[Illustration]
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WHAT MIGHT HAVE
BEEN EXPECTED
By
Frank R. Stockton
New York
Dodd, Mead and Company
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright, 1874, by Dodd & Mead
Copyright, 1902, by Marian E. Stockton
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Harry Loudon Makes Up His Mind. 9
II. The Adoption. 15
III. Commencing Business. 21
IV. Kate, very naturally, is Anxious. 30
V. The Turkey-Hunter. 38
VI. Tony Strikes Out. 47
VII. Aunt Matilda's Christmas. 58
VIII. A Lively Team. 71
IX. Business in Earnest. 85
X. A Meeting on the Road. 97
XI. Rob. 103
XII. Tony on the War-path. 112
XIII. Cousin Maria. 118
XIV. Harry's Grand Scheme. 124
XV. The Council. 135
XVI. Company Business. 143
XVII. Principally Concerning Kate. 154
XVIII. The Arrival. 164
XIX. Constructing the Line. 172
XX. An Important Meeting of the Board. 181
XXI. A Last Resort. 189
XXII. A Quandary. 194
XXIII. Crossing the Creek. 202
XXIV. The First Business Telegrams. 210
XXV. Profits and Projects. 225
XXVI. A Grand Proposition. 237
XXVII. How Something Came to an End. 246
XXVIII. A Meeting. 253
XXIX. Once more in the Woods. 257
XXX. A Girl and a Gun. 264
XXXI. A Man in a Boat. 271
XXXII. Aunt Matilda's Letter. 277
XXXIII. Time to Stop. 286
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WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN EXPECTED.
CHAPTER I.
HARRY LOUDON MAKES UP HIS MIND.
On a wooden bench under a great catalpa-tree, in the front yard of a
comfortable country-house in Virginia, sat Harry and Kate Loudon
worrying their minds. It was all about old Aunt Matilda.
Aunt Matilda was no relation of these children. She was an old colored
woman, who lived in a cabin about a quarter of a mile from their house,
but they considered her one of their best friends. Her old log cabin was
their favorite resort, and many a fine time they had there. When they
caught some fish, or Harry shot a bird or two, or when they could get
some sweet potatoes or apples to roast, and some corn-meal for
ash-cakes, they would take their provisions to Aunt Matilda and she
would cook them. Sometimes an ash-cake would be baked rather harder than
it was convenient to bite, and it had happened that a fish or two had
been cooked entirely away, but such mishaps were not common. Aunt
Matilda was indeed a most wonderful cook--and a cook, too, who liked to
have a boy and a girl by her while she was at work; and who would tell
them stories--as queer old stories as ever were told--while the things
were cooking. The stories were really the cause of the ash-cakes and
fish sometimes being forgotten.
And it is no wonder that these children were troubled in their minds.
They had just heard that Aunt Matilda was to go to the alms-house.
Harry and Kate were silent. They had mourned over the news, and Kate had
cried. There was nothing more to be done about it, so far as she could
see.
But all of a sudden Harry jumped up. "I tell you what it is Kate," he
exclaimed; "I've made up my mind! Aunt Matilda is not going to the
alms-house. I will support her myself!"
"Oh, that will be splendid!" cried Kate; "but you can never do it!"
"Yes, I can," said Harry. "There are ever so many ways in which I can
earn money."
"What are you going to do?" said Kate; "will you let me help?"
"Yes," said her brother; "you may help if you can, but I don't think you
will be of much use. As for me, I shall do plenty of things. I shall go
out with my gun--"
"But there is nothing to shoot, now in the summer-time," said Kate.
"No, there isn't much yet, to be sure," said her brother, "but before
very long there will be partridges and hares, plenty of them; and father
and Captain Caseby will buy all I shoot. And you see, until it is time
for game I'm going to gather sumac."
"Oh! I can help you in that," cried Kate.
"Yes, I believe you can," said her brother. "And now, suppose we go down
and see Aunt Matilda, and have a talk with her about it."
"Just wait until I get my bonnet," said Kate. And she dashed into the
house, and then, with a pink calico sun-bonnet on her head, she came
down the steps in two jumps, and the brother and sister, together,
hurried through the woods to Aunt Matilda's cabin.
Harry and Kate Loudon were well-educated children, and, in many
respects, knew more than most girls and boys who were older than they.
Harry had been taught by his father to ride and to swim and to shoot as
carefully as his school-teacher had taught him to spell and to parse.
And he was not only taught to be skillful in these outdoor pursuits, but
to be prudent, and kind-hearted. When he went gunning, he shot birds and
game that were fit for the table; and when he rode, he remembered that
his horse had feelings as well as himself. Being a boy of good natural
impulses, he might have found out these things for himself; but, for
fear that he might be too long about it, his father carefully taught him
that it was possible to shoot and to hunt and to ride without being
either careless or cruel. It must not be supposed that Harry was so
extremely particular that there was no fun in him, for he had discovered
that there is just as much fun in doing things right as in doing them
wrong; and as there was not a boy in all the country round about who
could ride or swim or shoot so well as Harry, so there was none who had
a more generally jolly time than he.
His sister Kate was a sharp, bright, intelligent girl, rather inclined
to be wild when opportunity offered; but very affectionate, and always
as ready for outdoor sports as any boy. She could not shoot--at least,
she never tried--and she did not ride much on horseback, but she
enjoyed fishing, and rambles through the woods were to her a constant
delight. When anything was to be done, especially if it was anything
novel, Kate was always ready to help. If anybody had a plan on hand, it
was very hard to keep her finger out of it; and if there were
calculations to be made, it was all the better. Kate had a fine head for
mathematics, and, on the whole, she rather preferred a slate and pencil
to needles and spool-cotton.
