Humphrey was now after something else. He had made several traps, and
brought in rabbits and hares almost every day. He had also made some
bird-traps, and had caught two goldfinches for Alice and Edith, which
they put in the cages he had made for them. But, as we said, Humphrey
was about something else; he was out early in the morning, and in the
evening, when the moon was up, he came home late, long after they had
all gone to bed; but they never knew why, nor would he tell them. A
heavy fall of snow took place, and Humphrey was more out than ever. At
last, about a week after the snow had laid on the ground, one morning
he came in with a hare and rabbit in his hand, and said,
"Edward, I have caught something larger than a hare or a rabbit, and
you must come and help me, and we must take our guns. Jacob, I suppose
your rheumatism is too bad to let you come too?"
"No; I think I can manage. It's the damp that hurts me so much. This
frosty air will do me good, perhaps. I have been much better since the
snow fell. Now, then, let us see what you have caught."
"You will have to walk two miles," said Humphrey, as they went out.
"I can manage it, Humphrey, so lead the way."
Humphrey went on till they came close to a clump of large trees, and
then brought them to a pitfall which he had dug, about six feet wide
and eight feet long, and nine feet deep.
"There's my large trap," said Humphrey, "and see what I have caught in
it."
They looked down into the pit and perceived a young bull in it. Smoker,
who was with him, began to bark furiously at it.
"Now, what are we to do? I don't think it is hurt. Can we get it out?"
said Humphrey.
"No, not very well. If it was a calf, we might; but it is too heavy,
and if we were to get it out alive, we must kill it after ward, so we
had better shoot it at once."
"So I think," replied Humphrey.
"But how did you catch him?" said Edward.
"I read of it in the same book I did about the traps for hares,"
replied Humphrey. "I dug out the pit and covered it with brambles, and
then put snow at the top. This is the thicket that the herd comes to
chiefly in winter time; it is large and dry, and the large trees
shelter it; so that is why I chose this spot. I took a large bundle of
hay, put some on the snow about the pit, and then strewed some more
about in small handfuls, so that the cattle must find it, and pick it
up, which I knew they would be glad to do, now that the snow is on the
ground. And now, you see, I have succeeded."
"Well, Humphrey, you beat us, I will say," said Edward. "Shall I shoot
him?"
"Yes, now that he is looking up."
Edward shot his ball through the forehead of the animal, which fell
dead: but they were then obliged to go home for the pony and cart, and
ropes to get the animal out of the pit, and a hard job they had of it
too; but the pony helped them, and they did get it out at last.
"I will do it easier next time," said Humphrey. "I will make a windlass
as soon as I can, and we will soon hoist out another, like they turn a
bucket of water up from a well."
"It's nice young meat," said Jacob, who was skinning the bull, "not
above eighteen months old, I should think. Had it been a full-grown
one, like that we shot, it must have remained where it was, for we
never could have got it out."
"Yes, Jacob, we should, for I should have gone down and cut it up in
the pit, so that we would have handed it out by bits, if we could not
have managed him whole."
They loaded the cart with the skin and quarters of the animal, and then
drove home.
"This will go far to pay for the gun, Humphrey," said Jacob, "if it
don't pay for more."
"I am glad of it," said Humphrey, "but I hope it will not be the last
which I take."
"That reminds me, Humphrey, of one thing; I think you must come back
with the cart and carry away all the entrails of the beast, and remove
all the blood which is on the snow, for I've observed that cattle are
very scared with the smell and sight of blood. I found that out by once
or twice seeing them come to where I have cut the throat of a stag, and
as soon as they have put their noses down to where the blood was on the
ground, they have put their tails up and galloped away, bellowing at a
terrible rate. Indeed, I've heard say, that if a murder has been
committed in a wood, and you want to find the body, that a herd of
cattle drove into it will serve you better than even a bloodhound."
"Thank you for telling me that, Jacob, for I should never have supposed
it, and I'll tell you what I'll also do; I'll load the cart with fern
litter, and put it at the bottom of the pit, so that if I could get a
heifer or calf worth taking, it may not be hurt by the fall."
"It must have taken you a long while to dig that pit, Humphrey."
"Yes, it did, and as I got deeper the work was harder, and then I had
to carry away all the earth and scatter it about. I was more than a
month about it from the time that I began till it was finished, and I
had a ladder to go up and down by at last, and carried the baskets of
earth up, for it was too deep to throw it out."
