next morning the mighty nimrods breakfasted, in imagination, on their deer; and then struck out into the forest, resolved to unearth the rogue who had gulled poor will.
but soon the fickle hunters concluded to secure the services of an officer of the law, and on reaching the edge of the forest they were directed where to find such a person.
they came up with this man in his orchard, but whether he was gathering apples or only eating them they could not guess. he listened patiently to the story of their wrongs (they did not give it exactly as it happened, but they did not falsify it at all), and then told them that they might go on with their hunt and not trouble their heads about it further, for he would soon overhaul the villain.
the hunters lingered irresolutely, but the man seemed to know his own business best, and with a peremptory “good day” he scrambled into a patriarchal apple-tree, and fell to shaking down his apples so recklessly and disrespectfully that they thought it prudent to withdraw.
“i will catch the rascal myself, after all,” will declared.
“yes, let us penetrate far into this old forest,” marmaduke added. “if we explore its length and breadth, perhaps we shall find some trace of our game.”
“perhaps, if we set to work in earnest, we shall be more successful hunting for man than we have been for beast,” the young man who used to be called the sage observed.
with that the hunters struck out boldly.
“boys,” said charles, (they still used the familiar appellation of former years,) “did any of you ever read a romance in which a scout figured as the hero, or in which the hero sometimes played the part of a scout, or spy?”
[363]
“i have,” said two or three.
“well, how did they go about it?” charles asked.
“oh,” said stephen, who took it upon himself to answer, “they always wore leather breeches, moccasins, and shot-belts; they always struck the trail at once, smoked the chiefs’ peace-pipe, and slew the common indians; they always followed their trade alone,—or if they had a mate, both went alone,—and chewed home-made tobacco with the few tusks still left them; they always tomahawked deserters, other people’s spies, or scouts, and wild-cats; and finally, they always found out secrets that got them into trouble, but lived to receive a gold snuff-box on the occasion of the hero’s wedding. what they did with the gold snuff-box i don’t know; for there the romancer, being too much exhausted to write ‘the end,’ which has six letters, always wrote ‘finis,’ which has only five.”
“thank you, steve,” said charles. “but according to that, it is hopeless for us to act the orthodox spy, so we shall have to go on blindly and take our chances.”
and they did go on blindly—so blindly, that five hours later, when hunger began to show her hand, they perceived that they were lost! lost in a vast forest, which, for all they knew, was infested with robbers!
“it is strange that we have not travelled in a circle,” george mused. “you all know, of course, that when a man loses his way, it is a fundamental principle that he should travel in a circle.”
“well, if we keep on diligently, probably we shall have the pleasure of finding that we are travelling in a circle,” charles commented.
“i tell you what it is, boys;” steve said, making use of an expression that had left his lips at least once daily since his twelfth year; “i tell you what it is, boys; now that we are lost, let us make the most of it. i have had a hankering to get lost ever since i cried myself to sleep over the mournful tale of the ‘babes in the woods;’ and now i am going to enjoy the novel sensation of being lost! hurrah!”
and in the exuberance of his spirits careless steve[364] plucked off his hat and flung it aloft so adroitly that it caught in a tree and dangled there tantalizingly, quite out of his reach. however, a ball from charles’s rifle induced it to fall.
“that is the most useful thing i have shot, steve,” he confessed dejectedly; “and if it had been a thing of life, i should have terminated that life,” pointing to a ghastly hole in the crown of the hat.
“don’t be so much moved, steve,” george observed; “for you may fare worse than even the ‘babes in the woods.’ poor little creatures, they died happy, at least.”
“oh,” said marmaduke, also delighted to think he was actually lost, “we can live very well for a few days in this magnificent old forest. we can, of course, procure all the animal food we shall need, together with roots, herbs, and berries—no, it’s too late for berries. a man can live on fish, fruit, and roots, without injury to his system; and in a few days we shall find our way out, or else be rescued by others.”
“very good,” said will; “but where are we to catch the fishes?”
“oh,” steve said promptly, “marmaduke bases his argument on the supposition that whenever a hunter gets lost, he and a ‘pure stream,’ stocked with fish, presently fall into each other’s arms.”
“speaking of rescue,” said charles, “many a poor lost hunter is rescued from his sufferings by wild beasts that devour him.”
“it is sheer nonsense to talk of becoming lost here,” will declared dogmatically, “because this forest is not extensive enough for any sensible man to remain lost in it for any great length of time. i see daylight to the north, now; though where we are is more, i must acknowledge, than i can tell.”
“my compass persists that that light comes from the west,” stephen soon said; “but of course, will, you are too sensible a man to get lost or make such a mistake, therefore my compass has become demoralized.”
will took out his compass, looked at it very hard, and then pocketed it with a sigh.
