all lost—the gathering gloom of fog and of night—sudden discovery.—the lost one found.—a turkey with four legs.—a cheerful discussion.—five hours of wandering.—when will it end?—once more upon the tramp.
they went on.
the shades of evening were now coming down rapidly, and these were all intensified by the dense fog that hung around them. the woods grew more and more obscure, and the gloom that prevailed here was added to that of the twilight and the fog. it was evident that they could not go on much longer.
fortunately, it was not so difficult now as it had been previously. the trees stood farther apart than usual. there was but little underbrush. the ground was covered with moss, but it was quite dry. this was encouraging, for if they tried to pass the night in the woods, they could not find a better place than the one which they were traversing. they would probably have given up, and decided upon making preparations for the night, had it not been for their desire to find pat. if he had been with them, their journey for that night would have ended. but they did not like to think of him alone, severed from them, and wandering in the woods. so they kept on their way; and still, as they went along, they shouted occasionally, with some vague hope that their cry might come to the ears of the wanderer.
it grew darker and darker.
at last they began to think of halting for the night. pat was given up. they comforted themselves with the thought that he was hardy, and fearless, and self-reliant; that the nights were mild; and that spruce boughs abounded, together with ferns and moss, on which one might sleep peacefully and pleasantly. so, as it grew darker, they talked of stopping, and making their preparations for the night before it grew too dark.
suddenly, as they were talking over these things, they saw before them through the trees, yet not more than a dozen paces distant, a very familiar form. it was a “snake fence,”—that is to say, a fence formed of poles, built in such a way that it runs in a zigzag direction. at once the thought flashed upon them that they were near some farmhouse, perhaps some settlement; and then arose the hope of a better night’s rest than could be afforded by the woods with their damp and foggy atmosphere. with a cry of joy they rushed forward. they reached it. they looked over. in a moment the cry of joy was succeeded by one of surprise.
it was a road which lay before them.
yes, a road, wide and well travelled,—not a private path to some small cottage, not an ox-path through dense woods, but a regular road fit for carriages, and evidently leading to some settlement.
but what settlement?
in a moment they had clambered over the fence, and stood in the road with one common determination in all of them not to leave it again for any woods whatsoever.
yet what road was this? and where did it go?
this was the question.
and this question it was not possible to answer.
had they continued on uninterruptedly, bruce would have been convinced that it was the scott’s bay road. but their digression after pat had led them such a journey, that he was not by any means sure; nor were any of the others. all felt that they had been wandering blindly, that after leaving the cliff they had no certainty as to their destination. this uncertainty had been increased by pat’s leadership with the pole, and had been turned into utter and hopeless perplexity by their last pursuit of him. they had been wandering now, since they parted with dr. porter, for more than four hours. that gave time enough for them to get anywhere. it might be the road to hall’s harbor in which they now found themselves.
in this state of uncertainty they remained for some time.
“well, boys,” said bruce, at last, “it’s impossible to tell where we are; but, in my opinion, we’d better take it for granted that this is the scott’s bay road. it’s more likely, after all, to be that than the hall’s harbor road. if it is, we have to find our way back to where the wagons are, according to the doctor’s directions, and wait there for him. now, if this is the scott’s bay road, we must turn to the right, in order to go back, for on the left it goes to scott’s bay. so, i say, let’s turn up the road to the right, and walk back to the wagons.”
bruce’s opinion was accepted by the others, and his decision at once adopted. they all turned up the road to the right, and walked onward, not knowing how far they would have to walk, yet feeling greatly inspirited by the mere fact that they were out of the woods.
as they went on, it grew darker and darker at every step. the sun had gone down, the shadows of night were descending, and these shadows were all deepened by the universal fog which covered all things. the deepening gloom made their own escape from the woods appear all the more fortunate. true, they might have built a fire there, to cheer themselves by its light, and spread soft beds of moss and fern around it, and thus, even amid the forest, they could have risen superior to their dismal surroundings; but still there was a very great relief, which was felt by all, at their gaining a road which might lead them to some human abode. besides, they were hungry. they had eaten all their sandwiches, and were eager for something to assuage their ravenous appetites.
