THE SUGAR-BUSH AND THE BEAR.
The winter days went swiftly on, with constant repetitions of chess and
fireside comfort in evenings, and snowballing, skating, sleigh-rides,
and other fun whenever the circumstances permitted. There were frequent
and long letters from the South, and other and shorter letters from the
city. A pretty steady comparison of climates could be made from time to
time, and there was no small interest in that. Susie and Port became as
well known in Benton Village as if they had been residents, and at least
a dozen of the young ladies they knew had learned to skate. Old Miss
Turner, the dressmaker, tried it; but she told her friends that she tore
her dress and spoiled her bonnet for nothing, and she wouldn't bump the
back of her head in that way any more.
"Aunt Sarah!" suddenly exclaimed Susie one afternoon, when she had just
finished reading a letter from Florida, "mother says she is as well as
ever, and that, now spring is coming"--
"Spring! Why, it's hardly beyond the end of February yet. The winter'll
hold on till April, and maybe till nigh the end of it."
"Well, away down there they've had real warm weather."
"Now, Susie, you sit right down and write to her that the snow's three
feet deep on a level, and she mustn't dream of running the risk of her
health in coming North till May."
"Spring'll come earlier in the city than it will up here, aunt Sarah.
You can't think how I want to see her."
Port was listening, and he drew a long breath; but he said nothing, and
looked very hard out of the window at the endless reaches of snow. They
were there, but the long cold "snap" was unmistakably over. It was after
supper, that very evening, that Deacon Farnham remarked to his wife,--
"Sarah, the sun's been pretty warm on the trees, and the sap'll be
running. I must be getting ready. I mean to have the biggest kind of a
sugaring this year."
"I'm glad of it, Joshua. It'll be something for the young folks too. I'm
half afraid Susie's beginning to be homesick."
"Nonsense," said aunt Judith; "but of course she wants to see her
mother. She and Port are doin' something or other all the while. It's
been just one jump with 'em, and they've had a good time. They read a
good deal, too; and Port shot two more rabbits only yesterday, and
carried 'em over to Mrs. Stebbins."
The city cousins had indeed had a good time; but they did not tell
anybody how glad they were to see the sun climbing higher, and to feel
sure that spring was nearer.
The increasing sun-power was settling and packing the drifts; and the
bitter nights were all that witnessed, for about a week, to the
remaining strength of the winter. The sap began to run, as the deacon
said it would, and he was fully ready for it. His sugar harvest was to
be gathered among the maple-trees on the south-lying slope, near the
spot where he had done most of his chopping. There were trees there of
the right sort, in great plenty,--great towering old fellows that could
well afford to lose a little sap.
"Judith," said Mrs. Farnham, while her husband was at the barn loading
his wood-sleigh with the things he would need at the sugar-bush, "we
must have the sewing society meet at our house right in sugaring-time."
"It'll be the very thing to do, and I'm glad you thought of it. Only
it'll take a good deal of sugar to sweeten some of 'em."
There was more to be said; but Port and Susie had no share in the
discussion, for they hurried out to the sleigh, and were quickly on
their way to the woods. They had already learned that a hundred tall
maples, more or less, with holes bored into their sides, and with wooden
"spiles" driven into the holes, were thereby transformed into a "bush."
The deacon made the boys leave their guns at home, as he had work for
them to do; but Vosh joined them when they passed his house, and he
carried his double-barrel on his shoulder. He was laughed at a little,
but he said there was no telling when he might find a use for it.
It was a bright and sunny day, but there had been no real thaw as yet.
The crust had settled with the snow, and was still firm enough for the
workers to walk from tree to tree.
The first business was to tap as many as the deacon thought he could
attend to; and the boys had enough to do in carrying from the sleigh the
wooden troughs, and placing them where they would catch the steady drip,
drip, from the sap-spiles.
"They'll fill pretty fast," said the deacon. "We've got some evening
collecting before us, or I'm mistaken. We must have some kettles up as
soon as we can."
He and Vosh and the hired man went right at it, and the deacon declared
that he would have two more hands from the village the next day. Susie
and Pen went with them, and stood watching the process.