As to Aunt Matilda, there could be no doubt about her case being a
pretty hard one. She was quite old and decrepit when the war set her
free, and, at the time of our story, she was still older and stiffer.
Her former master had gone to the North to live, and as she had no
family to support her, the poor old woman was compelled to depend upon
the charity of her neighbors. For a time she managed to get along
tolerably well, but it was soon found that she would suffer if she
depended upon occasional charity, especially after she became unable to
go after food or help. Mr. and Mrs. Loudon were very willing to give her
what they could, but they had several poor people entirely dependent
upon them, and they found it impossible to add to the number of their
pensioners. So it was finally determined among the neighbors that Aunt
Matilda would have to go to the alms-house, which place was provided for
just such poor persons as she. Neither Harry nor Kate knew much about
the alms-house, but they thought it must be some sort of a horrible
place; and, at any rate, it was too hard that Aunt Matilda should have
to leave her old home where she had spent so many, many years.
And they did not intend she should do it.
CHAPTER II.
THE ADOPTION.
When the children reached Aunt Matilda's cabin, they found the old woman
seated by a very small fire, which was burning in one corner of the
hearth.
"Are you cold, Aunt Matilda?" asked Kate.
"Lor' bless you, no, honey! But you see there wasn't hardly any coals
left, and I was tryin' to keep the fire alive till somebody would come
along and gather me up some wood."
"Then you were going to cook your breakfast, I suppose," said Harry.
"Yes, child, if somebody 'ud come along and fetch me something to eat."
"Haven't you anything at all in the house?" asked Kate.
"Not a pinch o' meal, nor nothin' else," said the old woman; "but I
'spected somebody 'ud be along."
"Did you know, Aunt Matilda," said Harry, "that they are going to send
you to the alms-house?"
"Yes; I heerd 'em talk about it," said Aunt Matilda, shaking her head;
"but the alms-house ain't no place for me."
"That's so!" said Kate, quickly. "And you're not going there, either!"
"No," said Harry: "Kate and I intend to take care of you for the rest of
your life."
"Lor', children, you can't do it!" said the old woman, looking in
astonishment from one to the other of these youngsters who proposed to
adopt her.
"Yes; but we can," said Harry. "Just you wait and see."
"It'll take a good deal o' money," said the old woman, who did not seem
to be altogether satisfied with the prospects held out before her.
"More'n you all will ever be able to git."
"How much money would be enough for you to live on, Aunt Matilda?" asked
Harry.
"Dunno. Takes a heap o' money to keep a person."
"Well, now," said Kate, "let's see exactly how much it will take. Have
you a pencil, Harry? I have a piece of paper in my pocket, I think. Yes;
here it is. Now, let's set down everything, and see what it comes to."
So saying, she sat down on a low stool with her paper on her knees, and
her pencil in her hand.
"What shall we begin with?" said she.
"We'll begin with corn-meal," said Harry. "How much corn-meal do you eat
in a week, Aunt Matilda?"
"Dunno," said she, "'spect about a couple o' pecks."
"Oh, Aunt Matilda!" cried Kate, "our whole family wouldn't eat two pecks
in a week."
"Well, then, a half-peck," said she; "'pends a good deal on how many is
living in a house."
"Yes; but we only mean this for you, Aunt Matilda. We don't mean it for
anybody else."
"Well, then, I reckon a quarter of a peck would do, for jest me."
"We will allow you a peck," said Harry, "and that will be twenty-five
cents a week. Set that down, Kate."
"All right," said Kate. And she set down at the top of the paper, "Meal,
25 cents."
The children proceeded in this way to calculate how much bacon,
molasses, coffee, and sugar would suffice for Aunt Matilda's support;
and they found that the cost, per week, at the rates of the country
stores, with which they were both familiar, would be seventy-seven and
three-quarter cents.
"Is there anything else, Aunt Matilda?" asked Kate.
"Nuffin I can think on," said Aunt Matilda, "'cept milk."
"Oh, I can get that for nothing," said Kate. "I will bring it to you
from home; and I will bring you some butter too, when I can get it."
"And I'll pick up wood for you," said Harry. "I can gather enough in the
woods in a couple of hours to last you for a week."
"Lor' bless you, chil'en," said Aunt Matilda, "I hope you'll be able to
do all dat."
Harry stood quiet a few minutes, reflecting.
"How much would seventy-seven and three quarter cents a week amount to
in a year, Kate?" said he.
Kate rapidly worked out the problem, and answered: "Forty dollars and
forty-three cents."
"Lor'! but that's a heap o' money!" said Aunt Matilda. "That's more'n I
'spect to have all the rest of my life."
"How old are you, Aunt Matilda?" said Harry.
"I 'spect about fifty," said the old woman.
"Oh, Aunt Matilda!" cried Harry, "you're certainly more than fifty. When
I was a very little fellow, I remember that you were very old--at
least, sixty or seventy."
"Well, then, I 'spects I'se about ninety," said Aunt Matilda.
"But you can't be ninety!" said Kate. "The Bible says that seventy years
is the common length of a person's life."
"Them was Jews," said Aunt Matilda. "It didn't mean no cull'd people.
Cull'd people live longer than that. But p'raps a cull'd Jew wouldn't
live very long."
"Well," said Harry, "it makes no difference how old you are. We're going
to take care of you for the rest of your life."
Kate was again busy with her paper.
