Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 11 (18 page)

 
          
           
On the evening we speak of, she went to wait for Becky, who would join her as
soon as the after-supper chores were done. In the little cave which held a few
books, a dipper, and a birch-bark basket for berries, Emily kept a sketching
block and a box of pencils, and often amused herself by trying to catch some of
the lovely scenes before her. These efforts usually ended in a humbler attempt,
and a good study of an oak-tree, a bit of rock, or a clump of ferns was the
result. This evening the sunset was so beautiful she could not draw, and
remembering that somewhere in Becky's scrap-book there was a fine description
of such an hour by some poet, she pulled out the shabby old volume, and began
to turn over the leaves.

 
          
           
She had never cared to look at it but once, having read all the best of its
contents in more attractive volumes, so Becky kept it tucked away in the
farther corner of her rustic closet, and evidently thought it a safe place to
conceal a certain little secret which Emily now discovered. As she turned the
stiff pages filled with all sorts of verses, good, bad, and indifferent, a
sheet of paper appeared on which was scribbled these lines in school-girl
handwriting:—

 
          
           
Two boys sat on the bars, one whittling, the other whistling,—not for want of
thought by any means, for his brow was knit in an anxious frown, and he paused
now and then to thump the rail, with an impatient exclamation. The other lad
appeared to be absorbed in shaping an arrow from the slender stick in his hand,
but he watched his neighbor with a grin, saying a few words occasionally which
seemed to add to his irritation, though they were in a sympathizing tone.

 
          
           
"Oh, well, if a chap can't do a thing he can't; and he'd better give up
and say, 'Beat.'"

 
          
           
"But I won't give up, and I never say 'Beat.' I'm not going to be laughed
out of it, and I'll do what I said I would, if it takes all summer, Chris
Warner."

 
          
           
"You'll have to be pretty spry, then, for there's only two more days to
August," replied the whittler, shutting one eye to look along his arrow
and see if it was true.

 
          
           
"I intend to be spry, and if you won't go and blab, I'll tell you a plan I
made last night."

 
          
           
"Guess you can trust me. I've heard about a dozen plans now, and never
told one of 'em."

 
          
           
"They all failed, so there was nothing to tell. But this one is
not
going to fail, if I die for it. I
feel that it's best to tell some one, because it is really dangerous; and if
anything
should
happen to me, as is
very likely, it would save time and trouble."

 
          
           
"Don't seem to feel anxious a mite. But I'll stand ready to pick up the
pieces, if you come to grief."

 
          
           
"Now, Chris, it's mean of you to keep on making fun when I'm in dead
earnest; and this may be the last thing you can do for me."

 
          
           
"Wait till I get out my handkerchief; if you're going to be affectin' I
may want it. Granite's cheap up here; just mention what you'd like on your
tombstone and I'll see that it's done, if it takes my last cent."

 
          
           
The big boy in the blue overalls spoke with such a comical drawl that the
slender city lad could not help laughing, and with a slap that nearly sent his
neighbor off his perch, Corny said good-naturedly:

 
          
           
"Come now, stop joking and lend a hand, and I'll do anything I can for
you. I've set my heart on shooting a wildcat, and I know I can if I once get a
good chance. Mother won't let me go off far enough, so of course I don't do it,
and then you all jeer at me. To-morrow we are going up the mountain, and I'm
set on trying again, for Abner says the big woods are the place to find the
'varmint'. Now you hold your tongue, and let me slip away when I think we've
hit the right spot. I'm not a bit afraid, and while the rest go poking to the
top, I'll plunge into the woods and see what I can do."

 
          
           
"All right.
Better take old Buff; he'll bring you
home when you get lost, and keep puss from clawing you. You won't like that
part of the fun as much as you expect to, maybe," said Chris, with a sly
twinkle of the eye, as he glanced at Corny and then away to the vast forest
that stretched far up the mighty mountain's side.

