CHAPTER XII
JACK FROST
Roger had been at his uncle's a week when he received a second letterfrom home. It told him all the folks were well and were hoping he wasimproving in health. He answered it as soon as he had read it, forbeyond the short note he had sent off telling of his safe arrival, hehad not yet written much to his mother. So in this second letter herelated all of his experiences since coming to Cardiff, from thewrestling match to the adventure with the wild-cat and his partnershipwith his cousin in the old bone and copper business.
For the next few days the two boys were busy about the farm and garden,Roger helping Adrian as much as he could in the various tasks thecountry boy had to look after, or which he undertook of his own accord.When there was nothing else to do they gathered old bones, until theyhad quite a heap back of the barn. One day the collector came from thefertilizer factory and paid Adrian two dollars for what there was, andthe boys were as much pleased as older persons would have been over alarger sum.
Thus the time passed for several weeks, during which the remainder ofthe crops were gathered in. The potatoes were stored in bins in thecellar, and along side of them were the beets, the turnips, the carrots,the cabbages and onions; enough vegetables, Roger thought, to feed aregiment. Barrels of apples were stowed away in dark corners, with thepromise of many pies and dishes of sauce. The swing shelves of thecellar groaned and squeaked under the weight of canned fruit,--peaches,pears, quinces, plum-sauce, apple-butter, and grape jelly,--and it wasquite a treat for the boys to go down and gaze at the rows of glass jarswhich held the sweets in reserve.
The barn was well filled with hay, the oat-bin bulged with fodder, andthe silo, where the cornstalks were kept as feed for the cows, seemedlike to split apart with its rich contents. The corn-crib, through theopenings on the sides, showed a wealth of golden grains, which indicatednot only johnny-cake for the house, but plenty of eating for thechickens. In short, there was every indication that whatever elsehappened there would be no lack of meals in the Kimball home thatwinter.
While grim care was not altogether absent from Mr. Kimball, owing to thefear that his money matters were hopelessly involved, he seemed to havelost some of his outward signs of worry. He became more cheerful, and asthe days went by and the others tried to imitate his example, thehousehold was a more happy place. At any rate, nothing was likely tohappen until spring, and by that time something might turn up. At leastthat is what they all hoped.
The weather was getting colder now, the mornings being rather raw andchill, though there was an invigorating feeling in the air which wasnoticeably absent from the atmosphere of the city. The nights, too, hadgrown frosty, though so far only a thin white coating on the ground hadgreeted the boys as they crawled, shivering, out of bed. But winter wasat hand and its coming was anticipated by the animals who, in the woodsand fields, were busy laying up their food supplies.
One evening, when Roger and Adrian were returning from Hank Mack'sstore, they noticed the clear brightness of the stars overhead.
"Whew!" whistled Adrian, as he turned his coat collar up, "there's goingto be a black frost to-night," and he ran on a few steps, with hops andjumps, to warm up his blood.
"What's a black frost?" asked Roger.
"I don't know, only that's what they call it when it freezes real hardand there ain't any white frost on the ground. A white frost is a whitefrost, and a black frost is a black frost, that's all I know."
"And you think there'll be a black frost to-night?"
"I bet there will. Then we can go chestnutting to-morrow. The burs willbe down by the wagonload, and I know where we can get bushels of nuts."
"Bushels of chestnuts?" questioned Roger, who had only seen as many ofthe shiny brown fellows at one time as could be heaped on some streetvendor's stand.
"Yes, sir, bushels," maintained Adrian, "and, do you know, they'll sellfor about five dollars a bushel this year."
"I should think they might, judging by the few you get from the Italiansfor a dime," said Roger, thinking of how often he had bought the roastedor boiled nuts from the stand at the corner near his home.
The boys now set off, racing towards the house. They spent the eveningreading and talking. About nine o'clock, when Adrian stepped to thespout at the side door to get a fresh drink of water, he came back withred cheeks and announced that it was growing much colder.
That night Jack Frost descended on Cardiff valley with all his forces.It got colder and colder, a tingling, vigorous cold that snapped thenails in the clapboards on the house. The morning dawned clear, and abreath of the fresh bracing air made the blood race through the veins.
"This is suthin' like weather," observed Mr. Kimball, rubbing his handsbriskly, as he went out to the barn before breakfast to feed and waterthe cows and horses. "I'm glad it didn't catch us nappin', 'ith th'grapes not picked."
He broke a thin sheet of ice on the horse trough.