"Nothing like patience and perseverance, Humphrey. You've more than I
have."
"I'm sure he has more than I have, or shall ever have, I'm afraid,"
replied Edward.
During this winter, which passed rapidly way very few circumstances of
any consequence occurred. Old Jacob was more or less confined to the
cottage by the rheumatism, and Edward hunted either by himself or
occasionally with Humphrey. Humphrey was fortunate enough to take a
bull and a cow calf in his pitfall, both of them about a year or
fifteen months old, and by a rude invention of his, by way of windlass,
contrived, with the assistance of Edward, to hoist them uninjured out
of the pit. They were put into the yard, and after having been starved
till they were tamed, they followed the example of the heifer and calf,
and became quite tame. These were an important addition to their stock,
as may well be imagined. The only mishap under which they labored was,
old Jacob's confinement to the cottage, which, as the winter advanced,
prevented him from going to Lymington; they could not, therefore, sell
any venison; and Humphrey, by way of experiment, smoked some venison
hams, which he hung up with the others. There was another point on
which they felt anxiety, which was, that Jacob could not cross the
forest to get the puppies which had been promised them, and the time
was passed, for it was now January, when he was to have called for
them. Edward and Humphrey pressed the old man very hard to let one of
them go, but the only answer they could obtain was "that he'd be better
soon." At last, finding that he got worse instead of better, he
consented that Edward should go. He gave directions how to proceed, the
way he was to take, and a description of the keeper's lodge; cautioned
him to call himself by the name of Armitage, and describe himself as
his grandson. Edward promised to obey Jacob's directions, and the next
morning he set off, mounted upon White Billy, with a little money in
his pocket in case he should want it.
"I wish I was going with you," said Humphrey, as he walked by the side
of the pony.
"I wish you were, Humphrey: for my part, I feel as if I were a slave
set at liberty. I do justice to old Jacob's kindness and good will, and
acknowledge how much we are indebted to him; but still to be housed up
here in the forest, never seeing or speaking to any one, shut out from
the world, does not suit Edward Beverley. Our father was a soldier, and
a right good one, and if I were old enough I think even now I should
escape and join the royal party, broken as it may be and by all
accounts is, at this moment. Deer stalking is all very well, but I fly
at higher game."
"I feel the same as you do," replied Humphrey: "but recollect, Edward,
that the old man's very infirm, and what would become of our sisters if
we were to leave them?"
"I know that well, Humphrey--I have no idea of leaving them, you may be
sure; but I wish they were with our relations in safety, and then we
should be free to act."
"Yes, we should, Edward; but recollect that we are not yet men, and
boys of fifteen and thirteen can not do much, although they may wish to
do much."
"It's true that I am only fifteen," replied Edward, "but I am strong
enough, and so are you. I think if I had a fair cut at a man's head I
would make him stagger under it, were he as big as a buffalo. As young
as I have been to the wars, that I know well; and I recollect my father
promising me that I should go with him as soon as I was fifteen."
"What puzzles me," replied Humphrey, "is, the fear that old Jacob has
of our being seen at Lymington."
"Why, what fear is there?"
"I can not tell more than you; in my opinion, the fear is only in his
own imagination. They surely would not hurt us (if we walked about
without arms like other people) because our father had fought for the
king? That they have beheaded some people it is true, but then they
were plotting in the king's favor, or in other ways opposed to
Parliament. This I have gathered from Jacob: but I can not see what we
have to fear if we remain quiet. But now comes the question, Edward,
for Jacob has, I believe, said more to me on one subject than he has to
you. Suppose you were to leave the forest, what would be the first step
which you would take?"
"I should, of course, state who I was, and take possession of my
father's property at Arnwood, which is mine by descent."
"Exactly; so Jacob thinks, and he says that would be your ruin, for the
property is sequestered, as they call it, or forfeited to the
Parliament, in consequence of your father having fought against it on
the king's side. It no longer belongs to you, and you would not be
allowed to take it: on the contrary, you would, in all probability, be
imprisoned, and who knows what might then take place? You see there is
danger."
"Did Jacob say this to you?"
