CHAPTER XX.
PETER CLASH AND THE WOLF-TRAP.
Captain Rhines was called to Boston on account of some business withMr. Welch, and John was kept from school to take care of matters athome.
One pleasant morning, his mother having given him the day, he had madeup his mind to go gunning and fishing, taking his dinner with him, SamHadlock having agreed to do what was necessary in his absence.
As he was about to set out, Fred Williams came along, with hisdinner-pail in his hand, on his way to school.
“Where are you going, John?”
“Frost-fishing and gunning.”
“I’ll go with you; ’tis too pleasant to go to school.”
“I wouldn’t play truant, Fred.”
“Father won’t know it; our girls ain’t going to-day; so there’s nobodyto tell.”
“But you’ll know it yourself, Fred.”
“I don’t care.”
“If you won’t play truant, I’ll go some Saturday with you.”
“Saturdays father makes me work in the mill; he thinks I don’t want toplay, as other boys do.”
John could not persuade him to go to school; so they started offtogether. They spent the forenoon in gunning. At noon they made a fireon the rocks, made some clay porridge, then took a sea-fowl and dippedinto it, feathers and all, coating it completely with clay; they thendug a hole in the ground, filling it partly with stones, which theymade red hot; on these they put the bird, then threw back the looseearth. After a proper time they took it out, and peeled off the clay,which brought the feathers and skin with it, leaving the carcass cleanand well cooked.
John had brought pepper, salt, and butter, and they had plenty of breadand meat in their dinner-pails. Tige wouldn’t touch the bird; so theygave him the meat.
“How good this is!” said Fred, with the wing of a sheldrake in hismouth; “how glad I am I didn’t go to school!”
John made no reply, for his mouth was full; neither did he approveof playing truant. They now went to Uncle Isaac’s brook, fishing. Thefrost-fish swim up into the mouth of little brooks, where the wateris only about two or three inches deep, and are very slow in theirmovements in cool weather. The boys caught them by fastening a cod-hookto a stick, three or four feet long, and hauling them out. They set outon their return in good season, that Fred might get home at the propertime, and escape detection.
As they came to the landing, John jumped out to haul the boat ashore,while Fred pushed with an oar; the boat, striking a rock, stopped sosuddenly, that he fell down into the bottom of her, and stuck one ofthe hooks into his thigh. The remorseless steel buried itself in theflesh beyond the barb. There was the miserable boy, with both handsbehind him, holding himself up, afraid either to get up or sit down, ashe could not move an inch without taking with him the great stick towhich the hook was fastened. John, reaching carefully under him, cutthe string which fastened it to the hook, letting it fall off.
Fred now prostrated himself on the beach, while John proceeded toexamine; he pulled a little.
“O-w-w! you hurt me!”
“It’s over the barb; I can’t pull it out without almost killing you.”
“My father’ll kill me quite, if he finds out I’ve played truant;father’s awful when he rises. O, I wish I’d gone to school.”
“I should think you would.”
“It must come out somehow; can’t you _cut_ it out?”
“I’ll try; but it’ll hurt.”
“I can’t help it; but be as easy as you can.”
John had been shelling clams with his knife the day before, and thatforenoon he’d used it as a screw-driver, to tighten the flint in hisgun; but he whet it on the sole of his boot, and began to cut.
“O, dear! what shall I do? Boo-oo! cut away, John! I shall die! I shalldie! I wish I’d gone to school! Murder! murder!! murder!!!”
“Fred,” cried John, flinging away the knife, his eyes filling withtears, “I can’t bear to hurt you so.”
“Father’ll hurt me worse; he’ll rip it right out, and lick me into thebargain.”
“There’s a file in the canoe, they have to sharpen hooks; perhaps I canfile it off.”
“Do, John; do.”
Just as the voices of the children were heard going home from school,John succeeded in filing it off. Fred jumped up, his mouth full ofgravel, where he had bitten the beach in his agony, and ran home. Hedidn’t sleep much that night. The sawing of the flesh with a dull knifeproduced irritation, and by morning it began to fester. It hurt him towalk, it hurt him to move, and it hurt him to sit still. All day longhe sat on the edge of his seat, and didn’t go out at recess to play.When he got home, he found his cousin John Ryan had come to spend thenight. As he was a general favorite, the children all wanted him to sitnext them at the table. They were all standing up around the table,wrangling about it, when the miller, who had a grist to grind beforedark, and was in a hurry for his supper, lost all patience.