"In five years, Harry," she said, "It will be two hundred and two
dollars and fifteen cents."
"Lor'!" cried Aunt Matilda, "you chil'en will nebber git dat."
"But we don't have to get it all at once, Aunt Matilda," said Harry,
laughing; "and you needn't be afraid that we can't do it. Come, Kate,
it's time for us to be off."
And then the conference broke up. The question of Aunt Matilda's future
support was settled. They had forgotten clothes, to be sure; but it is
very difficult to remember everything.
CHAPTER III.
COMMENCING BUSINESS.
When they reached home, Harry and Kate put together what little money
they had, and found that they could buy food enough to last Aunt Matilda
for several days. This Harry procured and carried down to the old woman
that day. He also gathered and piled up inside of her cabin a good
supply of wood. Fortunately, there was a spring very near her door, so
that she could get water without much trouble.
Harry and Kate determined that they would commence business in earnest
the next morning, and, as this was not the season for game, they
determined to go to work to gather sumac-leaves.
Most of us are familiar with the sumac-bush, which grows nearly all over
the United States. Of course we do not mean the poisonous swamp-sumac,
but that which grows along the fences and on the edges of the woods. Of
late years the leaves of this bush have been greatly in demand for
tanning purposes, and, in some States, especially in Virginia, sumac
gathering has become a very important branch of industry, particularly
with the negroes; many of whom, during the sumac season, prefer
gathering these leaves to doing any other kind of work. The sumac-bush
is quite low, and the leaves are easily stripped off. They are then
carefully dried, and packed in bags, and carried to the nearest place of
sale, generally a country store.
The next morning, Harry and Kate made preparations for a regular
expedition. They were to take their dinner, and stay all day. Kate was
enraptured--even more so, perhaps, than Harry. Each of them had a large
bag, and Harry carried his gun, for who could tell what they might meet
with? A mink, perhaps, or a fox, or even a beaver! They had a long walk,
but it was through the woods, and there was always something to see in
the woods. In a couple of hours, for they stopped very often, they
reached a little valley, through which ran Crooked Creek. And on the
banks of Crooked Creek were plenty of sumac-bushes. This place was at
some distance from any settlement, and apparently had not been visited
by sumac gatherers.
"Hurra!" cried Kate, "here is enough to fill a thousand bags!"
Harry leaned his gun against a tree, and hung up his shot and powder
flasks, and they both went to work gathering sumac. There was plenty of
it, but Kate soon found that what they saw would not fill a thousand
bags. There were a good many bushes, but they were small; and, when all
the leaves were stripped off one, and squeezed into a bag, they did not
make a very great show. However, they did very well, and, for an hour or
so, they worked on merrily. Then they had dinner. Harry built a fire. He
easily found dry branches, and he had brought matches and paper with
him. At a little distance under a great pine-tree, Kate selected a level
place, and cleared away the dead leaves and the twigs, leaving a smooth
table of dry and fragrant pine-needles. On this she spread the cloth,
which was a napkin. Then she took from the little basket she had brought
with her a cake of corn-meal, several thick and well-buttered slices of
wheat bread, some hard-boiled eggs, a little paper of pepper and salt, a
piece of cheese, and some fried chicken. When this was spread out (and
it would not all go on the cloth), Harry came, and looked at the repast.
"What is there to cook?" said he.
Kate glanced over her table, with a perplexed look upon her countenance,
and said, "I don't believe there is anything to cook."
"But we ought to cook something," said Harry. "Here is a splendid fire.
What's the good of camping out if you don't cook things?"
"But everything is cooked," said Kate.
"So it seems," said Harry, in a somewhat discouraged tone. Had he built
that beautiful fire for nothing? "We ought to have brought along
something raw," said he. "It is ridiculous eating a cold dinner, with a
splendid fire like that."
"We might catch some fish," said Kate; "we should have to cook _them_."
"Yes," said Harry, "but I brought no lines."
So, as there was nothing else to be done, they ate their dinner cold,
and when they had finished, Kate cleared off the table by giving the
napkin a flirt, and they were ready for work again. But first they went
to look for a spring, where they could get a drink. In about half an
hour they found a spring, and some wild plums, and some blackberries,
and a grape-vine (which would surely be full of grapes in the fall, and
was therefore a vine to be remembered), and a stone, which Kate was
quite certain was an Indian arrow-head, and some tracks in the white
sand, which must have been made by some animal or other, although
neither of them was able to determine exactly what animal.
When they returned to the pine-tree, Kate took up her bag. Harry
followed her example, but somewhat slowly, as if he were thinking of
something else.
"I tell you, Harry," said Kate, "suppose you take your gun and go along
the creek and see what that was that made the tracks. If it was anything
with fur on it, it would come to more than the sumac. I will stay here,
and go on filling my bag."
"Well," said Harry, after a moment's hesitation, "I might go a little
way up the creek. I needn't be gone long. I would certainly like to find
that creature, if I can."
"All right," said Kate; "I think you'll find it."
So Harry loaded his gun, and hurried off to find the tracks of the
mysterious, and probably fur-covered animal.
Kate worked away cheerfully, singing a little song, and filling her bag
with the sumac-leaves. It was now much warmer, and she began to find
that sumac picking, all alone, was not very interesting, and she hoped
that Harry would soon find his animal, whatever it was. Then, after
picking a little longer, she thought she would sit down, and rest
awhile. So she dragged her bag to the pine-tree, and sat down, leaning
her back against the tall trunk. She took her bag of sumac in her arms,
and lifted it up, trying to estimate its weight.
