CHAPTER FIVE.
HOW MY UNCLE AND I PUT HUMPTY DUMPTY TOGETHER AGAIN.
My uncle stood by me very bravely when Aunt Sophia entered thetool-house with an exclamation of surprise. For a few minutes she couldnot understand what we had been about.
"Feathers--a bird--a parrot!" she exclaimed at last. "Why, it is likepoor Polly."
I looked very guiltily at my uncle and was about to speak, but he mademe a signal to be silent.
"Yes, my dear," he faltered, "it--it was poor Polly. We--we found herin the lumber-room--all in ruins, my dear, and we--we have beenexamining her."
"I don't believe it," said my aunt sharply. "That mischievous boy hasbeen at his tricks again."
"I assure you, my dear," cried my uncle, "I had to do with it as well.I helped him. Nat wants to understand bird-stuffing, and we have beento the museum and then we came home."
"Well, of course you did," said my aunt tartly; "do you suppose Ithought you stopped to live in the museum?"
"No, my dear, of course not," said my uncle, laughing feebly. "We arestudying the art of taxidermy, my dear, Nat and I."
He added this quite importantly, putting his eyeglasses on and noddingto me for my approval and support.
"Bless the man! Taxi what?" cried my aunt, who seemed to be fascinatedby Polly's eyes; and she began to softly scratch the feathers on theback of the head.
"Taxi-dermy," said my uncle, "and--and, my dear, I wouldn't scratchPolly's head if I were you; the skins are preserved with poison."
"Bless my heart!" exclaimed my aunt, snatching back her hand; and thenholding out a finger to me: "Wipe that, Nat."
I took out my handkerchief, dipped a corner in the watering-pot, andcarefully wiped the finger clear of anything that might be sticking toit, though, as my own hands were so lately in contact with Polly's skin,I don't believe that I did much good; but it satisfied my aunt, whoturned once more to Uncle Joe.
"Now then, Joseph; what did you say?"
"Taxi-dermy, my dear," he said again importantly; "the art of preservingand mounting the skins of dead animals."
"And a nice mess you'll both make, I dare say," cried my aunt.
"But not indoors, my dear. We shall be very careful. You see Polly hadbeen a good deal knocked about. Your large black box had fallen rightupon her, and her head was off, my dear. The glass shade was inshivers."
"Poor Polly, yes," said my aunt, "I had her put there because of themoths in her feathers. Well, mind this, I shall expect Natty to repairher very nicely; and you must buy a new glass shade, Joseph. Ah, myprecious!"
This was to Nap, who, in reply to her tender speech, made three or fourbounds to get to me, but aunt caught him by the ear and held him withthe skin of his face pulled sidewise, so that he seemed to be winking atme as he lolled out his thin red tongue, and uttered a low whine.
"But mind this, I will not have any mess made indoors."
As she spoke my aunt stooped down and took Nap in her arms, soiling herhandsome silk dress a good deal with the dog's dirty feet. Then shewalked away saying endearing things to Nap, who only whined andstruggled to get away in the most ungrateful fashion; while my uncletook off his glasses, drew a long breath, and said as he wiped his facewith his red silk handkerchief:
"I was afraid she was going to be very cross, my boy. She's such a goodwoman, your dear aunt, my boy, and I'm very proud of her; but she doesupset me so when she is cross."
"I was all of a fidge, uncle," I said laughing.
"So was I, Nat, so was I. But don't laugh, my boy. It is too serious athing for smiles. It always puts me in such a dreadful perspiration,Nat, for I don't like to be angry too. Never be angry with a woman whenyou grow up, Nat, my boy; women, you see, belong to the weaker sex."
"Yes, uncle," I said wonderingly; and then he began to beam and smileagain, and rubbed his hands together softly as he looked at our work.
"But you will have to put Polly together again, Nat," he said at last.
"Put her together again, uncle!" I said in dismay. "Why, it's likeHumpty Dumpty sat on a wall--all the king's horses and all the king'smen--"
"Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again," said my uncle quiteseriously. "But we must put Polly together again, Natty. There's youraunt, you know."
"Yes, uncle, there's Aunt Sophia," I said ruefully; "but the feathersare all out of the skin, and the skin's all in pieces. I'm afraid shewill never look decent, try how I may."
My uncle rubbed his head softly.
"It does look as if it would be a terrible job, Nat," he said; "but itmust be done, and I'm afraid if you made her look as well as she didwhen we found her, your aunt wouldn't be satisfied."
"I'm sure I couldn't make her look as well as she did then, uncle," Ireplied despairingly; "but I'll try."
"Yes, do, my boy. That's right, try. And look here, Nat--I'll helpyou."
I was very glad to hear Uncle Joseph say that, though I did not think hewould be able to help me much; and so as to lose no time we began atonce to think the matter out, and uncle said _yes_ to all I proposed todo, which was his idea of helping me; for he said I drove in the nailsand he clinched them.