 
          
           
"No, I don't want any help, and Buff will betray me by barking; I prefer
to go alone. I shall take some lunch and plenty of shot, and have a glorious
time, even if I don't meet that confounded beast. I will keep dashing in and
out of the woods as we go; then no one will miss me for a while, and when they
do you just say, 'Oh, he's all right; he'll be along directly,' and go ahead,
and let me alone."

 
          
           
Corny spoke so confidently, and looked so pleased with his plan, that honest
Chris could not bear to tell him how much danger he would run in that pathless
forest, where older hunters than he had been lost.

 
          
           
"Don't feel as if I cared to tell any lies about it, and I don't advise
your goin'; but if you're mad for catamounts, I s'pose I must humor you and say
nothing. Only bear in mind, Abner and I will be along, and if you get into a
scrape jest give a yell and we'll come."

 
          
           
"No fear of that; I've tramped round all summer, and know my way like an
Indian. Keep the girls quiet, and let me have a good lark. I'll turn up all
right by sundown; so don't worry. Not a word to mother, mind, or she won't let
me go. I'll make things straight with her after the fun is over."

 
          
           
"That ain't just square; but it's not my funeral, so I won't meddle. Hope
you'll have first rate sport, and bag a brace of cats. One thing you mind,
don't get too nigh before you fire; and keep out of sight of the critters as
much as you can."

 
          
           
Chris spoke in a deep whisper, looking so excited and impressed by the reckless
courage of his mate that Corny felt himself a Leatherstocking, and went off to
tea with his finger on his lips, full of boyish faith in his own powers. If he
had seen Chris dart behind the barn, and there roll upon the grass in
convulsions of laughter, he would have been both surprised and hurt.

 
          
           
No deacon could have been more sober, however, than Chris when they met next
morning, while the party of summer boarders at the old farm-house were in a
pleasant bustle of preparation for the long expected day on the mountain. Three
merry girls, a pair of small boys, two amiable mammas, Chris and Corny, made up
the party, with Abner to drive the big wagon drawn by Milk and Molasses, the
yellow span.

 
          
           
"All aboard!" shouted our young Nimrod, in a hurry to be off, as the
lunch-basket was handed up, and the small boys packed in the most uncomfortable
corners, regardless of their arms and legs.

 
          
           
Away they rattled with a parting cheer, and peace fell upon the farm-house for
a few hours, to the great contentment of the good people left behind. Corny's
mother was one of them, and her last words were,—"A pleasant day, dear. I
wish you'd leave that gun at home; I'm so afraid you'll get hurt with it.'

 
          
           
"No fun without it. Don't worry, mammy; I'm old enough to take care of
myself."

 
          
           
"I'll see to him, ma'am," called Chris, as he hung on behind, and
waved his old straw hat, with a steady, reliable sort of look, that made the
anxious lady feel more comfortable.

 
          
           
"We are going to walk up, and leave the horses to rest; so I can choose my
time. See, I've got a bottle of cold tea in this pocket, and a lot of grub in
the other. No danger of my
starving,
is there?"
whispered Corny, as he leaned over to Chris, who sat, apparently, on nothing,
with his long legs dangling into space.

 
          
           
"Shouldn't wonder if you needed every mite of it.
Hunting is mighty hard work on a hot day, and this is going to be a
blazer," answered Chris, pulling his big straw hat lower over his eyes.

 
          
           
As we intend to follow Corny's adventures, we need not pause to describe the
drive, which was a merry one; with girls chattering, mammas holding on to
excited small boys, in danger of flying out at every jolt, Abner joking till
every one roared, Corny's dangerous evolutions with the beloved gun, and the
gymnastic feats Chris performed, jumping off to pick flowers for the ladies,
and getting on again while Milk and Molasses tore up and down the rough road as
if they enjoyed it.