[365]
the hunters moved towards the light, and soon found themselves in a clearing of some extent. a strong log-hut stood in the centre of this clearing, and divers emblems of civilization and occupation were strewed around it. what seemed most strange, to even the most inattentive of the hunters, was certain implements which are seldom seen in the midst of a forest. these were such implements as are used in the construction of railroads.
“hello!” yelled steve, glancing at all these implements, “hello! we have stumbled on a new railroad, have we? well, we ought to be able to find our way out now pretty easily; for railroads don’t spring up in wildernesses.”
“yes, we are just within the woods; outside we shall find the railroad and civilization,” will returned. “well, i don’t see much romance in getting lost for an hour or so.”
“hello, what is this?” steve cried suddenly. “here is a neat little tube, something like a cartridge. now, is it a cartridge?”
“be careful, steve,” will cautioned. “there is no knowing what dangerous things may be lying about here. i remember, when i was a pretty little boy, my father told me horrible stories about gun-cotton. he made it out to be a frightful explosive, in order to deter me from meddling with things strange to me. now, perhaps—”
but at this point the prudent one was interrupted by a shout of laughter from charles. “will,” he said, “what do you mean by ‘a pretty little boy?’ do you mean, when you were a handsome, though diminutive, urchin, or simply, when you were rather small?”
george now drew on his knowledge, and prepared to enlighten them. “gun-cotton, boys,” he said, “is a composition which con—”
doubtless george would have given a very lucid explanation of the nature and virtues of gun-cotton; but at this point, steve, who still held the little “tube,” said impatiently, “now, what do i care about gun-cotton? there is no cotton here, and as for a gun—go to grass! this tube can be made to fit the blunt end of my pencil, very neatly; and what is more, it shall be put there.”
[366]
“why, steve, i didn’t give you credit for being so sensible,” henry observed. “i didn’t believe you were studious enough to carry a pencil.”
“oh,” charles ingeniously replied, “steve doesn’t carry a pencil for studious purposes; i doubt whether he ever takes notes; but whenever he finds a clean and smooth surface,—such as a new shingle or a solid fence built of newly planed boards,—he draws his name, or a mythological figure, or the phantom ship, on it, with dazzling flourishes.”
“draws his name, eh?” asked henry.
“exactly.”
“well,” sighed steve, “it is one of the few things i can do well.”
with that he took out his penknife.
he was not the only one that had found one of the little tubes. for some minutes jim had been silently filling his coat pocket with them, intending to take them home. it is not easy for us to guess his object in doing this, but perhaps the poor fellow, despairing of shooting anything, wished to bear away some trophy, or souvenir, of this hunt.
george, seeing all this, and that his proffered explanation was contemptuously rejected, resolved to make an “analysis;” but, acting on the spur of the moment, he went about it in a very puerile way. he set one of the mysterious little tubes on a flat stone, then seized a smaller stone, and prepared to grind his particular tube to powder.
truly, here was genius laboring under difficulties! here was a scientific philosopher endeavoring to solve the appalling mystery by utterly annihilating a tube! but his hand was so unsteady with the awfulness of the revelations he was about to make that (fortunately for him) his first blow overshot the mark, and he paused before aiming a second.
meanwhile mr. lawrence, charles, and will, expostulated in vain. henry, not dreaming of danger, looked on with great curiosity, and was almost tempted to examine some of the mysterious little tubes for himself.
[367]
all this happened simultaneously? certainly. just as george struck his fruitless blow, steve began to carve out the ornament for his pencil.
reader, do not look upon this scene as savoring of levity. this incident is true in every particular, a party of would-be hunters having experimented with little cartridge-like tubes just as our heroes did here. the story as told by them is the same in substance with this, though, of course, we have touched it up a little here and there.
having thus kept the reader in suspense long enough, it is now in order to return to stephen. he had barely begun to “dig out the stuff,” as he phrased it, when a loud report startled the eight hunters. steve’s tube had exploded with more violence than any fire-cracker he ever handled.
appalled, his penknife fell unheeded, and he gazed at the others with a silly, bewildered, and horrified expression of countenance, that at any other time would have provoked a roar of laughter.
george’s second blow was never struck, but springing to his feet, he fixed his eyes on will with a look of extreme horror.
will’s actions, in fact, attracted the attention of all. as soon as the tube exploded he sprang high into the air, and then fell to bounding about like a harlequin or a piece of black rubber, shouting frantically: “oh, my head’s off! my head’s off! my head’s off!”
his head was certainly not off, though blood was streaming down his cheeks.
“oh, will,” groaned steve in agony, “what is the matter? oh, will, speak! have i killed you?”
“my head’s off! my head’s off!” was will’s only answer.
“nonsense! your head is all right!” uncle dick said sharply.
but now will struck another note, groaned “oh, my knee!” and fell down in a swoon. foolish fellow, he had danced till his knee slipped out of joint.
