On the following Saturday the two lads went over to the village, their
principal errand being to secure a boarding-place for themselves and
fathers, for it had been decided to leave the island the coming week.
Then Mr. Boyd was going on to Boston to see about entering business, and
also about putting the boys into some good school. Mr. Floyd had asked
that his brother-in-law would so arrange the business that work might be
found for him.
"I don't care so much for wages," he had explained, "as to be near you
and the lads. I want you all to help me watch myself."
The young partners soon found a boarding-house where they could obtain a
parlor and two sleeping-rooms, with board, at what seemed to them a
reasonable figure, and promising to give their decision early the next
week they left the house. On their way back to the sloop they stepped
into the post-office for their mail, and were handed a letter for Mr.
Boyd.
"It is from Mr. Johnson," said Budd, as he glanced at the address. "I
wonder what he wants of father?"
"Nothing bad, you can be sure," replied Judd. "The day has gone by for
either you or your father to fear anything from that source. I am not
sure but the greatest of your triumphs has been to win him for a
friend."
"He certainly is a friend now," Budd admitted, his heart going out
strongly toward the man he had once counted his enemy; but he little
thought what the outcome of that letter was to be.
"I presume we are taking our last sail for months, at least, in our
sloop," he remarked, as they took their places in the boat and sailed
off down the harbor. "She seems like a near friend to me, and I shall
be sorry when we leave her."
"So shall I," assented Judd; "but still I confess I am glad we are going
on with our schooling. I had hoped for nothing, however, quite as grand
as we probably shall have;" and there was more truth in his words then
he himself knew.
They were still discussing the plans they hoped to realize when they
reached the island. Mr. Boyd was at the wharf, and immediately opened
the letter Budd gave him.
"Hold on!" he a moment later cried out, as Budd was about to take the
sloop to her anchorage. "This letter has laid in the office ever since
yesterday noon. Mr. Johnson simply says he is coming down to-night to
remain over Sunday with us, and wants you to meet him at the six o'clock
train. One of you will have to go back to the village after him."
"We will both go," replied Judd; "there is nothing else to do."
So the sloop was put in readiness for the return trip to the village.
Whatever Mr. Johnson's coming meant he in no way disclosed to the lads
as they met him at the depot. He greeted then; cordially, but seemed
anxious to reach the island, and was unusually silent and preoccupied in
mind the whole way over.
His meeting of Mr. Boyd at the wharf was warm, almost affectionate, and
in a way indicated his purpose in making this visit.
"My dear Henry," he said, grasping Mr. Boyd's hand, "I have found I
cannot get along without you, and so have come to make you an important
proposal--important to me, at least, if not to you."
Mr. Boyd led the way up to the house, while the lads secured the boat
for the night. Supper was on the table, and as soon as the boys came in
all sat down to eat it. When it was finished, Mr. Boyd, turning to Mr.
Johnson, asked:
"Did you wish to see me alone, sir?"
"No; all of you are more or less interested in what I have to say, and I
will wait until the boys have cleared away the table and can join us in
the sitting-room."
Curiosity to know just what was coming hastened the lads' movements, and
in a very few minutes all were seated about the fire, and Mr. Johnson
began:
"Henry, I want to ask, first of all, if you have really forgiven me the
part that I innocently played in securing your imprisonment? This boy
has," and he laid his hand on Budd's head; "but I have thought you, who
were the greatest sufferer, still held a little resentment against me.
Is it not so?"
"I have always thought my years of faithfulness to you ought to have
counted for something when I was accused of forgery, but you seemed to
jump at once to the conclusion that I must be guilty, and so you would
in no way admit that my explanation might be the true one," Mr. Boyd
replied.
Then he went on, with marked hesitation:
"I don't think I have felt just right toward you since then--not,
perhaps, as I ought to feel. Your mistake may have been a natural one;
still you seemed to me to be too hasty in your judgment."
"So I was," admitted Mr. Johnson, frankly; "and the same fault led me to
misjudge your boy also. But, Henry, I have learned my lesson well, I
believe, and you hold a higher place in my estimation now than ever
before, while this boy has my heart."