one thing there was, however, which greatly marred their joy, and that was the thought of poor pat. perhaps he still was wandering in the woods, having given up his chase, calling for them, and thinking that they had deserted him. the thought of poor pat’s loneliness was a sad one to all of them, and they could only find consolation in their belief in his perfect ability to take care of himself. at books he might not be very brilliant, but in all the practical matters of life pat was certainly in every way worthy of being left entirely to himself. under such circumstances, pat was able to shine with uncommon brilliancy. in all probability, he would fare better if left to his own devices, than he would if he were a member of a crowd of school-boys. with such thoughts as these they comforted themselves, and thus tried to overcome their anxiety about pat.
they had walked about half a mile after leaving the woods, when they saw a figure approaching them. it was not far away when they first noticed that figure, and it appeared strangely familiar.
they came nearer and nearer. the familiar outlines of the approaching figure grew more and more distinct. at last the figure came close up to them, and then suspicions became a delightful certainty.
yes! it was no other than pat himself!
a wild uproar of cheers and voluble questionings greeted the returning wanderer.
“when did you get out of the woods?” they asked.
“whin, is it? sure it wor ony five minutes ago.”
“where are you going?”
“where, is it? sure i’m goin back till the ‘cad’my.”
“the academy? pooh! you’re going straight away from it. come along with us. didn’t you hear us calling you?”
“callin me? niver a call did i hear.”
“why, we followed you, and yelled, and shouted, and halloed, and hooted, and screamed, and bawled, and roared, and squalled, and whistled, and crowed, and croaked, and made every noise that we could make. we gave up everything to find you. it was only by chance that we found the road. we have just been talking about you. we were thinking about going into the woods again a little way, and shouting. but where’s your pole, and what’s become of the animal that you were chasing?”
“sure an it’s the mischief itsilf intirely. niver did i see such a baste. i chased it, an chased it, an it dodged, an i thought i sthruck it a hundhred times; but the little baste got off afther all, so it did.”
“so you didn’t catch it.”
“catch it? niver a catch. it tuk me tip into a place that i couldn’t get out of fur half an hour. i lost me pole, an gave up. i couldn’t find a sign of it, an i wandhered about, whin all av a suddint, i found mesilf by the road. an be the powers! it wor mesilf that wor glad till find that same. the dirty little baste that wudn’t let itsilf be caught, like a christian!”
“what dirty little baste?”
“why, the wild turkey.”
“wild turkey! ha, ha, ha!”
“wild duck, thin.”
“wild duck!” cried the boys; and another laugh followed.
“well, thin, it wor a wild goose, ony it had fower legs, so it had—whativer it wor.”
at this very remarkable description the boys’ laughter burst forth afresh.
“well,” said pat, “what wor it, thin?—wor it a bayver?”
“no,” said bart, “nor a moose, either.”
“what wor it, thin?” cried pat. “niver did i behowld anythin like it. it had fower legs, so it had; an it had long spikes all over its back. was it any kind of a rabbit, thin?”
“it was a porcupine,” said arthur. “haven’t you ever seen any of them?”
“pooh!” said bart. “pat, look here. i’ll tell you really what it was. it was the real, identical, original, bona fide ghost, that howls and knocks in the academy garret. you ought to have known it at once. i did, the moment i saw it.”
“ah, blatheration take ye, wid yer ghosts, an yer howls,” said pat, peevishly. “an what wor that ye said?” he asked, turning to arthur. “what wor the name av the little baste that ye mintioned jest now, thin?”
“a porcupine,” said arthur.
“porkypine!” said pat. “porky pine! well, it wor a strange baste intirely. i thried hard to get him. it ud have been a swate baste fur the musayum, so it wud. but i cudn’t get a howld av him, bad luck to him!”
“it’s lucky for you, pat,” said bart, “that you didn’t get hold of him. he’s got spikes enough about his back to stick you through and through, if you put your hand on him. you’ve got off very easily, pat. you ought to say good luck to him.”
“sure an it’s mesilf that niver, niver saw the aqual av that baste, so i didn’t. i hit him mesilf wid me powl a dozen cracks—yes, a hundhred; but niver a bit did he budge for all that same. he didn’t let out ayven a squake, so he didn’t. an me a chasin av him over the wuds! but i cudn’t get nair him.”
“o, well, pat, it’s all right,” said bruce. “you ought to be glad you didn’t get near him. you’d have been laid up for a couple of months if you had. if you don’t understand porcupines, you’d better steer clear of them. they’re not very pleasant beasts to handle. i know that. but come, boys. it’s getting darker and darker. we mustn’t stand dawdling here all night. hurry up, and come along.”
saying this, bruce strode forward, and all the boys followed.