(n.b.—o youth, let this be a warning against dancing.)
[368]
mr. lawrence and george anxiously bent over him; and, for the first time, charles and stephen looked at each other.
“your face!” shrieked steve.
“your fingers!” gasped charles.
then poor steve perceived that his thumb and first and second fingers were shattered. it was a sickening sight, and he now felt a severe pain in them.
from his fingers stephen again looked at charles. several small pieces of the metal had pierced the flesh around the eyes, making painful, but very slight, wounds.
at that instant jim set up his peculiar cry of terror. poor wretch, his terror and his mode of expressing it still clung to him; but it was a hundred times more ridiculous in the man than in the boy. the explosion (if it may be called so) and will’s amusing performance, cut short by his sad accident, had kept him quiet up to this time, but now he broke out into loud and plaintive cries. this time, however, he was not a prey to “the chills.”
“oh, boys,” he wailed, “i have some of them—a lot of them—in my pocket! oh, boys, they will explode there! they will explode and tear us all to pieces!” and here his voice increased in volume, and rose higher and higher, faster than even the scale of c. “help me, some one, for i can’t get ’em out!—oh! i explode!”
“console yourself, jim,” henry laughed; “i’ll help you to disgorge them.”
“have you any about you?” jim quavered.
“no,” said henry; and with that he took the explosive little tubes out of timor’s pocket.
“boys, mr. lawrence, i know now what these horrible, cartridge-like tubes are,” george here observed. “they are dynamite—a new explosive, very useful to fire other explosives, i believe. i have read about them lately, but i never saw one before, and don’t know much about their properties, except that—”
“george,” steve interrupted, “if you had told us all this ten minutes ago, you would have spared us much annoyance and suffering. excuse me, george, but this has roiled my emotions more than anything that ever[369] happened. yes, you have knowledge of sundry curious and useful facts, i admit; but that knowledge is not turned to account till the mischief is done. some day, when you see me all torn to pieces, you will discover that what i took for a pretty music-box was an infernal machine; and then you will chuckle over your profundity, but i shall not hear you.”
“well, they had no business to leave dynamites scattered about so loosely,” charles said, his eyes tingling just enough to make him surly.
“had we any business to meddle with them?” george growled.
“oh,” sighed will, now revived, “i’m afraid i made an egregious fool of myself; and i was probably the least hurt of all. some pieces entered my ears, cheek, and neck;—an ordinary hurt for a little boy;—but through my foolishness i have disjointed my knee!”
marmaduke now joined them. he had taken the affair most unconcernedly, and strolled off to make a reconnaissance.
“boys,” he began, “we are within four or five rods of a railroad, surely enough; and we have been meddling with the company’s dynamite. but if we had observed the notice on the other side of the little log-hut, or store-house, we should certainly have been more careful; for there, on the door, is written, in red-chalky letters, ‘powder magazine.’”
“marmaduke, it seems to me that your style is not so pure as of yore,” steve grinned, in spite of his pain. “the animals in this forest have corrupted it. ‘red-chalky-letters,’ forsooth!”
“i found, also,” marmaduke continued, passing by stephen’s taunt, “that the shortest route to a surgeon’s is due east, through the forest. we can easily reach him by following our compasses.”
“did you inquire of some one outside?” george asked.
“yes, george, i had a talk with a man there. now, steve and will must have their hurts dressed as soon as may be; so let us start. will will have to be carried, of course.”
[370]
steve shuddered. the name surgeon had an unpleasant sound; it grated his ears. then he perceived that marmaduke had been caring for his comfort, and his conscience was stung with remorse. acting on the impulse of his better nature, he strode up to marmaduke, grasped his hand, and murmured: “old fellow, you must forgive me, and not mind anything i say; for i don’t mean it, i assure you. it is too bad for me to be continually jeering at you in particular, marmaduke, and from to-day i will try not to do it again.”
notwithstanding steve’s protestation that he did not mean what he said, marmaduke saw he was in earnest now, and replied: “say no more about it, steve, for each of us has his little peculiarities. now, sit down here, beside me and i’ll bind up your hurt for you.”
then the two sat down together, and marmaduke took off the handkerchief which stephen had hastily and clumsily wound round his thumb and fingers. abused marmaduke had many gentle ways, and now he tore the handkerchief into strips, and as neatly and carefully as a woman could have done it, bound up each hurt separate, steve awkwardly trying to help him.
this incident of binding up his hurts so kindly touched stephen’s heart, and from that day the two have been firm friends. stephen is now marmaduke’s sworn defender; and if any person brings up the latter’s romantic notions with a view to make him appear ridiculous, stephen will say something so sarcastic that the aggressor will wince and immediately speak of something else.
meanwhile the others were taking care of charles and will.