He paused a moment, visibly affected by his own words, then went rapidly
on:
"Henry, I am getting to be an old man, my business is getting larger
than I can manage, and since you have been away from me I see how much
you were the real head of the whole concern. I have come, therefore, to
ask you to show your forgiveness of the wrong I have done you by coming
back to me, not as my confidential clerk, but as my equal partner in the
new firm of Johnson & Boyd, the whole business to be under your direct
management and care. In fact, Henry, the papers are all here ready for
your signature. You can look them over and see if the conditions are
satisfactory before you give your answer. But I trust you will find it
in your heart to accept my offer."
He took from his pocket a package of papers and handed them over to Mr.
Boyd, who took them mechanically, for he seemed completely overwhelmed
at Mr. Johnson's magnificent offer.
"Now, my lads," said Mr. Johnson, turning to Budd and Judd, "I have a
proposition to make you. I have no children, as you know, and my great
house in the city needs some young life. I have watched and admired the
industry and uprightness you boys have this summer displayed. But you
ought to do something better than the work you have been doing, however
honorable that may be. You want first the school and then the college;
after that the business or professional life. I invite you, then, to
come to my home as my boys, to be educated as my sons, and to be my
heirs. Do not think I mean by this a separation from your fathers; we
will find a place in the house for them, for there can be found work at
the store for Mr. Floyd, and thus you can all be where you can see each
other every day. What I want is to have you with me, so that your fresh
young lives will enliven mine, and teach me how to soften the hard,
stern heart that has twice led me to commit acts I must to my dying day
regret;" and now the tears ran down the old man's cheeks unhindered.
This was but the opening of the great plan that had entered Mr.
Johnson's heart and mind as he sat alone in his library on Thanksgiving
evening and exclaimed:
"I will do it!"
Little by little he unfolded all his hopes concerning the lads in whom
he had become so interested; step by step he made known what he wanted
to do for the middle-aged men, one of whom he had so cruelly wronged;
until, as they listened, his hearers became bewildered with the man's
large-heartedness and munificence.
But Mr. Johnson's purpose was accomplished, for he left the island
Monday morning accompanied by Mr. Boyd, and the lads and Mr. Floyd were
to follow as soon as the house could be closed up and the household
matters adjusted.
This was quite an undertaking, however, since everything was to be
disposed of but the Sea Witch, for it was now evident that the young
firm of Fox Island had closed up their business for good, and the young
partners were to enter upon an altogether different career. Still, the
same elements of character--patience, industry, energy and quickness to
know and use an opportunity--which had made the firm a success, we may
be sure would mark their new career.
That it was these elements that had largely contributed to the lads'
success is clearly apparent; for those who succeeded to their business
under even more favorable auspices soon abandoned it, and to-day only
the tumble-down wharf, the half-filled cellar-way, and the moss-grown
well, mark the place where Budd and his partner had their island home.
But they, grown now to manhood, and busy with the cares of their
professional lives, think often of the summer when first they met, and
talk over the experiences under which they learned some of their most
valuable lessons and triumphed over burdens that seemed too great to
bear.
----
THE BEAR AND THE BOMB SHELL.
During the early months of the California gold fever the brig Janet
entered the harbor of San Francisco. Her freight was intended to supply
the wants of the diggers, and it was the most extraordinary cargo that
was ever put into the hold of any seagoing vessel, except, indeed, those
vessels which sailed to California at this particular time.
There were pickaxes and shovels, powder and boots, needles and coffee,
spikes and tea, horseshoes and tobacco; there were wooden houses ready
to be put up; canvas tents and mattresses; there were jackknives,
hatchets, revolvers, rifles, socks, books, hats, clothes, barrels of
flour, soap, coal, towels, sugar, potatoes, grindstones, locks, quack
medicines, old periodicals, cheap watches, buttons, cotton, glass, tape,
bottles, jewsharps, nails, rubbers; and everything else that the
imaginative mind of a wild speculator could possibly think of as being
likely to sell to a young and rich but destitute community.
Whether the speculation was successful or not, is no business of ours.
My business is with Tom Allan, the cabin boy of the Janet.
The Janet took out about fifty passengers on their way to the gold
diggings. Allan was a stout lad of about seventeen. When he left home
he had no idea of digging gold, but the talk of the passengers on the
way out fairly turned the heads of the crew of the Janet, and even of
the officers, so that when the brig reached San Francisco, and the
passengers landed, the entire crew, together with the cook, the second
mate, and even the first mate, landed with them.
The captain was left alone with the cabin boy. The captain was in
despair. He couldn't get anybody to unload his vessel. He couldn't get
any crew to take her away. And so the end of it was that Allan yielded
to the universal feeling and took his departure from the ship.
