Part 3 (1/2)
”Come on, Edmund. We've got to kill those that are sure to die. The rest we will put in a box with some hay, and perhaps they will get well.”
We wrung the necks of three, and put the others in a box and covered it over.
Then we looked at each other, and Edmund opened his basket, and let those we had caught fly away.
”No more quail shooting for me, Ben. They're too human. By George, I know just how a murderer feels.”
One snowy winter day, Davy came to our barn, where I was foddering the cattle, and said:--
”Ben, this storm will be over to-morrow, and will make fine snowshoeing.
Amos Locke is going with me fox-hunting, and we want you to come too.”
[Sidenote: INVITATION TO A FOX HUNT]
”I don't know that I can go. Let's talk it over with my brother John.”
When John heard us he said: ”I guess I can fix things so that you can get off. Pitch in, work hard, and do some of the stints that father set you for to-morrow, and I will look after your ch.o.r.es.”
By the time mother came to the door and blew the horn for supper, we had done a great deal of work.
After supper I lit a big pine knot and placed it in the side of the fireplace, so that the smoke from it would go up the chimney. It threw a pleasant light out into the room. Father was at work on an ox-bow. John had a rake into which he was setting some new teeth, and I sat on a stool with a wooden shovel between my legs, sh.e.l.ling corn; rasping the ears on the iron edge of the shovel, so that the kernels fell into a big basket in front of me.
My little brother David was sitting on a bench in the side of the great fireplace, reading that terrible poem by the Rev. Michael Wigglesworth, called the ”Day of Doom,” which tells all about the day of judgment,--how the sinners are doomed to burn eternally in brimstone; and the saints are represented as seated comfortably in their armchairs in heaven, looking down into the sulphurous pit.
I used to wonder how Mr. Wigglesworth got so thorough a knowledge of these two places and of judgment day, and doubts crept into my mind as to the accuracy of his description. When I thought of Bishop Hanc.o.c.k seated in one of those armchairs, I knew that his soul, at least, would be full of pity and sorrow for the poor sufferers below, and I felt that the saints ought to be a good deal like him.
I did not envy David his book. It seemed to me that every now and then I could see his hair rise up and his eyes bulge out with terror.
Mother stood by the woollen wheel, spinning, and my little sister Ruhama sat near her, knitting.
The fire lit up the room and made the pewter dishes on the dresser s.h.i.+ne.
Above us, hanging from the rafters, were bunches of herbs, crooked-neck squashes, and poles on which were strung circular slices of pumpkin which were drying, to be made into sauce in the future.
[Sidenote: THE ”DAY OF DOOM”]
David shut up his book, went to mother, and said: ”Oh, mother, mother!
I'm scared to death. Do you suppose I've got to go to h.e.l.l?”
”No, David. You're a good little boy. Just learn your catechism, go to meeting, and be a good boy, and I guess you'll come out all right.”
I remembered well how I felt as I read that book, and the hours of anguish that it caused me. David got some apples, placed them on the hearth in front of the fire; and, in watching them roast and sputter, he soon forgot his fears.
John began to talk to father about old times, and soon got him started telling stories about hunting.
”Yes, I used to go after wild turkeys with Will Munroe, the blacksmith, when I was a boy. One day we met Ben Wellington, and he said he had just come down the Back Road, and had seen a bear in a huckleberry patch, and if we'd go with him, we could kill him. He borrowed a gun of Tom Fessenden, and we drew our charges, and loaded with a bullet and some buckshot. When we got to the place, we crept along carefully, and saw the bear stripping off the huckleberries and eating them. He was so busy he didn't notice us, and we got quite close to him. Will and I fired, and he rose and turned to us, and Ben fired. We ran off a little, loaded again, and went back, and found the bear was dead.
”In the winter we used to go fox-hunting. What fun we had! I vum, I'd like to go now.”
This gave John a good opening, and he said: ”Young David Fiske and Amos Locke are going after foxes to-morrow, and they want Ben to go with them. Benny worked hard to-day, and did most of the jobs that you laid out for him to do to-morrow; and I told him that if you would let him go, I would do his ch.o.r.es.”