"There must be ten pounds here!" she said, "No--it don't feel very
heavy, but then there are so many of the leaves. It ought to weigh
fifteen pounds. And they will be a cent a pound if we take pay in trade,
and three-quarters of a cent if we want cash. But, of course, we will
take things in trade."
And then she put down the bag, and began to calculate.
"Fifteen pounds, fifteen cents, and at seventy-seven and three-quarter
cents per week, that would support Aunt Matilda nearly a day and a half;
and then, if Harry has as much more, that will keep her almost three
days; and if we pick for two hours longer, when Harry comes back, we may
get ten pounds more apiece, which will make it pretty heavy; but then we
won't have to come again for nearly five days; and if Harry shoots an
otter, I reckon he can get a dollar for the skin--or a pair of gloves
of it--kid gloves, and my pink dress--and we'll go in the
carriage--two horses--four horses--a prince with a feather--some
butterflies--" and Kate was asleep.
When Kate awoke, she saw by the sun that she had been asleep for several
hours. She sprang to her feet. "Where is Harry?" she cried. But nobody
answered. Then she was frightened, for he might be lost. But soon she
reflected that that was very ridiculous, for neither of them could be
lost in that neighborhood which they knew so well. Then she sat down and
waited, quite anxiously, it must be admitted. But Harry did not come,
and the sun sank lower. Presently she rose with an air of determination.
"I can't wait any longer," she said, "or it will be dark before I get
home. Harry has followed that thing up the creek ever so far, and there
is no knowing when he will get back, and it won't do for me to stay
here. I'll go home, and leave a note for him."
She put her hand in her pocket, and there was Harry's pencil, which she
had borrowed in the morning and forgot to return, and also the piece of
paper on which she had made her calculation of the cost of Aunt
Matilda's board. The back of this would do very well for a note. So she
wrote on it:
I am going home, for it is getting late. I shall go back by the same
road we came. Your sumac-bag is in the bushes between the tree and
the creek. Bring this piece of paper with you, as it has Aunt
Matilda's expenses on the outside.
Kate.
This note she pinned up against the pine tree, where Harry could not
fail to see it. Then she hid her brother's sumac-bag in the bushes and,
shouldering her own bag, which, by-the-way, did not weigh so many pounds
as she thought it did, set out for home.
CHAPTER IV.
KATE, VERY NATURALLY, IS ANXIOUS.
Kate hurried through the woods, for she was afraid she would not reach
home until after dark, and indeed it was then quite like twilight in the
shade of the great trees around her. The road on which she was walking
was, however, clear and open, and she was certain she knew the way. As
she hastened on, she could not help feeling that she was wasting this
delightful walk through the woods. Her old friends were around her, and
though she knew them all so well, she could not stop to spend any time
with them. There were the oaks--the black-oak with its shining
many-pointed leaves, the white-oak with its lighter green though
duller-hued foliage, and the chestnut-oak with its long and thickly
clustered leaves. Then there were the sweet-gums, fragrant and
star-leaved, and the black-gum, tough, dark, and unpretending. No little
girl in the county knew more about the trees of her native place than
Kate; for she had made good use of her long rides through the country
with her father. Here were the chincapin-bushes, like miniature
chestnut-trees, and here were the beautiful poplars. She knew them by
their bright leaves, which looked as though they had been snipped off at
the top with a pair of scissors. And here, right in front of her, was
Uncle Braddock. She knew him by his many-colored dressing-gown, without
which he never appeared in public. It was one of the most curious
dressing-gowns ever seen, as Uncle Braddock was one of the most curious
old colored men ever seen. The gown was not really as old as its wearer,
but it looked older. It was composed of about a hundred pieces of
different colors and patterns--red, green, blue, yellow, and brown;
striped, spotted, plain, and figured with flowers and vines. These
pieces, from year to year, had been put on as patches, and some of them
were quilted on, and some were sewed, and some were pinned. The gown was
very long and came down to Uncle Braddock's heels, which were also very
long and bobbed out under the bottom of the gown as if they were trying
to kick backward. But Uncle Braddock never kicked. He was very old and
he had all the different kinds of rheumatism, and walked bent over
nearly at right-angles, supporting himself by a long cane like a
bean-pole, which he grasped in the middle. There was probably no
particular reason why he should bend over so very much, but he seemed to
like to walk in that way, and nobody objected. He was a good old soul,
and Kate was delighted to see him.
"Uncle Braddock!" she cried.
The old man stopped and turned around, almost standing up straight in
his astonishment at seeing the young girl alone in the woods.
"Why, Miss Kate!" he exclaimed, as she came up with him, "what in the
world is you doin' h'yar?"
"I've been gathering sumac," said Kate, as they walked on together, "and
Harry's gone off, and I couldn't wait any longer and I'm just as glad as
I can be to see you, Uncle Braddock, for I was beginning to be afraid,
because its getting dark so fast, and your dressing-gown looked prettier
to me than all the trees when I first caught sight of it. But I think
you ought to have it washed, Uncle Braddock."
"Wash him!" said Uncle Braddock, with a chuckle, as if the suggestion
was a very funny joke; "dat wouldn't do, no how. He'd wash all to bits,
and the pins would stick 'em in the hands. Couldn't wash him, Miss Kate;
it's too late for dat now. Might have washed him before de war, p'raps.
We was stronger, den. But what you getherin sumac for, Miss Kate? If you
white folks goes pickin it all, there won't be none lef' soon fur de
cull'ed people, dat's mighty certain."