For about a year he led a queer kind of a life. He worked at various
diggings without much success, until at length he got possession of a
claim all to himself, in a remote locality, which he proceeded to work
at with desperate determination.
He erected a little hut, and made himself as comfortable as possible,
and set to work vigorously, and soon found, to his great delight, that
the claim was one of unusual richness.
At last, then, after more than a year of adverse fortune, he saw his way
to success.
One day he was hard at work. He had found a rich vein of quartz in
which the gold was very plentiful, so much so, indeed, that it was
possible for him to extract it by his own clumsy tools without having
recourse to a crushing mill.
He had that day been drilling a hole to make ready for a blast, and was
working away diligently with his drill. The hole was just finished,
when suddenly he was startled by a deep and formidable growl close
behind him.
So great was the shock of this unexpected interruption, that the drill
dropped from his hands, and he turned around in horror. That horror was
increased by the sight that he saw. For there, not a dozen yards away,
was a monstrous grizzly bear--one of the largest of his species,
crouching low, and regarding him with eyes that gleamed like coals of
fire.
One look was enough. The next instant, without stopping to take a
second glance, Allan darted off with the mad speed of one who is running
for life, while the huge bear came springing after him.
Such a race as that, if prolonged, could have had but one termination;
and this Allan knew but too well.
As he ran, therefore, he looked all around to see if there was any
chance of escape. But there was none whatever. There was no high cliff
up which he might climb--no narrow crevice in the rocks where he might
seek shelter.
The country was a barren one, with rocks of different sizes scattered
about, here and there. Among these there did not appear anything that
offered a hope of escape from the ravening monster that pursued him.
At last, as he looked despairingly around, he saw one thing which
offered a faint prospect of escape. It was an enormous granite boulder
which arose in the midst of the plain, surrounded by smaller boulders.
This one was about thirty feet high, and its sides were smooth and
convex. In front of this grew a slender tree, and Allan thought that if
he could climb the tree, he might be able to get upon the boulder and
set his enemy at defiance.
There was no time to lose, so he at once acted upon this idea. He
rushed to the tree, seizing it with the grasp of despair, and by
vigorous exertions climbed to the top.
Here he was on a level with the top of the granite boulder, and was
able, by a violent effort, to get upon it. The top of the boulder was
flat, and it had been roughened and scarred and worn by the storms of
centuries, so that Allan found a firm foothold.
The moment that he reached this place of refuge he turned to look at his
enemy.
The grizzly bear was close behind him, and as Allan turned he beheld him
grasping the tree and trying to climb. But the tree was too slender for
the enormous limbs of the bear. He could not grasp it firmly. As the
bear began to perceive this, he growled wrathfully and ominously, and
finally desisted from the attempt.
But he did not desist from his pursuit. On the contrary he drew back a
few feet, and sitting on his hind quarters, he regarded Allan with a
look of grim and patient watchfulness that was terrible to encounter.
On finding that the bear could not climb the tree, Allan experienced a
feeling of relief so great that his fear and despair departed. He
accordingly looked down calmly upon his enemy, and expected that in a
short time he would give up his pursuit and go away. But the bear did
nothing of the kind. As long as Allan looked at him, he looked at
Allan, and showed a power of patient watchfulness that was in the
highest degree creditable to his bearship, but in the last degree
distressing to Allan.
Hours passed, and Allan gave up all ideas of escape for that night. He
therefore prepared to pass the night as best he could. After all it was
not uncomfortable. The rock was hard, it is true, but Allan's
California life had habituated him to hard beds, so that he could sleep
even here. And sleep he did. Slumber came over him after sunset, and
he slept on as only a California miner can, until some time after
sunrise.
On awaking his first thoughts were about his enemy. Slowly and
cautiously he raised his head and looked down. That one short glance
was enough. For there, in the same place, lay the grizzly bear, with
his head upraised in such a way that his fierce, keen eyes encountered
those of Allan as he looked anxiously down. At this sight Allan sank
back, and a feeling of utter despair came over him.
He was both hungry and thirsty. His bones also were sore from a sleep
on this rough resting place, and the misery of his confinement affected
his mind. But what could he do? Again and again the question occurred,
What could he do?
In his despair there at last came to him one idea which held out to him
a chance of escape. It was a very original idea, and could only have
occurred to one like him in his last extremity.