"It's easy enough," said Pen, as she saw them struggling with one of the
great iron kettles.
Two strong forked stakes were driven down in convenient places, at about
eight feet apart. A stout pole was laid across each pair of stakes,
resting in the forks. A kettle was swung upon each cross-pole in due
season, but only three had been brought that morning. Then all was ready
for building a fire under the kettle, and beginning to make sugar.
"Won't the snow melt under it?" asked Susie. "Won't it put out the
fire?"
"You'll see," said Vosh. "Of course the snow melts on top, and sinks,
and we keep pitching on bark and stuff, and the ashes are there. The
water runs off through the snow, and all the stuff gets packed hard,
and'll bear as much fire as you can build on it. It makes a cake, and
freezes nights, and those cakes'll be the last things around here that
melt in spring."
He was aching to get a bucket of sap into that first kettle, and a fire
under it, so he could show her how it worked; but the other kettles had
to be set up first. It was well that there should be enough of them to
take the sap as it came, so that nobody need be tempted to throw cold
sap into boiling sirup at the wrong time. A barrel was brought up
afterwards, to hold any surplus that a kettle was not ready for.
While the workers at the sugar-bush were pushing forward their
preparations, Susie and Port were learning a great deal about
maple-sugar processes. They could not help remembering all they knew
about other kinds of sugar. At the same time there was much activity at
the farmhouse. Aunt Judith put on her things, as soon as she could spare
the time for it, and went over to consult with Mrs. Stebbins. Then they
both came back to see Mrs. Farnham; and all three wrapped up, and made
the quickest kind of a walk to the village. They made several short
calls separately, and, when they came together again, Mrs. Stebbins
announced the result triumphantly,--
"We've set the ball a-rollin'. Elder Evans'll give it out in meeting
this evening. All the rest of 'em'll send word, and he'll give it out
again on Sunday. If we don't have your house full next Tuesday, I'm all
out in my count."
Sugar-making in a large "bush" is not a business to be finished up in a
day or two. The weather grew better and better for it, and Deacon
Farnham's extra "hands" were kept at it most industriously. Tuesday
came, and Mrs. Stebbins was not at all out in her count. The house began
to look lively even before noon. Squire King and his wife came just
after dinner, and their sleigh could not have held one more passenger.
It went right back for some more. It was curious, too, considering that
everybody knew all about sugaring. Old or young, hardly any of them were
contented until they had paid a visit to the "bush," and drunk some sap.
Some of the younger people seemed very much inclined to stay there.
"There won't be any great amount of sewing done for the poor heathen,"
remarked one good old lady, with a lump of maple-sugar in one hand, and
a kruller in the other. "What's more, all their appetites'll be spiled,
and they won't enjoy eatin' any thing."
Some afterwards seemed really to have suffered that injury, but not the
majority, by any means. The later arrivals, especially, came hungry. All
the latter part of that afternoon seemed to be one pretty steady-going
dinner or supper. The ladies of the society poured right out into the
kitchen to help aunt Judith, till she begged that no more should come at
once than could stand around the stove.
It was well that there should be a sugar-bush, or some sort of
excitement, to keep a part of that gathering out of doors. The house was
full enough at all times; and before sunset the knots of merry people
scattered around among the maple-trees and kettles discovered why Vosh
Stebbins had persisted in carrying his gun out there every day since the
work began.
Vosh had dreamed of such a thing, and had been almost half afraid of it;
but he had hoped in his heart that it might come, and the peaceful
course of events had disappointed him. He was getting ready to start for
the house that day, gun and all, when he heard somebody scream, away up
near the farthest clump of sugar-trees,--
"Bear, bear, bear! There's a bear drinking sap!"
Ever so many voices were raised at once to announce to everybody the
arrival of that ferocious wild animal, recently waked from his winter's
nap. They told of the dreadful thing he was doing, and suggested other
dreadful things that he might do. He might eat up the society.
"They generally come at night," said the deacon calmly, "but they are
very apt to visit a sugar-bush. They're fond of sap."