“Down with you--will you, somewhere?” cried he to Fred; “you’re bigenough to behave,” and pushed him slap down into a chair.
“O!” screamed Fred, jumping upright, bursting into tears, and clappingboth hands to the aggrieved part.
It all came out now; but in consideration of what he had suffered, andhad yet to undergo, he escaped a whipping. His mother bound some of themarrow of a hog’s jaw on the wound, and, after a while, the hook cameout.
Fred promised John Rhines solemnly that he not only would never playtruant again, but in all respects try to become a better boy; yet thewound was scarcely healed before he was again engaged in mischief.
Captain Rhines had a fish-flake on the beach, just above high-watermark. Uncle Isaac had been making fish on it, and they were nearlycured.
He cherished a bitter antipathy to the Tories, and, like all the peopleon the sea-coast of Maine, was inclined to dislike the inhabitants ofNova Scotia, among whom they sought refuge after they were driven fromthe colonies. This prejudice extended itself to Peter Clash, and wasgreatly strengthened by his treatment of his benefactors; he thereforenever treated him with the cordiality he did the other boys. This Petehighly resented. He persuaded Fred, Jack Pettigrew, Ike Godsoe, andsome others, to go with him in the evening, take the fish from theflakes, and throw them on the beach. It was a very difficult matter topersuade the boys to do this, for they all loved and respected UncleIsaac; besides, he was not a person to be trifled with. After goingonce, all, except Fred, Jack, and Ike, refused to go again; and afterPete and his satellites had gone, Henry Griffin and the others wentback and replaced the fish. Pete, with his crew, continued the sport,and enjoyed a malicious pleasure, as, hid in the bushes, they saw himpicking up the fish, many of which, getting in the tide’s way, werespoiled.
PETER CLASH AND THE WOLF TRAP. Page 207.]
Uncle Isaac set a wolf-trap beside the flake, covering it in the sand,and hid himself among the bushes. The boys manifested a great deal ofcaution, pretending they had merely come down to fling stones into thewater. The conduct of Uncle Isaac, who continued quietly to pick up thefish, without saying a word, made them suspicious; they thought theremust be something “under that heap of meal.” By and by they began toedge up towards the flake, often stopping to listen. At last Pete wentup to the fish; walking along the edge of the flake, he threw off thefish as he went, crying, “There’s nobody here; why don’t you come on,you cowards.” The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when snap wentthe great iron jaws of the trap, and up jumped Uncle Isaac from thebushes. Pete roared with agony. Well he might; the trap would have cutoff his leg, or crushed it to pomace, if Uncle Isaac had not tied downone of the springs, thus diminishing its force. His captor utterednever a word; but catching him up, trap and all, walked right into thewater.
“O! Mr. Murch, I’ll never do so again! What be you going to do to me?”
“Drown you, you spawn of a Tory; your hide isn’t worth taking off.”
Pete poured forth agonizing entreaties for m
ercy, and made the mostsolemn promises of amendment, if his life could be spared.
“You’re a rotten egg; you’re spilin’ all our boys, you varmint,” saidUncle Isaac, chucking him right into the water, head and ears.
“Murder! murder!” screamed Pete, the moment he got his head out.
“Will you clear out in the spring, in the first fisherman that comesalong, and go where you come from?”
Pete called God to witness that he would.
“You can do as you like; but if you don’t, I’ll be the death of you. Icalculate,” said Uncle Isaac, as he picked up his fish, “he’ll keep hisword this time; he’ll have about as much as he can do to take care ofthat leg this winter.”
John Rhines, being lonesome, after Ben went on to the island, had keptcompany to some extent with these boys; but it was very much liketrying to mix oil and water; they played together occasionally, butthere was no fusion. When he heard of the last-mentioned occurrence, hesaid to his mother,--
“I won’t be seen with those boys any more. O, mother, I do wish I hadsomebody to love besides Tige.”
“Why, John Rhines, where are your parents, your sisters, and all yourfriends?”
“You know what I mean; some boy of my age, that I could love clearthrough; that you, and father, and Ben could love, and love to have mewith; and, when he come to our house, you’d give him a piece of cake,and wouldn’t look so, as you do when Fred comes. I mean somebody thatwasn’t like these boys, either stupid or wicked.”
The boy’s heart, overflowing with the impulses of youth, longed for akindred spirit of his own age.
Lion Ben of Elm Island Page 21