"Thar'll be skatin' ef this keeps on," he added with a twinkle in hisblue eyes, as he saw Roger and Adrian racing out after him. They leapedand bounded, for the bracing air made them feel like young colts runningin a big field. Roger seemed to have improved very much in his health ina short time, and he was now a good second to his cousin, a most sturdyyouth.
"Reckon it's goin' t' snow," said Mr. Kimball, as he carried a pail ofwater into the barn.
"To-day, dad?" asked Adrian, anxiously.
"Not afore night, I guess," said the farmer, "but I kin smell snow," andhe sniffed hard.
"Well, I'm glad you can't smell it until night," laughed Adrian. "Roger'n' I are going after chestnuts to-day."
"Wa'al, I haint no objections," remarked Mr. Kimball, holding the pailof water where Ned, the horse, could reach it. "Guess a tripchestnuttin' 'll be good fer both on ye. I'm goin' t' kill hogst'-morrow, snow er no snow."
"That'll be lots of fun," said Adrian to Roger. "Come on, let's eat, 'n'then we'll go."
The boys made a hurried breakfast and then, warmly clad, they startedfor the woods, carrying bags in which to gather the nuts. They had abouttwo miles to walk, and when they reached the chestnut grove, Adrian sawhe had not been wrong in his surmise that there would be a heavy fall.They found the ground covered with the burs, which had burst open,showing the shining brown nuts inside.
"Hurrah!" shouted Adrian. "Get to work! Here they are! Don't let thesquirrels and chipmunks beat us."
Indeed, it was high time the boys started in, for there were scores ofred and gray squirrels and the prettily striped chipmunks scamperingabout on the ground and in the trees, filling their pouch-like cheekswith the nuts, and then leaping and bounding away to their nests withthe store of winter provender. The boys began to hustle, threshing theburs from the nuts, and then scooping the latter into the bags they hadbrought. It wasn't long before they had gathered several pecks, and theydidn't have to cover much ground to get them either.
Adrian packed nearly a bushel into his sack before he was satisfied, butRoger was content to lug home a little more than two pecks, as he washardly strong enough to bear the weight of more. They tramped slowlyback, stopping frequently to rest. Emptying the nuts into baskets theywent again to the woods for more, for as Adrian said, the squirrelswould soon make short work of the harvest unless the boys were lively.On their second trip the hired man went with them, trundling' awheelbarrow, and this time they brought away over three bushels, leavingas many more piled in a heap, the hired man going after them alonelater.
"Got about seven bushels," announced Adrian, proudly, at the suppertable. "Not bad, eh, pop?"
"I should say not," replied Mr. Kimball. "'N Porter Amidown were tellin'me yist'day they'd gone t' six dollars a bushel."
"Then we'll send out six bushels in the morning, when Porter goes to thecity," said Adrian. "One bushel'll be more than we can eat. That'll bethirty-six dollars toward the mortgage, dad."
"Bless yer heart," exclaimed Mr. Kimball, pretending that he suddenlyhad a very bad cold. "Bless yer hearts,
boys, I--I--don't want yermoney."
"But you've got to take it," decided Adrian and Roger in one breath,immensely pleased with their day's work, which had only been a pleasure,and feeling proud that it would amount to so much in money.
There was a light flurry of snow that night, and when the boys awokenext morning they found the ground hidden under a white, fleecy blanket.They were not up early enough to see their chestnuts put on the stage tobe sent to Syracuse, but Mrs. Kimball told them at the breakfast tablethat they went all right.
"Where's dad?" asked Adrian.
"Gittin' ready t' kill pigs," answered Mrs. Kimball.
"Hurrah! Roger! That'll be sport! Hurry up. Who's going to help him,mother?"
"I guess old man Hounson's comin' over. I heard yer father say suthin''bout him."
"Well, I reckon we can lend a hand at starting the fire, or something,"said Adrian.
The boys went out to the barnyard as soon as possible, where they foundMr. Kimball getting ready to start a fire under a big caldron of waterthat was to be used at a later stage in the proceedings.
"Let us make the fire, dad," begged Adrian, and getting permission, heand Roger soon had a fine blaze going.
The snow was soon trampled down and melting near the fire of hickorylogs, which crackled, sputtered, and sparked, filling the cold, bracingair with a pleasant nutty smell. The boys as well as Mr. Kimball and hishired man had heavy boots on, and they wore their oldest clothing,since preparing pigs for sausage and pork chops is not exactly cleanwork.