"Yes, he did: he told me he dare not speak to you on the subject, you
were so fiery; and if you heard that the property was confiscated, you
would certainly do some rash act, and that any thing of the kind would
be a pretense for laying hold of you; and then he said that he did not
think that he would live long, for he was weaker every day; and that he
only hoped his life would be spared another year or two, that he might
keep you quiet till better times came. He said that if they supposed
that we were all burned in the house when it was fired, it would give
them a fair opportunity of calling you an impostor and treating you
accordingly, and that there were so many anxious to have a gift of the
property, that you would have thousands of people compassing your
death. He said that your making known yourself and claiming your
property would be the very conduct that your enemies would wish you to
follow, and would be attended with most fatal consequences; for he
said, to prove that you were Edward Beverley, you must declare that I
and your sisters were in the forest with him, and this disclosure would
put the whole family in the power of their bitterest enemies; and what
would become of your sisters, it would be impossible to say, but most
likely they would be put under the charge of some Puritan family who
would have a pleasure in ill-treating and humiliating the daughters of
such a man as Colonel Beverley."
"And why did he not tell me all this?"
"He was afraid to say any thing to you; he thought that you would be so
mad at the idea of this injustice that you would do something rash: and
he said, I pray every night that my otherwise useless life may be
spared; for, were I to die, I know that Edward would quit the forest."
"Never, while my sisters are under my protection," replied Edward;
"were they safe, I would be out of it to-morrow."
"I think, Edward, that there is great truth in what Jacob says; you
could do no good (for they would not restore your property) by making
your seclusion known at present, and you might do a great deal of
harm--'bide your time' is good advice in such troubled times. I
therefore think that I should be very wary if I were you; but I still
think that there is no fear of either you or I going out of the forest,
in our present dresses and under the name of Armitage. No one would
recognize us; you are grown tall and so am I, and we are so tanned and
sunburned with air and exercise, that we do look more like Children of
the Forest than the sons of Colonel Beverley."
"Humphrey, you speak very sensibly, and I agree with you. I am not
quite so fiery as the old man thinks; and if my bosom burns with
indignation, at all events I have sufficient power to conceal my
feelings when it is necessary; I can oppose art to art, if it becomes
requisite, and which, from what you have said, I believe now is really
so. One thing is certain, that while King Charles is a prisoner, as he
now is, and his party dispersed and gone abroad, I can do nothing, and
to make myself known would only be to injure myself and all of us. Keep
quiet, therefore, I certainly shall, and also remain as I am now, under
a false name; but still I must and will mix up with other people and
know what is going on. I am willing to live in this forest and protect
my sisters as long as it is necessary so to do; but although I will
reside here, I will not be confined to the forest altogether."
"That's exactly what I think too, Edward--what I wish myself; but let
us not be too hasty even in this. And now, I will wish you a pleasant
ride; and, Edward, if you can, procure of the keepers some small shot
for me; I much wish to have some."
"I will not forget; good-by, brother."
Humphrey returned home to attend his farmyard, while Edward continued
his journey through the forest. Some estimate of the character of the
two boys may be formed from the above conversation. Edward was
courageous and impetuous hasty in his resolves, but still open to
conviction. Brought up as the heir to the property, he felt, more than
Humphrey could be expected to do, the mortification of being left a
pauper, after such high prospects in his early days: his vindictive
feelings against the opposite party were therefore more keen, and his
spirit mounted more from the conviction under which he labored. His
disposition was naturally warlike, and this disposition had been
fostered by his father when he was a child--still a kinder heart or a
more generous lad never existed.
Humphrey was of a much more subdued and philosophical temperament, not
perhaps so well calculated to lead as to advise; there was great
prudence in him united with courage, but his was a passive courage
rather than an active one--a courage which, if assailed, would defend
itself valiantly, but would be wary and reflective before it would
attack. Humphrey had not that spirit of chivalry possessed by Edward.
He was a younger son, and had to earn, in a way, his own fortune, and
he felt that his inclinations were more for peace than strife.
Moreover, Humphrey had talents which Edward had not--a natural talent
for mechanics, and an inquisitive research into science, as far as his
limited education would permit him. He was more fitted for an engineer
or an agriculturist than for a soldier, although there is no doubt that
he would have made a very brave soldier, if such was to have become his
avocation.
For kindness and generosity of nature he was equal to his brother, and
this was the reason why an angry word never passed between them; for
the question between them was not which should have his way, but which
should give up most to the wishes of the other. We hardly need say,
that there never were two brothers who were more attached, and who so
mutually respected each other.