He had no arms, but he had his horn full of blasting powder, and in his
pockets he had also his blasting fuse. He had matches also.
Now, though he had no firearms, yet in these he had the material by
which firearms gave all their efficiency. Necessity is the mother of
invention, and so Allan's dire necessity roused all the inventive
faculty of his mind.
It was a plan which could only be tried once. If it failed he was lost;
if it succeeded he was saved. He could not wait; so he at once prepared
to put his plan in execution.
He took his powder-horn, filled as it was with blasting powder, and in
this he inserted a piece of blasting fuse.
It thus became a bomb shell, roughly made, it is true, yet none the less
effective for all that. Then he took off his shirt, and tearing it up
into small ribbons, he formed a long line. Fastening this to the horn
he lighted the fuse, and then slowly lowered it.
At this extraordinary proceeding, all the well-known curiosity of the
bear was aroused. He watched the horn solemnly, as it descended, and
then as it came low down, he walked up to it and smelled it.
The smell of the burning fuse was offensive, and he expressed his
disgust by a low growl.
At last the horn lay on the ground.
The bear was both puzzled and offended. He put his nose close down to
it, and snuffed again and again at the butt of the horn. From above
Allan watched with a quick-beating heart.
Suddenly there rang out a tremendous explosion, and a great cloud of
smoke rolled up, hiding everything from view. Allan peered cautiously
through this, but could see nothing for a long time.
But though nothing met his eyes, his ears were aware of a chaos of
sounds--fierce growls of rage and pain--howls, shrieks and yells, all of
which proved plainly that very severe damage had been done to somebody.
At last the smoke cleared away, and then Allan saw the bear. From his
head, and breast, and forepaws the hair was all singed off; the skin was
blackened to the hue of soot; his fiery eyes gleamed no more; they were
tight shut, and with growls of agony the monster rushed frantically
about, tossing, and jumping, and rolling over and over. The explosion
had blinded him, and the fierce animal, in his blindness, presented a
spectacle that was terrible to witness.
In his wild leaps and tumbles he went about in all directions, not
knowing where. His agony had driven from him all thoughts of his late
enemy.
Allan now sprang to the tree and quickly descended. He ran to his hut
and seized his rifle and revolver. Then he hurried back. The bear was
still writhing and rolling about in his blindness. One well directed
shot, however, put an end to the monster's sufferings.
Allan did not care about remaining much longer in this place, but soon
after he returned to San Francisco, bringing with him a sufficient
amount of gold to satisfy his wishes, and with this he brought the skin
of the grizzly bear.
----
AN AFTERNOON AT SAGAMORE POND.
It was about the middle of March. We were fishing up at the Sagamore
Pond--Rod Nichols and myself; fishing through the ice for pickerel.
When the country in this part of Maine was first settled, the Sagamore,
as well as all the other ponds and lakes, abounded with lake trout, or,
as they were then called, _togue_ trout--great, broad-backed fellows,
weighing from twelve to twenty pounds. But it was foolishly supposed by
the early settlers that it would be better to have pickerel instead, of
trout in these waters. So pickerel were put into nearly every pond and
lake in this section. They are the most voracious of fish, very strong
and savage, and soon destroyed the trout.
Those of the Sagamore are larger than the pickerel in most of the ponds.
It takes a strong line to get them out of the water. Through a hole in
the ice this is more easily done; but it is no small job to cut such a
hole when the ice is two feet thick. Rod and I were an hour and a half
hacking ours with a hatchet, that afternoon.
It was not far from the shore--eight or ten rods, perhaps--but between
us and the bank there was a wide, open place, worn away, or thawed, by a
"springhole" along the shore. The afternoon sunbeams, falling on the
glass-bright surface, were reflected under the ice, and lighted up the
water as far out as where we had made our hole. We could thus see all
that was going on under us, though the water was nearly twenty feet
deep.
We had fished in this place before, and knew how to take advantage of
this clear water, for it's always pleasant to see what one's about. It
is fully half the sport to see the fish biting.
After skimming our hole, we dropped in a hook baited with a _shiner_--we
had a jug full of them--and waited for a bite; watched and waited
patiently and confidently, but it didn't come. Not a fish could be seen
in all the clear depths beneath. This was unusual, as well as vexatious,
for the Sagamore was known to be well stocked with pickerel, and they
generally took the hook readily. But an hour passed without so much as
a nibble at our bait.