"Why, I'm picking it for the colored people," said Kate, "at least for
one colored person."
"Why don't you let 'em pick it the'rselves?" asked the old man.
"Because Aunt Matilda can't do it," said Kate.
"Is dat sumac fur Aunt Matilda?" said Uncle Braddock.
"Yes, it is," said Kate, "and Harry's been gathering some, and we're
going to pick enough to get her all she wants. Harry and I intend to
take care of her now. You know they were going to send her to the
alms-house."
"Well, I declar!" exclaimed the old man. "I neber did hear de like o'
dat afore. Why, you all isn't done bein' tuk care of you'selves." Kate
laughed, and explained their plans, getting quite enthusiastic about it.
"Lem me carry dat bag," said Uncle Braddock. "Oh no!" said Kate, "you're
too old to be carrying bags."
"Jis lem me hab it," said he; "it's trouble enuf fur me to get along,
anyway, and a bag or two don't make no kind o' dif'rence."
Kate found herself obliged to consent, and as the bag was beginning to
feel very heavy for her, and as it did not seem to make the slightest
difference, as he had said, to Uncle Braddock, she was very glad to be
rid of it.
But when at last they reached the village, and Uncle Braddock went over
the fields to his cabin, Kate ran into the house, carrying her bag with
ease, for she was excited by the hope that Harry had come home by some
shorter way, and that she should find him in the house.
But there was no Harry there. And soon it was night, and yet he did not
come.
Matters now looked serious, and about nine o'clock Mr. Loudon, with two
of the neighbors, started out into the woods to look for Aunt Matilda's
young guardian.
Kate's mother was away on a visit to her relations in another county,
and so the little girl passed the night on the sofa in the parlor, with
a colored woman asleep on the rug before the fireplace. Kate would not
go to bed. She determined to stay awake until Harry should come home.
But the sofa-cushions became more and more pleasant, and very soon she
was dreaming that Harry had shot a giraffe, and had skinned it, and had
stuffed the skin full of sumac-leaves, and that he and she were pulling
it through the woods, and that the legs caught in the trees and they
could not get it along, and then she woke up. It was bright daylight.
But Harry had not come!
There was no news. Mr. Loudon and his friends were still absent. Poor
Kate was in despair, and could not touch the breakfast, which was
prepared at the usual hour.
About nine o'clock a company of negro sumac gatherers appeared on the
road which passed Mr. Loudon's house. It was a curious party. On a rude
cart, drawn by two little oxen, was a pile of bags filled with
sumac-leaves, which were supported by poles stuck around the cart and
bound together by ropes. On the top of the pile sat a negro, plying a
long whip and shouting to the oxen. Behind the cart, and on each side of
it, were negroes, men and women, carrying huge bales of sumac on their
heads. Bags, pillow-cases, bed-ticks, sheets and coverlets had been
called into requisition to hold the precious leaves. Here was a woman
with a great bundle on her head, which sank down so as to almost
entirely conceal her face; and near her was an old man who supported on
his bare head a load that looked heavy enough for a horse. Even little
children carried bundles considerably larger than themselves, and all
were laughing and talking merrily as they made their way to the village
store at the cross-roads.
Kate ran eagerly out to question these people. They must certainly have
seen Harry.
The good-natured negroes readily stopped to talk with Kate. The
ox-driver halted his team, and every head-burdened man, woman, and child
clustered around her, until it seemed as if sumac clouds had spread
between her and the sky, and had obscured the sun.
But no one had seen Harry. In fact, this company, with the accumulated
proceeds of a week's sumac gathering, had come from a portion of the
county many miles from Crooked Creek, and of course, they could bring no
news to Kate.
CHAPTER V.
THE TURKEY-HUNTER.
When Harry left Kate, he quietly walked by the side of Crooked Creek,
keeping his eyes fixed on the tracks of the strange animal, and his
thumb on the hammer of the right-hand barrel of his gun. Before long the
tracks disappeared, and disappeared, too, directly in front of a hole in
the bank; quite a large hole, big enough for a beaver or an otter. This
was capital luck! Harry got down on his hands and knees and examined the
tracks. Sure enough, the toes pointed toward the hole. It must be in
there!
Harry cocked his gun and sat and waited. He was as still as a dead
mouse. There was no earthly reason why the creature should not come out,
except perhaps that it might not want to come out. At any rate, it could
not know that Harry was outside waiting for it.
He waited a long time without ever thinking how the day was passing on;
and it began to be a little darkish, just a little, before he thought
that perhaps he had better go back to Kate.
But it might be just coming out, and what a shame to move! A skin that
would bring five dollars was surely worth waiting for a little while
longer, and he might never have such another chance. He certainly had
never had such a one before.
And so he still sat and waited, and pretty soon he heard something. But
it was not in the hole--not near him at all. It was farther along the
creek, and sounded like the footsteps of some one walking stealthily.
Harry looked around quickly, and, about thirty yards from him, he saw a
man with a gun. The man was now standing still, looking steadily at him.
At least Harry thought he was, but there was so little light in the
woods by this time that he could not be sure about it. What was that man
after? Could he be watching him?
Harry was afraid to move. Perhaps the man mistook him for some kind of
an animal. To be sure, he could not help thinking that boys were
animals, but he did not suppose the man would want to shoot a boy, if he
knew it. But how could any one tell that Harry was a boy at that
distance, and in that light.
Poor Harry did not even dare to call out. He could not speak without
moving something, his lips any way, and the man might fire at the
slightest motion. He was so quiet that the musk-rat--it was a musk-rat
that lived in the hole--came out of his house, and seeing the boy so
still, supposed he was nothing of any consequence, and so trotted
noiselessly along to the water and slipped in for a swim. Harry never
saw him. His eyes were fixed on the man.
