was the
forest-keeper who was commanding them to leave the cabin.
"But where are we to go?" he asked. "We cannot sleep out in the rain."
"No, you are all to follow me to my house. I can have an eye over you
there, and it will be less of an anxiety than to leave you to yourselves
in this cabin."
They all passed out, the triplets with Pixy keeping close to the
forester and his lantern.