After a bit of thinking I came to the conclusion that I have sincelearned was the very best one I could have arrived at, that the properthing to do was to fix on Polly's wire legs as neatly made a body as Icould, and then to stick the feathers all over it in their properplaces. But then what was the body to be made of? Clay or putty couldbe easily moulded into shape, but they would be too heavy. Papier-machewould have been the thing, but I did not know how to make it, so at lastI decided to cut out a body from a piece of wood.
"The very thing, Nat," said my uncle. "Stop a minute, my boy, till I'velit my pipe, and then we'll begin."
I waited till my uncle said he was ready, and then we did begin, that isto say, he went on smoking while I sawed off a piece of wood that Ithought would do.
I need not tell you all about that task; how laboriously I carved awayday after day at that piece of wood with my pocket-knife, breaking onein the work; how I mounted the piece of wood at last on wires, and thenproceeded, by the help of a little glue-pot that my uncle bought onpurpose, to stick Polly's feathers on again. By the way, I think Ifastened on her wings with tin tacks. It was a very, very long job; butat every stage my uncle sat and expressed his approval, and every sparehour was spent in the tool-house, where I patiently worked away.
I grew very tired of my task, but felt that I must finish it, and I haveoften thought since what a splendid lesson it proved.
And so I worked on and on, sticking little patches of skin here,feathers there, and I am afraid making such blunders as would havedriven a naturalist frantic, for I am sure that patches of feathers thatbelonged to the breast were stuck on the back, and smooth back feathersornamented Polly's breast. The head was tolerably complete, so that wasallowed to hang on the nail in the wall, where it seemed to watch theprocess of putting together again; but the tail was terrible, and oftenmade me feel ready to give up in despair.
But here my uncle really did help me, for when ever he saw me out ofheart and tired he used to say:
"Suppose we give up now for a bit, Nat, and have a run."
Then when the time came for another try at Polly we used to laugh andsay that we would have another turn at Humpty Dumpty.
At last--and I don't know how long it took--the time had come whenPolly's head was to cease from staring down in a ghastly one-eyed way ather body, and it was to come down and crown the edifice.
I remember it so well. It was a bright, sunny half-holiday, when I waslonging to be off fishing, but with Humpty Dumpty incomplete there wasno fishing for me, especially as Aunt Sophia had been asking how soonher pet was to be finished.
"Come along, Nat," said Uncle Joseph, "and we'll soon finish it."
I smiled rather sadly, for I did not feel at all sanguine. I made theglue-pot hot, however, and set to work, rearranging a patch or two
offeathers that looked very bad, and then I stared at uncle and he gazedat me.
I believe we both had some kind of an idea that the sort of feathertippet that hung from Polly's head would act as a cloak to hide all theimperfections that were so plain. Certainly some such hopeful idea wasin my brain, though I did not feel sanguine.
"Now then, my boy, now then," cried my uncle, as at last I took Polly'shead from the nail, and he rubbed his hands with excitement. "We shalldo it at last."
I fancy I can smell the hot steaming glue now as I went about that day'swork, for I kept on stirring it up and thinking how much I ought to putin the bird's neck and upon its skull to keep from soiling and makingsticky all its feathers. It took some consideration, and all the whiledear Uncle Joe watched me as attentively as if I were going to performsome wonderful operation. He even held his breath as I began to gluethe head, and uttered a low sigh of relief as I replaced the brush inthe pot.
Then as carefully as I could I fixed the head in its place, securing itthe more tightly by driving a long thin stocking-needle right throughthe skull into the wood.
And there it was, the result of a month's spare time and labour, and Idrew back to contemplate this effort of genius.
I can laugh now as I picture the whole scene. The rough bench on whichstood the bird, the wall on which hung the garden tools, Uncle Joe withhis pipe in one hand, his other resting upon his knee as he sat upon anupturned tub gazing straight at me, and I seem to see my own boyish selfgazing at my task till I utterly broke down with the misery and vexationof my spirit, laying my head upon my arms and crying like a girl.
For a few minutes Uncle Joe was so taken aback that he sat therebreathing hard and staring at me.
"Why, Nat--Nat, my boy," he said at last, as he got down off the tub andstood there patting my shoulders. "What is the matter, my boy; are youpoorly?"
"No--no--no," I sobbed. "It's horrid, horrid, horrid!"
"What's horrid, Natty?" he said.
"That dreadful bird. Oh, uncle," I cried passionately, "I knew Icouldn't do it when I began."
"The bird? What! Humpty Dumpty? What! Polly? Why, my boy, she'ssplendid, and your aunt will be so--"
"She's not," I cried, flashing into passion. "She isn't like a bird atall. I know how soft and rounded and smooth birds are; and did you eversee such a horrid thing as that? It's a beast, uncle! It's a regularguy! It's a--oh, oh!"
In my rage of disappointment at the miserable result of so much hardwork I tore the lump of feathered wood from the bench, dashed it uponthe ground, and stamped upon it. Then my passion seemed to flash awayas quickly as it had come, and I stood staring at Uncle Joe and UncleJoe stared at me.
Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in the Eastern Seas Page 5