CHAPTER VII.
COUNTRY EXPERIENCES.
Bert had come to Maplebank just in time for the haying season. The longslopes of upland and the level stretches of intervale waved before thebreeze their russet and green wealth, awaiting the summons of the scytheand reaper. A number of extra hands had been hired to help in gatheringthe crop, which this year was unusually abundant, and a few days afterBert's coming the attack was begun.
The mowing machine had not yet reached Maplebank. The papers weretalking about it a good deal, but Squire Stewart was not the man toquickly adopt new inventions, and nobody else in the neighbourhood couldafford to do so. Consequently, the West River Valley still continued towitness the good, old-fashioned way of mowing with the scythe; and Bert,accompanying Uncle Alec to the field, was filled with admiration for thestalwart "Rorys" and "Donalds" and "Sandys" as they strode along throughthe thick grass, cutting a wide swath before them. There was somethingin the work that appealed to the boy's bump of destructiveness, andfilled him with eagerness to join in it.
"Oh, Uncle Alec, mayn't I mow?" he asked.
"Certainly, Bert, if you know how; but if you don't, I wouldn't adviseyou to try it," was the smiling reply.
Not at all discouraged, Bert waited patiently until one of the mowersstopped to sharpen his scythe, and then stepping to him, asked, in hismost engaging way:
"Please, sir, won't you let me mow a little?"
The man looked down at him in surprise.
"You couldn't hold a scythe, sonny," he said, with a grin of amusement.
"Oh, yes, I could. Please let me try; won't you?" pleaded Bert.
The man yielded, and placing his scythe in Bert's hands, told him to goahead.
With much difficulty Bert succeeded in grasping the two short handleswhich projected from the long curved shaft, and, summoning all hisstrength, he tried to move the scythe in the way the mowers were doing.But at the first attempt the sharp point stuck in the turf, andinstantly the long handle flew up, turned over, and hit him a hardcrack, square between the eyes, that felled him to the ground.
The stars were dancing before his eyes, and the next moment the tearswould have been there too, had he not, as he picked himself up, caughtsight of the men laughing heartily over his mishap.
"They shan't see me cry," said he to himself; and, putting forth aheroic effort, he swallowed his tears, though the gulping them down waspositively painful, and, standing up straight, looked bravely about him.Uncle Alec saw it all and understood just how Bert felt.
"Well done, my little hero," said he, clapping him on the back. "Youhave the right stuff in you."
"That he has, sir," said Big Sandy, with an admiring look. "He wouldmake a right good laddie for the farm."
Bert's heart was filled with joy at these praises, and he determinedthat nobody on the farm should ever see him cry, unless he reallycouldn't at all help it.
The scythe handle gave him quite an ugly bruise, which caused many aquestion when he went back to the house; and Aunt Sarah, who was asnervous as she was loving and sympathetic, made much ado over it, andinsisted on a bandage, which made Bert look like a little soldier whohad been in action. Mrs. Lloyd took the matter much more quietly. Sheknew her son had to get his share of bumps and bruises, and that eachone would bring wisdom with it; so she contented herself with a kiss ofsympathy, and the hope that he would have better fortune next time.
The succeeding days were full of surprises and enjoyments to Bert.
His mother gave him full liberty to go and come as he pleased, so longas he did not roam beyond the borders of the homestead, except whenwith Uncle Alec. The hay mows, the carriage loft, the sheep pens, thecattle stalls, were all explored; and ever so many cosy little nooksdiscovered, that seemed just made for "hide and seek" or "I spy." SquireStewart had three barns on his homestead; one very large double barn,and two smaller ones. Each of these had its own attractions; but the bigbarn, that stood to your left, half way between the red gate and thehouse, was the best of all. It contained great hay mows, in which vastquantities of hay could be stored; a row of stalls where the horsesstood when not out at pasture; queer dark pens, into which the sheepwere gathered at winter time; and then, down underneath, great ranges ofuprights, between which the patient cattle were fastened, and fed withhay, in the months when the snow lay deep upon their accustomedpastures. There was an air of shadowy mystery about this huge, ramblingstructure, with its lichen-patched roof, that fascinated Bert, and thateven the saucy chirpings of the sparrows, which boldly built their nestsin its dusty corners, could not dispel.
Bert often wished that his city playmates could come and share with himthe enjoyments of "grandfather's." He was not without companions,however. Cameron, the big blacksmith at the cross-roads, had threefreckle-faced boys that were very glad to play with the little gentlemanat Squire Stewart's, when they could get away from the numerous dutiesthey were required to do at home; and other playmates soon turned up.Bert was at first not very much inclined to be sociable with them. Notonly did they seem to have no shoes and stockings, but their entireclothing was usually limited to a battered straw hat, an unbleachedcotton shirt, and a pair of rough homespun trousers; and the city boywas inclined to look upon the country lads with some contempt, until hisAunt Martha cured him effectually one day by a remark made in a quietway.
Bert had been making some unflattering comments upon the barefootedyoungsters, when Aunt Martha interrupted him:
"You had better not make fun of those boys, Bert," said she, with acurious smile. "They may look as though they were poor, but rememberthat their fathers have all of them their own carriage and horses, andyour father has not."
Bert saw the point at once, and never again ventured to ridicule boyswho were the sons of "real carriage folk." Not only so, but he began atonce to feel a respect for them, which wrought such a change in hisbearing toward them, that they, who were not at all favourably impressedat first, changed their minds and decided that he was a "right smartlittle fellow."