"Where's Susie? Where's Pen?" exclaimed Vosh. Then he remembered that
they and a whole party of village girls were up there near those very
trees, and he ran as if his life depended on it.
"Steady, Vosh. Not so fast. I'm a-coming."
There was the deacon panting behind him, axe in hand; and behind him was
the hired man with his axe, and away behind him were three or four
sturdy farmers following with no better weapons than sled-stakes.
Port and Corry were with the girls, and it had been a wonder how quickly
the last girl and boy to be seen had gotten behind a tree. They were all
now peering out for a look at the bear, and Penelope declared of him,--
"He's the largest bear in the world. He's awful!"
Not all of them were where they could see him, and he was making no
effort at all to see them, but his offence was that he had come. No
doubt but he had been a little scared at first, when the girls began to
scream; but he was hungry and thirsty, and he was fond of sap, and he
took courage. There were all those troughs ready for him, and he could
not think of going away without a good drink.
Besides, the bear could not see that any of those young ladies seemed
disposed to come any nearer, and he had not been introduced to one of
them. So he overcame any bashfulness, and put his nose into another
sap-trough, and it was empty in a twinkling. He served another in the
same way, and was going ahead quite contentedly, nearer and nearer the
girls that were afraid to run. At least half a dozen were braver, and
ran remarkably well towards the kettles. Port and Corry, behind their
trees, were longing for all sorts of weapons, when they saw something
well worth seeing.
The bear stood still suddenly; for a dark-eyed, plucky-looking boy, with
something in his hands, stood right in the way.
"What are you loaded with, Vosh?" shouted the deacon. "Nothing but
buckshot? It's risky."
"Buckshot, and two slugs in each barrel."
"That's better. He's turned a little. Take him in the shoulder."
"Bang, bang!" was the reply made by the gun. It was close work, and not
many of the leaden missiles wandered from their broad black target.
The bear was mortally wounded, but he instantly gathered his remaining
strength for a charge. The furiously angry growl he gave sent a thrill
and chill through all the bones of the scattered spectators.
Right past Vosh at that moment sprang the deacon; and he met the bear
halfway, like the brave old borderer that he was. He was a master-hand
with an axe, and its keen edge fell with a thud squarely between the
eyes of the ferocious animal. It sank in as if the bear's head had been
the side of a hickory, and there was no need of any second blow.
The bear was dead; and all the sugar makers and eaters could cluster
around and make remarks upon him, and praise Vosh Stebbins and the
deacon.
"Pen!" exclaimed Susie, "what will his mother say of him now?"
"Why, they'll skin him, and it'll make the beautifullest kind of a
buffalo-robe."
Pen was thinking of the bear only; and Vosh had at once reloaded and
shouldered his gun, and walked away. He was ready for another bear, but
felt pretty sure that none would come. Port and Corry gave up going to
the house for guns and coming back again, and all the young ladies
seemed to think it must be near supper-time. They carried the news to
Mrs. Stebbins, and it was all but provoking that she should take it very
much as a matter of course. If any bear came to be killed, it was as
natural as life that her boy should kill him. He was a young fellow from
whom uncommon things were to be commonly expected.
After the adventure with the bear, the sewing society was a greater
success than before. It went right on until late into the evening, but
the success of it was not in the sewing that was done. The only heathen
for whom much was accomplished was probably the bear himself.
Susie Hudson said to her brother at last, "I don't care, Port, it beats
a city party all to pieces. There's ever so much more real enjoyment. I
want to live in the country."
"Oh, well, I like it in winter. It's well enough. You've been out here
in summer too."
"It's twice as good then."
"No, Susie, it can't be. It must be all hard work in summer. But think
of the fun we've had!"
She did; and late in the evening Vosh Stebbins stepped up to her, and
whispered,--
"May I see you home? The cutter's waiting at the door. All the rest are
getting ready to start."
"I've got to say good-by to them all, I suppose."
"Go round and say it now. I don't want to sleigh-ride anybody else.
They've all got company."
That was the reason why, a little afterwards, Vosh Stebbins's mother
could not find him. He and Susie were jingling over the snow behind the
sorrel colt, and it was a long way home before they returned to the
house.