For some minutes longer--they seemed like hours--he remained
motionless. And then he could bear it no longer.
"Hel-low!" he cried.
"Hel-low!" said the man.
Then Harry got up trembling and pale, and the man came toward him.
"Why, I didn't know what you were," said the man.
"Tony Kirk!" exclaimed Harry. Yes, it was Tony Kirk, sure enough, a man
who would never shoot a boy--if he knew it.
"What are you doing here," asked Tony, "a-squattin' in the dirt at
supper-time?"
Harry told him what he was doing, and how he had been frightened, and
then the remark about supper-time made him think of his sister. "My
senses!" he cried, "there's Kate! she must think I'm lost."
"Kate!" exclaimed Tony. "What Kate? You don't mean your sister!"
"Yes, I do," said Harry; and away he ran down the shore of the creek.
Tony followed, and when he reached the big pine-tree, there was Harry
gazing blankly around him.
"She's gone!" faltered the boy.
"I should think so," said Tony, "if she knew what was good for her.
What's this?" His quick eyes had discovered the paper on the tree.
Tony pulled the paper from the pine trunk and tried to read it, but
Harry was at his side in an instant, and saw it was Kate's writing. It
was almost too dark to read it, but he managed, by holding it toward the
west, to make it out.
"She's gone home," he said, "and I must be after her;" and he prepared
to start.
"Hold up!" cried Tony; "I'm going that way. And so you've been getherin'
sumac." Harry had read the paper aloud. "There's no use o' leavin' yer
bag. Git it out o' the bushes, and come along with me."
Harry soon found his bag, and then he and Tony set out along the road.
"What are you after?" asked Harry.
"Turkeys," said Tony.
Tony Kirk was always after turkeys. He was a wild-turkey hunter by
profession. It is true there were seasons of the year when he did not
shoot turkeys, but although at such times he worked a little at farming
and fished a little, he nearly always found it necessary to do something
that related to turkeys. He watched their haunts, he calculated their
increase, he worked out problems which proved to him where he would find
them most plentiful in the fall, and his mind was seldom free from the
consideration of the turkey question.
"Isn't it rather early for turkeys?" asked Harry.
"Well, yes," said Tony, "but I'm tired o' waitin."
"I'm goin' to make a short cut," continued Tony, striking out of the
road into a narrow path in the woods. "You can save half a mile by
comin' this way."
So Harry followed him.
"I don't mind takin' you," said Tony, "fur I know you kin keep a secret.
My turkey-blind is over yander;" and as he said this he put his hand
into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of shelled corn, which he
began to scatter along the path, a grain or two at a time. After ten or
fifteen minutes' walking, Tony scattering corn all the way, they came to
a mass of oak and chestnut boughs, piled up on one side of the path like
a barrier. This was the turkey-blind. It was four or five feet high, and
behind it Tony was accustomed to sit in the early gray of the morning,
waiting for the turkeys which he hoped to entice that way by means of
his long line of shelled corn.
"You see I build my blind," said he to Harry, "and then I don't come
here till I've sprinkled my corn for about a week, and got the turkeys
used to comin' this way after it. Then I get back o' that thar at night
and wait till the airly mornin', when they're sartin to come gobblin'
along, till I can get a good crack at 'em." With this he sat down on a
log, which Harry could scarcely see, so dark was it in the woods by this
time.
"Are you tired?" said Harry.
"No," answered Tony; "I'm goin' to stop here. I want to be ready fur 'em
before it begins to be light."
"But how am I to get home?" said Harry.
"Oh, jist keep straight on in that track. It'll take yer straight to the
store, ef ye don't turn out uv it."
"Can't you come along and show me?" said Harry. "I can't find the way
through these dark woods."
"It's easy enough," said Tony, striking a match to light his pipe. "I
could find my way with my eyes shut. And it would not do fur me to go.
I'll make too much noise comin' back. There's no knowin' how soon the
turkeys will begin to stir about."
"Then you oughtn't to have brought me here," said Harry, much provoked.
"I wanted to show you a short way home," said Tony, puffing away at his
pipe.
Harry answered not a word, but set out along the path. In a minute or
two he ran against a tree; then he turned to the right and stumbled over
a root, dropping his bag and nearly losing his hold of his gun. He was
soon convinced that it was all nonsense to try to get home by that path,
and he slowly made his way back to Tony.
"I'll tell ye what it is," said the turkey-hunter, "ef you think you'd
hurt yerself findin' yer way home, and I thought you knew the woods
better than that, you might as well stay here with me. I'll take you
home bright an' airly. You needn't trouble yerself about yer sister.
She's home long ago. It must have been bright daylight when she wrote on
that paper, and she could keep the road easy enough."
Harry said nothing, but sat down on the other end of the log. Tony did
not seem to notice his vexation, but talked to him, explaining the
mysteries of turkey-hunting and the delight of spending a night in the
woods, where everything was so cool and dry and still. "There's no
nonsense here," said Tony. "Ef there's any place where a feller kin have
peace and comfert, it's in the woods, at night."
By degrees Harry became interested and forgot his annoyance. Kate was
certainly safe at home, and as it was impossible for him to find his way
out of the depths of the woods, he might as well be content. He could
not even hope to regain the road by the way they came.