It was a fine, sunny afternoon. Everything was still. There was not
even the cawing of crows to be heard. Presently, looking across to the
shore, we saw a large black creature watching us from an old pine stump,
that was some four or five rods from the water.
"Fisher-cat, isn't it?" said Rod.
It did look like one, certainly. It was black, and about the same size.
"Suppose he'd show fight if we should go round there?" continued Rod,
looking leisurely for the hatchet.
Poor success fishing had made him a little pugnacious, I suppose; and a
scrimmage with a fisher-cat, or carcajoe, when you can get one to face
about, isn't bad fun for those who enjoy such sport, and are willing to
run the risk of getting scratched and bitten.
In explanation, I should say that the "fisher-cat" is a member of the
weasel family. Naturalists call it the _Mustela Canadensis_, or Canada
weasel; a pretty big weasel, to be sure. Hunters and trappers hate it
most heartily, for it will follow them all day on their rounds, taking
the bait out of their traps as fast as they can set them.
Well, if we could not catch any pickerel, perhaps a little fracas with
Mr. Snarly-face, over there, would be the next best thing; and I was
just drawing up my line, when there came a heavy tug at the bait, nearly
jerking the line from my hands. There was not only one tug, but a series
of tugs and rushes to and fro, making the water fairly boil in the hole.
I had hooked a big one, and he was testing the line to the utmost, and
rasping it across the sharp edges of the ice. Holding it steadily,
however, the struggle gradually ceased, and looking down into the water,
we saw a noble fellow, slowly waving his fins on the sand, at the bottom
of the pond.
"Isn't he a thumper!" exclaimed Rod. "Five or six pounds, certain!
Fish enough for one day."
He had become pretty docile, and I had drawn him up within six or seven
feet of the surface, when, with a sudden plunge, a long, dark animal
darted through the water, and seizing the fish, passed out of sight
under the ice, like a black streak. I pulled sharply at the line, once,
twice--then it snapped.
Here was a surprise.
"What on earth was that?" cried Rod.
But there was nothing further to be seen. A few bubbles came struggling
up through the water, but the creature had gone, and so had the fish.
"It couldn't have been that fisher-cat," said Rod.
"No, indeed! Who ever heard of a fisher-cat, or any other cat, swimming
ten rods under water!"
"But he is gone from the stump."
"Well, let him go. That wasn't him."
"What was it, then?"
That was a question easier asked than answered. We were fairly "stuck,"
as Rod expressed it, and stood staring into the hole. Suddenly there
was a wavy motion, deep down, below the surface, and we saw the creature
shoot back, by the hole, with the fish in his mouth. We had just a dim,
refractive glimpse, and he had passed, going toward the shore. We looked
in that direction, and a few seconds after, saw a flat, black head pop
up a moment into sight from the open water, and, then it disappeared. We
watched for some minutes, but it did not come up again.
"Rather a strange performance, anyhow," muttered Rod.
"But let's go round to the shore, and see if we can find the fisher."
Going to the shore, we saw that the bank shelved off abruptly into deep
water; and in one place it was worn smooth, and was icy, as if some
animal had been sliding from it down into the pond. Other than this
there were no traces.
So, first cutting a couple of stout clubs, we went to the pine stump,
where we had seen what we had taken for a fisher. He was gone; but we
discovered a hole in the top of the stump, that went down under the
ground, and looking into it saw a broad, black muzzle, and a pair of
wicked little eyes gleaming up at us.
"Hollo!" cried Rod, "here he is;" thrusting in his stick. The head
vanished.
"But that's no fisher; their noses do not look like that. It was too
big and _blunt_. I'll tell you what," exclaimed he suddenly; "it's an
otter! That was one out in the pond, too. Did you ever see one?"
"No."
"Nor I; but I've heard old Hughy Olives tell about them; and that's just
what this is."
"What about them? Will they fight much?"
"Fight when cornered, Hughy says, like young tigers, too. Dogs are no
match for them. But their fur's valuable."
"That's so. We must get this one if we can."
"There may be more than one. They live two and three together,
sometimes, Hughy said, in burrows, opening under water. This couldn't
be the one that stole our fish, either. It might have been though; for
this hole probably leads out into the water, under the bank. Let's see
if it doesn't."
We ran to the edge and looked over. The water was six or seven feet
deep.
"Stamp on the ground," said I.