"Wa'al, I see yer gettin' ready fer me," spoke a high-pitched voicesuddenly, and a tall, spare man, with a much wrinkled face and a littlebunch of gray beard on his chin, walked up the driveway to where Mr.Kimball and the boys were gathered about the heat. He too wore boots andan old overcoat. His arms were long and his hands bony and knotted.
"Yep, we're prepared fer ye, Hounson," said Mr. Kimball. "I see ye'vegot yer instruments a' death 'n' destruction 'ith ye," noting some hooksand a number of long, shining, sharp knives which the old man laid onthe rough plank bench near the boiling water.
"Good nippin' weather fer th' middle a' November," observed Hounson,warming his hands at the crackling blaze and nodding to the boys.
"'T is thet," replied Mr. Kimball, while he tried the temperature of thewater with his finger. "Hot 'nuff," he said, as he drew his handhurriedly away from the boiling fluid. "Might's well start in," and hemotioned to the hired man. Hounson took up a long sharp knife, and thethree men started for the pig-sty, which contained half a dozensquealing porkers, all unconscious of the fate in store for them.
Then came a busy period. While Mr. Kimball and his hired man held thehog down on its back, old man Hounson skilfully and quickly killed it bycutting its throat. Cruel as it seemed to Roger, the animals reallysuffered very little pain, so rapidly was the knife thrust into a vitalpart. Then the carcass was dragged over to the incline, made of planks,which led down into a barrel of hot water filled from the steamingcaldron, and soused up and down in this until the bristles weresoftened, so they could easily be removed by the three-sided ironscraper. Next the pig was cleaned and made ready for the market, or forstoring away for winter. The boys got the bladders, which they carefullypreserved, as Adrian said he could sell them to the Indians at theReservation, who put dried corn in them and rattled them at theirdances.
It was hard work for the three men, this business of pig killing andcutting up and preparing the meat for winter use, and it took the mostof the day. The next two were spent in separating the various portionsof the hogs, while preparations were made for smoking the hams, with afire started in the smoke-house, the smouldering blaze being fed withhickory chips, sawdust, and corncobs.
Next Mrs. Kimball, Clara, and Mrs. Hounson, who had been called in tohelp, got ready to make sausage into links. This work was kept up lateone night, when several neighbors dropped in to give assistance. Rogerand Adrian took spells at turning the crank of the machine which groundthe meat up, and then they worked the lever which forced the plungerdown and shoved the sausage into the links. Mrs. Kimball stood near asthe long slender skin was filled. About every four inches she gave theskin a twist, which separated the sausage into the familiar lengths.Clara held a big needle, and whenever an air bubble appeared on thesurface of the skin, she skilfully pricked it, that the sausage mightlast better, the admission of air to the meat hindering it from keepingwell. It was a new and interesting experience to the city boy, and heenjoyed it very much.
When the work was finished there was a lunch of doughnuts, cheese,cookies, apples, cider, and nuts, and the boys listened while thewomenfolks talked of the doings in Cardiff.
Thus was the long, cold, severe winter provided against in the Kimballhomestead, which now held a bountiful supply of the various meats thatpigs are noted for,--sausage, hams, bacon, salt pork, and spare-ribs.Never was there such sweet cured hams, never such clean, cunning,appetizing links of sausage, never such evenly streaked bacon, and neversuch lean pork chops, with just enough fat on. There might come greatblizzards, but in the big farmhouse none would be hungry.
The days passed swiftly now, and the weather grew more severe.Preparations for enduring the winter went on in all the Cardiff homes,and Roger began to anticipate the delights of this season in thecountry, where the snow comes down to stay for months at a time.
It was the end of November, and a cold, blustery night, with banks ofbig gray clouds blowing up from the west.
"Thar's snow in 'em," prophesied Mr. Kimball.
And so it proved, for the next morning when the boys peered from thefrost-encrusted window, they saw the air full of swirling, featheryflakes which covered the ground to a depth of two feet.
"This is fine!" shouted Adrian. "This means coasting on Lafayette hill."
The boys hurried into their clothes, for there was no fire in theirbedrooms, and the only heat upstairs came from the stove-pipe, whichpassed up through the chambers. From the kitchen came the smell ofhickory wood burning in the range. It mingled with the odor of buckwheatcakes, fried sausage, and hot coffee.
"My! But that smells good!" cried Roger.
"You bet!" agreed Adrian, earnestly. "I can eat a dozen cakes thismorning, with the maple syrup and the sausage gravy mother makes."
The White Crystals: Being an Account of the Adventures of Two Boys Page 12