When Tony had finished his pipe he took Harry behind his blind. "All you
have to do," said he, "is jist to peep over here and level your gun
along that path, keepin' yer eye fixed straight in front of you, and
after awhile you can begin to see things. Suppose that dark lump down
yander was a turkey. Just look at it long enough and you kin make it
out. You see what I mean, don't you?"
"Yes," said Harry, peeping over the blind; "I see it;" and then, with a
sudden jump, he whispered, "Tony! it's moving." Tony did not answer for
a moment, and then he hurriedly whispered back, "That's so! It _is_
moving."
CHAPTER VI.
TONY STRIKES OUT.
There was no doubt about it, something _was_ moving. There was a rise in
the ground a short distance in front of the turkey-blind, and a little
patch of dark sky was visible between the trees. Across this bit of sky
something dark was slowly passing.
"Ye kin see 'most anything in the darkest night," whispered Tony, "ef ye
kin only git the sky behind it. But that's no turkey."
"What do you think it is?" said Harry, softly. "It's big enough for a
turkey."
"Too big," said Tony. "Let's git after it. You slip along the path, and
I'll go round ahead of it. Feel yer way, and don't make no noise if ye
run agin anything. And mind this"--and here Tony spoke in one of the
most impressive of whispers--"don't you fire till yer _dead certain_
what it is."
With this Tony slipped away into the darkness, and Harry, grasping his
gun, set out to feel his way. He felt his way along the path for a short
time, and then he felt his way out of it. Then he crept into a low, soft
place, full of ferns, and out of that he carefully felt his way into a
big bush, where he knocked off his hat. When he found his hat, which
took him some time, he gradually worked himself out into a place where
the woods were a little more open, and there he caught another glimpse
of the sky just at the top of the ridge. There was something dark
against the sky, and Harry watched it for a long time. At last, as it
did not move at all, he came to the conclusion that it must be a bush,
and he was entirely correct. For an hour or two he quietly crept among
the trees, hoping he would either find the thing that was moving or get
back to the turkey-blind. Several times something that he was sure was
an "old har," as hares are often called in Virginia, rushed out of the
bushes near him; and once he heard a quick rustling among the dead
leaves that sounded as if it were made by a black snake, but it might as
well have been a Chinese pagoda on wheels, for all he could see of it.
At last he became very tired, and sat down to rest with his back against
a big tree. There he soon began to nod, and, without the slightest
intention of doing anything of the kind, he went to sleep just as
soundly as if he had been in his bed at home. And this was not at all
surprising, considering the amount of walking and creeping that he had
done that day and night.
When he awoke it was daylight. He sprang to his feet and found he was
very stiff in the legs, but that did not prevent him from running this
way and that to try and find some place in the woods with which he was
familiar. Before long he heard what he thought was something splashing
in water, and, making his way toward the sound, he pushed out on the
bank of Crooked Creek.
The creek was quite wide at this point, and out near the middle of it he
saw Tony's head. The turkey-hunter was swimming hand-overhand,
"dog-fashion," for the shore. Behind him was a boat, upside-down, which
seemed just on the point of sinking out of sight.
"Hel-low, there!" cried Harry; "what's the matter, Tony?"
Tony never answered a word, but spluttered and puffed, and struck out
slowly but vigorously for the bank.
"Wait a minute," cried Harry, wildly excited, "I'll reach you a pole."
But Tony did not wait, and Harry could find no pole. When he turned
around from his hurried search among the bushes, the turkey-hunter had
found bottom, and was standing with his head out of water. But the
bottom was soft and muddy, and he flopped about dolefully when he
attempted to walk to the bank. Harry reached his gun out toward him, but
Tony, with a quick jerk of his arm, motioned it away.
"I'd rather be drownded than shot," he spluttered. "I don't want no
gun-muzzles pinted at me. Take a-hold of that little tree, and then
reach me your hand."
Harry seized a young tree that grew on the very edge of the bank, and as
soon as Tony managed to flop himself near enough, Harry leaned over and
took hold of his outstretched hand and gave him a jerk forward with all
his strength. Over went Tony, splash on his face in the water, and Harry
came very near going in head-foremost on top of him. But he recovered
himself, and, not having loosed his grip of Tony's hand, he succeeded,
with a mighty effort, in dragging the turkey-hunter's head out of the
water; and, after a desperate struggle with the mud, Tony managed to get
on his feet again.
"I don't know," said he, blowing the water out of his mouth and shaking
his dripping head, "but what I'd 'most as lieve be shot as ducked that
way. Don't you jerk so hard again. Hold steady, and let me pull."
Harry took a still firmer grasp of the tree and "held steady," while
Tony gradually worked his feet through the sticky mud until he reached
the bank, and then he laboriously clambered on shore.
"How did it happen?" said Harry. "How did you get in the water?"
"Boat upsot," said Tony, seating himself, all dripping with water and
mud, upon the bank.
"Why, you came near being drowned," said Harry, anxiously.
"No I didn't," answered Tony, pulling a big bunch of weeds and rubbing
his legs with them "I kin swim well enough, but a fellar has a rough
time in the water with big boots on and his pockets full o' buck-shot."
"Couldn't you empty the shot out?" asked Harry.
"And lose it all?" asked Tony, with an aggrieved expression upon his
watery face.
"But how did it happen?" Harry earnestly inquired. "What were you doing
in the boat?"
Tony did not immediately answer. He rubbed at his legs, and then he
tried to wipe his face with his wet coat-sleeve, but finding that only
made matters worse, he accepted Harry's offer of his handkerchief, and
soon got his countenance into talking order.