Rod did so; and a moment after I saw a long, slim animal glide out from
under the bank and dart off beneath the ice--then another.
"Yes, here he is; two of them."
They didn't come up in the open water, but must have gone off under the
ice. I suppose there were air-holes through it, where they came up to
breathe.
They were otters; no doubt of it. But how to catch them; that was the
next question.
"Hughy spoke of setting traps for them," said Rod.
"So we can! Your father's old bear-trap! Set it down under the bank
here, where their burrow opens out into the water."
"Agreed."
And home we went after the trap. It was nearly three miles, but we were
soon there, and took the trap from the garret, where it had been resting
for a dozen years. It was heavy, and must have weighed sixty or seventy
pounds. But we hung it on a pole, and resting the ends of the pole on
our shoulders, started for the pond; and a fine sweat it gave us before
we reached our destination.
The next thing was to set it. The springs were so rusty and stiff that
we had to use a lever to bend them, and we came near getting caught in
it once or twice; but it was set properly at last, and _sinking_ it at
the entrance of the burrow we chained it to an old root.
This done, we filled in stones, and stopped the hole in the stump at the
upper end of the den, to prevent the otters from getting out there.
Then we went home, for it was considerably after sunset. We had our trap
on their doorstep, as Rod said; they could neither go in nor out without
climbing over it.
The next afternoon we went to see what success attended our efforts.
There was nothing stirring about the stump, and creeping cautiously down
the bank, we looked over. The trap had been sprung and drawn up into
the burrow, partly out of sight. Pulling it out by the chain, sure
enough, there was a long, sleek, black fellow in it fast by one of his
chubby legs. But he was quite dead--drowned.
The great weight of the trap had prevented his coming to the surface.
And although an otter can remain under water for nearly two minutes, yet
at the end of that time he must come to the surface, like any
air-breathing animal, or be suffocated.
We were jubilant. Taking him out, we carefully replaced the trap in its
old position and went home with our game, where, calling in the
assistance and advice of old Hughy, we proceeded to take off the skin
according to standard rules.
The fur was of a light brown color, thickly interspersed with black
hairs, which gives the animal at a little distance the appearance of
being wholly black. The ears were small and far apart, and the feet
short and webbed like a goose. The entire length of the animal,
including its tail, was nearly five feet; but Hughy thought this one
rather above the average size.
The next day we caught another otter--a smaller one; and about a
fortnight after, a third met his fate in the jaws of the old trap.
We received twelve dollars apiece for these skins, and felt very well
satisfied with oar afternoon's sport at the Sagamore.
----
HOW JACK WENT TIGER-HUNTING.
Jack was reading Du Chaillu. He spent a good deal more time that night
over Du Chaillu than over his Latin.
His mother and Bessy were seated by the fire, and presently he came over
and turned his back to the grate, putting his hands behind him, with a
swaggering way he had.
"I've got an idea, mother!" he said.
"I'm glad of that." said Bessy, under her breath. Mrs. Leigh shook her
head at her.
"Well, my son?"
"Du Chaillu's in this country, you know?" Jack's face was red, and his
voice like a trumpet, from excitement.
"I believe he is."
"Oh, I know it, ma'am! I saw in the paper he was lecturing in New York.
And he's going back to Africa next fall. And I--I've made up my mind to
go with him!"
Bessy stared.
"To Africa?" said Mrs. Leigh, folding her hem.
"Yes, mother." Jack was a little damped to find his views received so
quietly.
"That is, with your permission. But you see all through this book he is
inviting the boys to go. He was but a lad when he killed his first
lion. He says nothing would delight him more than to take some fine
courageous fellow into the jungle, and teach him how to trap elephants
and hunt tigers. Oh, if I could wing a tiger with my gun!"
"Will you thread my needle, Bessy? I think if you wait, you will be a
better shot in a year or two, probably, Jack."
"You think I couldn't stand it," blustered Jack. "Why, I've got muscles
on me like iron. I tell you, nothing would please me better than
footing it through the jungle for months, eating leopard and monkey
steaks, and fighting gorillas. Those negroes were poor stuff for
hunters, I think! Used to give out in a week or two. So did Du Chaillu.
Why, I could go on for months, and never complain."
"Who was that whining over his grammar, awhile ago?" asked his sister.