 
          
           
About
ten o'clock
they reached the
foot of the mountain; and after a short rest at the hotel, began the three-mile
ascent in high spirits. Abner was to follow later with the wagon, to bring the
party down; so Chris was guide, as he knew the way
well,
and often came with people.
The girls and younger boys
hurried on, full of eagerness to reach the top.
The ladies went more
slowly, enjoying the grand beauty of the scene, while Chris carried the
lunch-basket, and Corny lingered in the rear, waiting for a good chance to
"plunge."

 
          
           
He wanted to be off before Abner came, as he well knew that wise man and mighty
hunter would never let him go alone.

 
          
           
"The very next path I see, I'll dive in and run; Chris can't leave the
rest to follow, and if I once get a good start, they won't catch me in a
hurry," thought the boy, longing to be free and alone in the wild woods
that tempted him on either hand.

 
          
           
Just as he was tightening his belt to be ready for the run, Mrs. Barker, the
stout lady, called him; and being a well-bred lad, he hastened at once to see
what she wanted, feeling that he was the only gentleman in the party.

 
          
           
"Give me your arm, dear; I'm getting very tired, and fear I can't hold out
to the top, without a little help," said the poor lady, red and panting
with the heat, and steepness of the road.

 
          
           
"Certainly ma'am," answered Corny, obeying at once, and inwardly
resolving to deposit his fair burden on the first fallen log they came to, and
make his escape.

 
          
           
But Mrs. Barker got on bravely, with the support of his strong arm, and chatted
away so delightfully that Corny would really have enjoyed the walk, if his soul
had not been yearning for catamounts. He did his best, but when they passed
opening after opening into the green recesses of the wood, and the granite
boulders grew more and more plentiful, his patience gave out, and he began to
plan what he could say to excuse himself. Chris was behind, apparently deaf and
blind to his calls and imploring glances, though he grinned cheerfully when
poor Corny looked round and beckoned, as well as he could, with a gun on one
arm and a stout lady on the other.

 
          
           
"The hardest part is coming now, and we'd better rest a moment. Here's a
nice rock, and the last spring we are likely to see till we get to the top.
Come on, Chris, and give us the dipper. Mrs. Barker wants a drink, and so do
I," called the young hunter, driven to despair at last.

 
          
           
Up came Chris, and while he rummaged in the well-packed basket, Corny slipped
into the wood, leaving the good lady with her thanks half spoken, sitting on a
warm stone beside a muddy little pool. A loud laugh followed him, as he
scrambled through the tall ferns and went plunging down the steep mountain
side, eager to reach the lower woods.

 
          
           
"Let him laugh; it will be my turn when I go home, with a fine cat over my
shoulder," thought Corny, tearing along, heedless of falls, scratches, and
bruised knees.

 
          
           
At length he paused for breath, and looked about him well satisfied, for the
spot was lonely and lovely enough to suit any hunter. The tallest pines he ever
saw sighed far overhead; the ground was ankle deep in moss, and gay with
scarlet bunch-berries; every fallen log was veiled by sweet-scented Linnea,
green vines or nodding brakes; while hidden brooks sang musically, and the air
was full of the soft flutter of leaves, the whir of wings, the sound of birds
gossiping sweetly in the safe shelter of the forest, where human feet so seldom
came.

 
          
           
"I'll rest a bit, and then go along down, keeping a look out for puss by
the way," thought Corny, feeling safe and free, and very happy, for he had
his own way, at last, and a whole day to lead the life he loved.

 
          
           
So he bathed his hot face, took a cool drink, and lay on the moss, staring up
into the green gloom of the pines, blissfully dreaming of the joys of a hunter's
life,—till a peculiar cry startled him to his feet, and sent him creeping
warily toward the sound. Whether it was a new kind of bird, or a fox, or a
bear, he did not know, but fondly hoped it was a wildcat; though he was well
aware that the latter creature sleeps by
day,
and
prowls by night. Abner said they purred and snarled and gave a mewing sort of
cry; but which it was now he could not tell, having unfortunately been half
asleep.