"Why, you see," said he, "I kept on up the creek till I got opposite
John Walker's cabin, where it's narrow, and there's a big tree a-lyin'
across--"
"Still following that thing?" interrupted Harry.
"Yes," said Tony; "an' then I got over on the tree and kep' down the
creek--"
"Still following?" asked Harry.
"Yes; and I got a long ways down, and had one bad tumble, too, in a
dirty little gully; and it was pretty nigh day when I turned to come
back. An' then when I got up here I thought I would look fur John
Walker's boat--fur I knew he kept it tied up somewhere down this
way--and save myself all that walk. I found the ole boat--"
"And how did it upset?" said Harry.
"Humph!" said Tony; "easy enough. I hadn't nuthin to row with but a bit
o' pole, and I got a sorter cross a-gettin' along so slow, and so I
stood up and gin a big push, and one foot slipped, an' over she went."
"And in you went!" said Harry.
"Yes--in I went. I don't see what ever put John Walker up to makin'
sich a boat as that. It's jist the meanest, lopsidedest, low-borndedst
boat I ever did see."
"I don't wonder you think so," said Harry, laughing; "but if I were you,
I'd go home as soon as I could, and get some dry clothes."
"That's so," said Tony, rising; "these feel like the inside of an
eelskin."
"Oh, Tony!" said Harry as they walked along up the creek, "did you find
out what that thing was?"
"Yes, I did," answered Tony.
"And what was it?"
"It was Captain Caseby."
"Captain Caseby?" cried Harry.
"Yes; jist him, and nuthin' else. It was his head we seen agin the sky,
as he was a-walkin' on the other side of that little ridge."
"Captain Caseby!" again ejaculated Harry in his amazement.
"Yes, sir!" said Tony; "an' I'm glad I found it out before I crossed the
creek, for my gun wasn't no further use, an' it was only in my way, so I
left it in the bushes up here. Ef it hadn't been for that, the ole rifle
would ha' been at the bottom of the creek."
"But what was Captain Caseby doing here in the woods at night?" asked
Harry.
"Dunno," said Tony; "I jist follered him till I made sure he wasn't
a-huntin for my turkey-blind, and then I let him go long. His business
wasn't no consarn o' mine."
When Tony and Harry had nearly reached the village, who should they
meet, at a cross-road in the woods, but Mr. Loudon and Captain Caseby!
"Ho, ho!" cried the captain "where on earth have you been? Here I've
been a-hunting you all night."
"You have, have you?" said Tony, with a chuckle; "and Harry and I've
been a-huntin' you all night, too."
Everybody now began to talk at once. Harry's father was so delighted to
find his boy again, that he did not care to explain anything, and he and
Harry walked off together.
But Captain Caseby told Tony all about it. How he, Mr. Loudon, and old
Mr. Wagner, had set out to look for Harry; how Mr. Wagner soon became so
tired that he had to give up, and go home, and how Mr. Loudon had gone
through the woods to the north, while he kept down by the creek,
searching on both sides of the stream, and how they had both walked, and
walked, and walked all night, and had met at last down by the river.
"How did you manage to meet Mr. Loudon?" asked Tony.
"I heard him hollerin'," said the captain.
"He hollered pretty near all night, he told me."
"Why didn't you holler?" Tony asked.
'Oh, I never exercise my voice in the night air,' said the captain.
"It's against my rules."
"Well, you'd better break your rules next time you go out in the woods
where Harry is," said the turkey-hunter, "or he'll pop you over for a
turkey or a musk-rat. He's a sharp shot, I kin tell ye."
"You don't really mean he was after me last night with a gun!" exclaimed
Captain Caseby.
"He truly was," declared Tony; "he was a-trackin' you his Sunday best.
It was bad for you that it was so dark that he couldn't see what you
was; but it might have been worse for ye if it hadn't been so dark that
he couldn't find ye at all."
"I'm glad I didn't know it," said the captain earnestly; "thoroughly and
completely glad I didn't know it. I should have yelled all the skin off
my throat, if I'd have known he was after me with a gun."
After Harry had been home an hour or two, and Kate had somewhat
recovered from her transports of joy, and everybody in the village had
heard all about everything that had happened, and Captain Caseby had
declared, in the bosom of his family, that he would never go out into
the woods again at night without keeping up a steady "holler," Harry
remembered that he had left his sumac-bag somewhere in the woods. Hard
work for a whole day and a night, and nothing to show for it! Rather a
poor prospect for Aunt Matilda.
CHAPTER VII.
AUNT MATILDA'S CHRISTMAS.
When Harry and Kate held council that afternoon, their affairs looked a
little discouraging. Kate's sumac was weighed, and it was only seven
pounds! Seven whole cents, if they took it out in trade, or five and a
quarter cents, as Kate calculated, if they took cash. A woman as large
as Aunt Matilda could not be supported on that kind of an income, it was
plain enough.
But our brave boy and girl were not discouraged. Harry went after his
bag the next day, and found it with about ten pounds of leaves in it.
Then, for a week or two, he and his sister worked hard and sometimes
gathered as much as twenty-five pounds of leaves in a day. But they had
their bad days, when there was a great deal of walking and very little
picking.
And then, in due course of time, school began and the sumac season was
at an end, for the leaves are not merchantable after they begin to turn
red, although they are then a great deal prettier to look at.
But then Harry went out early in the morning, and on Saturdays, and shot
hares and partridges, and Kate began to sell her chickens, of which she
had twenty-seven (eighteen died natural deaths, or were killed by
weasels during the summer), they found that they made more money than
they could have made by sumac gathering.