"That's a very different matter," stammered Jack angrily. "What kind of
sense is there in _amaba--bis--bus_! That's stuff! If I had a chance
with my gun now, at a lion, say--
"If you cannot conquer nouns and verbs, Jack," said Mrs. Leigh, "I am
not afraid for the wild beasts."
"As for Bess, she needn't laugh," growled Jack. "What does a girl know,
with her curls, and paniers, and folderols? She never even read Du
Chaillu;" and he stamped into the dining-room and began to kick off his
boots.
"You should not tease your brother, Bessy."
Bessy laughed. She was a fat, pretty, good-tempered girl, very fond of
Jack and just as fond of squabbling with him.
"He is such a fellow to brag, mamma. Now I know he'll be at it again.
There he comes."
Jack came in and leaned with his elbows on the table, watching his
mother and thinking.
"Now Du Chaillu and those fellows," he broke out, "had a way of skulking
behind trees and shooting at animals from ambush. I don't approve of
that. I would not do that. The way to meet a wild beast is to fix your
eye on him boldly. Look him straight in the eye. What are you laughing
at, Bess? I tell you scientific men say there's nothing like the power
of the human eye. Then when I had him fixed, I'd take aim deliberately
and fire. I'd have him at an advantage, you see. Mother, there's a
fire! I hear the bells!"
"Yes."
"Can I go? Just to see where it is? Only to the corner? I won't go a
step beyond the corner, I promise you."
"Very well, Jack, I trust you."
Jack's word, when he gave it, was as good as his oath, and although the
street was quite dark, yet as they lived in a quiet part of the city his
mother saw him go without fear.
There was a good deal of noise and confusion outside. An engine ran
past and men shouting; but in half an hour Mrs. Leigh and Bessy heard
Jack coming leisurely up the steps, whistling and talking.
"Here, sir! Wheet! wheet! This way. In with you. Gracious, mother,
how dark this hall is! Why don't Ann? Wheet--wheet! There!" opening
the back door, "stay there till morning." He shut and locked the door
again and came into the parlor.
"'Twasn't much of a fire--near two miles off--somewhere about the
Northern mills."
"There was great confusion," said Mrs. Leigh.
"There always is. Now if I was the captain of a fire company, I'd
manage differently. I'd say to this man, go here, and to that man, go
there, and they should not dare to utter a word. Then the fires would
be put out."
"Who was that in the hall, Jack?" inquired Bessy.
"A big dog; a most tremendous fellow. He came running alongside of me
on the street, and turned up the steps as I did. Somebody's lost him, I
suppose. I put him in the yard till daylight, and then I can see him
and look up his owner."
"Was he a pretty dog?" said Bess eagerly.
"How could I tell? I told you I didn't see him. As he brushed by me, I
felt that he was a strapping fellow. The hall's as dark as pitch."
"You didn't fix him with your eye, then?"
Jack said nothing, but lighted his candle and went to bed.
The next morning he was awakened by a thumping at the door, and in
rushed Bessy, wild with excitement, the morning newspaper in her hand.
"O, Jack, listen to this!" jumping on the bed and beginning to read
breathlessly:
"ESCAPE OF WILD ANIMALS.--The fire of last night communicated with the
stables where the animals connected with Drivers' Menagerie were stored
for the winter, and several of them escaped. They were promptly pursued
and captured, with the exception of the Bengal tiger, that was last seen
making its way toward the southern part of the city. At the hour of our
going to press no traces have been found of the animal."
Bessy laid down the paper. Her eyes were set deeper in her head than
usual, and they burned like coals. "Jack!" she gasped, "what do you
think?"
Jack's face, and neck, and very ears were scarlet. He stammered, and did
not seem nearly so tumultuous as usual.
"I think it's in our back yard," he said, at last. "I wish you'd get out
of this, Bessy. I'll--I'll get up and call a policeman."
"A policeman! What on earth can he do with a tiger?" cried Bessy, in
discomfiture. "Why, I thought for sure, Jack, you'd fix him with your
eye; or wing him. Sha'n't I bring you your gun to wing him?"
"Perhaps I will," said Jack loftily. "But I must be dressed first."
Bessy went out, but stood just outside of the door, trembling and
quaking, her hand on the knob. Her mother had gone out early. Usually
she had very little dependence on Jack, or his bravery, but anything in
the shape of man or boy is a comfort to a frightened woman, and all of
Jack's boasting came back soothingly now to Bessy. In half a minute
Jack had scrambled into his clothes and was out.