It was while playing "hide and seek" in the big barn with half-a-dozenof these youngsters, that Bert had a narrow escape from serious injury,if not, indeed, from death. The great, gaping mows were being filledwith hay, which was pitched in any way, and not, of course, packedfirmly. Consequently, it was in some places like snow upon the Alpineslopes--ready to fall in an avalanche, at the slightest temptation.
In endeavouring to reach a far corner of the barn, where he felt sure noone could possibly find him, Bert tried to cross a hill of hay, that hadpiled up in one division of the mow. His hasty movements were just whatwas needed to bring the whole mass toppling down in confusion to thebottom of the mow. Unfortunately for him, he was involved in theoverthrow, and without a moment's warning was buried beneath a huge massof hay. As he went sliding helplessly down he uttered a cry of terror,which startled little Rory Chisholm, who sprang out from hishiding-place just in time to see poor Bert disappear.
"Hi! Hi! boys--come here; Bert Lloyd's under the hay."
The boys quickly gathered, and with eager hands set to work, to rescuetheir imperiled playmate. But, vigorously though they toiled, it wasslow progress they made; and in the meantime the little fellow, pressedupon by many hundredweight of hay, was fast losing breath andconsciousness. He could hear them very indistinctly, but could not makea sound himself.
By a fortunate accident, one of the men happened along, just as theboys were near giving up the task as too great for them.
"Donald! Donald! Quick! Bert Lloyd's under the hay. Dig him out, orhe'll die," cried Rory, at the top of his voice.
Seizing a pitchfork, Donald attacked the hay like a giant, getting moreand more careful as he drew near the bottom of the mow, until at last,with a shout of "I've got him," he stooped down and dragged thesenseless form of Bert from the very bottom of the pile. Taking him inhis arms, he ran with him to the house, and gave Aunt Sarah a greatfright by suddenly plumping him into her lap, as she sat on the verandahreading, saying, b
reathlessly:
"Here, miss, bring him to, and he'll be none the worse for it."
Aunt Sarah screamed for hartshorn, spirits of wine, and the dear knowswhat, but Mrs. Lloyd, bringing a glass of water, dashed it freely overher boy's pale face, and in a minute or two he opened his eyes again. AsDonald said, he was none the worse for his experience, for no bones werebroken, nor muscles strained; yet all felt thankful that he had escapedso well.
It was not long after this that Bert had another adventure, which alsocame near costing him his life. He was not only very fond of water, butas fearless about it as a Newfoundland puppy. The blue sea, calm as amirror or flecked with "white caps," formed part of his earliestrecollections. He would play at its margin all day long, building fortsout of sand for the advancing billows of the tide to storm andoverwhelm. He was never happier than when gliding over it in hisfather's skiff. It was the last thing in nature he looked upon beforelying down at night, and the first thing to which he turned on awakingin the morning. Thus he got so used to the great salt sea, that when hecame to Maplebank and looked at the quiet stream, which glided along sonoiselessly at the bottom of the slope before the house, he thought it amere plaything, and could hardly be made to understand that, innocent asthe river appeared, there was water enough in it to drown him ten timesover.
One day some of the village folk came out to spend the day at Maplebank,and the weather being decidedly warm, Uncle Alec proposed that the menof the party should go with him for a bathe. They gladly assented, andBert having begged to accompany them was given leave to do so. UncleAlec took them to a lovely spot for a bath--a tempting nook in which onemight almost have expected to surprise a water nymph or two, if you drewnear quietly enough. On one side, the bank rose high and steep,affording perfect seclusion; a narrow beach of gravel made a fine placefor undressing. The river rolled gently along with plenty of depth, andbeyond it was another beach, and then the swelling intervale.
Amid much laughter and excitement the men undressed, Uncle Alec allowingBert to do the same, as he had promised to carry him across the river onhis back. So soon as they were ready the bathers dived in; and, withmuch splashing and noise, swam races to the opposite bank, leaving Bertalone upon the shore. Skylarking with one another there they quiteforgot their little companion until Uncle Alec looking across, gave astart, and cried out:
"Hallo! What's become of the boy?"
Not a sign of Bert was to be seen. His little pile of clothes, with hatplaced carefully on top, was plain enough but no Bert. Full of anxiety,Uncle Alec sprang into the water, and with great sweeping strokes madefor the other side. The water fairly foamed about his broad, whiteshoulders as he tore through it. He steered straight for the spot wherehe had seen Bert last. Three-fourths of the distance had been covered,when suddenly he stopped, and reaching down into the water, pulledup--What do you think? Why, Bert, of course, whose big brown eyes hadstartled him as they looked up at him through the clear, cool water. Buthow did Bert get there? Well, easily enough. He had got tired waitingfor his uncle to come back for him. He wanted to be over there where themen were all having such fun. He could not swim across, so he justcoolly accepted the only alternative, and started to walk across! WhenUncle Alec found him there was a clear foot of water over his head. Astep or two more and he would certainly have lost his footing, beencarried away by the current, and drowned perhaps before Uncle Alec couldhave found him.
The men all voted him a young hero when they were told of his attempt,and Uncle Alec vowed he'd teach him to swim the next time he paid avisit to Maplebank.
Aunt Sarah was greatly excited when she heard of her darling Bert'ssecond escape, and had Mrs. Lloyd taken her advice the poor boy wouldhave been tied to somebody's apron strings for the rest of the summer.But Mrs. Lloyd thought it better to do no more than caution Bert, andtrust to the Providence that protects children to keep him from harm. Hewould have to learn to take care of himself sooner or later, and thesooner the better.
Bert Lloyd's Boyhood: A Story from Nova Scotia Page 8