"Have you seen it? Where is it?"
"It's in the coal-shed; in the darkest end. Ann's got the back doors
tight locked and bolted, and she's up in bed with the pillow over her
head. There's your gun, Jack."
Jack took the gun, and still in his stocking feet, went on tiptoe to
reconnoiter. From the second-story window he saw that the yard was
quite clear. Just by the house stood the coal-shed, dingy and dirty
enough at ordinary times, but now covered with the mystery and horror of
an African jungle.
"You think it's in there, do you?" he said, under his breath.
"Oh, Ann heard it! Such a horrible roar! Up in the very back part.
How will you get at it to shoot it?"
"I'll call in the police as soon as I'm sure it's the tiger. If it was
in the jungle I'd face it. But such animals are always doubly furious
for being confined."
"There's a knot hole in the shed. You can peep, Jack. He won't see
you."
But Jack was growing unaccountably pale, and his teeth were chattering.
"I'd--I'd rather not open the door--on your account, Bess. He might run
in."
"Fire your gun and he'll dash out into the yard!" cried Bess, not
knowing whether to laugh or cry, in her excitement. "Good gracious!
what will the girls say at school when they hear we've had a real tiger
in our shed. If you'd only shoot him, and we'd have him stuffed."
"I mean to shoot when he comes out."
But Jack's fingers shook so as he adjusted the trigger that one would
have thought he had the palsy.
"I'll tell you what to do!" shouted Bessy, clapping her hands. "I'll go
down to the kitchen window, and throw a bone out in front of the
shed-door, and when he rushes out for it, you look if it's the tiger or
not."
"Very well."
"Unless you'd rather throw the bone," hesitated Bessy, her heart giving
way.
"There's not the least danger for you, Bessy. And I'm a better judge of
tigers. I'm more familiar with their habits than you."
Off went Bessy, and finding a half-eaten roast of beef in the pantry,
she opened the kitchen window, her heart choking her as she did it, and
flung it out with all her strength. There was a rush from the shed, but
Bessy had closed the shutters and was flying up the stairs. Halfway up
stood Jack, pale and breathless.
"Was it the tiger?"
"Yes."
"Oh, Jack!" Bessy clasped her hands. "Is he--is he big?"
"Oh, he's a monster. His eyes are like coals of fire." Jack jerked out
the words as he dashed down the stairs and out of the front door,
shouting, "Police! police!"
One can easily guess what followed then. When Mrs. Leigh came home from
market, a dense crowd packed the street for half a square from her
house, on the outskirts of which skirmished women, with babies in their
arms, boys open-mouthed, and cart-men cracking their whips, whose horses
stood waiting in a crowd at the corner. In front of the door stood one
of the vans of the menagerie. Wild cries of "The tiger!" "The lion!"
resounded from side to side, and every time the door opened the crowd
fell back, expecting him to charge on them. Way was made for Mrs.
Leigh. Everybody looked at her with respect.
"He's in your house, ma'am."
"It was your son that discovered him."
Mrs. Leigh hurried in, terrified at the thought of what might have
befallen her children. The house was filled with men. Policemen were
in full force to keep order. The keepers from the menagerie had a net
suspended over the door of the shed, to catch the tiger when it should
rush out. Half a dozen men stood with guns ready pointed, in case he
should attack them.
"But don't fire, unless in case of absolute necessity," pleaded the
keeper. "Consider the cost, gentlemen. That beast is worth, as he
stands, two thousand dollars."
"What's your two thousand dollars to us?" growled one of the men,
cocking his gun. "Consider our lives."
Nobody as yet had seen the tiger but Jack, who stood in an upper window,
the observed of all observers.
The keepers went on with their preparations. It was their plan to shoot
into the shed, over the tiger's head, and when he charged on them,
capture him in the net.
"Let every man take care of himself," said the keeper. "Fire if we do
not secure him. Are you ready, men?"
The men, with pale faces, lowered the net. "All right!"
"Look out, then. One, two, three!"
"Bang!" went the pistol over the beast's head. There was a moment's
pause, and then a fierce dash and a shriek from the people, caught up
and echoed by the crowd outside. The men tugged at their net and
caught--
"Brown's big yellow dog!" shouted the policemen.
"Where's that young coward that fooled us?" The keepers raged and the
crowd cheered.
But Jack had hidden away with his shame and could not be found. He
never was known to brag again.