Part 23 (1/2)
”Where are the other fellows?” asked Tom, as he ate.
”Out chopping,” answered Ed.
”Did they have bacon dripping b.u.t.ter on their bread this morning?”
”Indeed they didn't. That was saved, by unanimous vote, for you. For but for you there wouldn't have been any bread in Camp Venture to b.u.t.ter with anything.”
”Oh, well,” said Tom, ”but you see it isn't fair. You ought to have divided the bacon fat--”
”Now look here, Tom,” Ed broke in, ”if you'll find a single boy in this company who is growling about the breakfast he got this morning--the best part of it due to your exertions in getting us the meal,--I'll agree to eat that boy and all his complaints. I tell you this bacon fat was saved for you by special request of every fellow in the camp, and that's all there is about it. I foresaw that you'd want to divide it up, so I put it on your bread myself instead of leaving that for you to do.
You see you can't help eating it now.”
”Ed, you fellows are the very best and kindliest that ever were in this world,” said Tom, with so much of emotion that he did not venture to say any more.
”But I say, Tom,” said Ed, eager to turn the course of the talk, ”where and how did you get this meal?”
”Oh, that's a long story,” answered Tom, ”and the other fellows will want to hear it, and really I can't tell it twice. Besides, now that I've had my breakfast I'm going out to do my share of the chopping. I'll tell you all about it while we sit around the fire to-night.”
CHAPTER XXVI
_The Doctor's Talk_
Tom went at once to his chopping, for being, as the Doctor said, ”a healthy young animal,” his sleep, his bath and his breakfast had completely cured him of his exhaustion.
At noon the boys made a hasty dinner, as was their custom when chopping, for the days were still short and they liked to utilize as many of the daylight hours as they could.
They had contracted to deliver a specified number of ties by the first of April or sooner, and they had already completed that part of their task; but their contract permitted them to send down as many more ties, doubling the number if they could; while, as for cordwood and bridge timbers, there was no limit set upon their deliveries. They were anxious to cut all they could and thus to make their winter's work as profitable as possible, and so they were not disposed to waste any part of a day so fine as this one was.
While they were chopping in the afternoon, just as a big tree on which the Doctor was at work began swaying to its fall, a large racc.o.o.n which had been hiding in the hollow of one of its upper limbs leaped to the ground. The Doctor, who had become almost as ”quick on trigger” as Tom himself, seized a shotgun and fired. The animal fell instantly, riddled with turkey shot, and a minute later the Doctor held it up by the tail, saying:
”Here's a supper for us, boys! It'll be a change from bear beef, any how, and you are to have the skin, Tom.”
The boys shouted for joy, for they were growing exceedingly weary of bear meat by this time, and there are few things more appetizing than a fat racc.o.o.n. So the Doctor carried his game to the house, where Ed proceeded at once to dress it for supper.
It was not until after supper that Tom related the story of his mountain adventure, and as he was an expert mimic, he succeeded in so presenting the mountaineer's part in the conversation as to cause a deal of laughter, in which Tom himself joined heartily, although his own memory of his difficult journey was anything but ludicrous.
The weather had grown exceedingly cold again and the logs were piled high on the fire. As the boys basked in the heat that was radiated into the room, some one said: ”What a pity it is to waste all the heat that is going off up the chimney! It would run an engine.”
”So it would,” said the Doctor, ”but that is what all the world is constantly doing. The wood that we have burned since supper would supply a French or Italian house with fire for a month at least.”
”But how?” asked Jack. ”Surely wood burns up as fast in France or Italy as it does here.”
”Of course. But the French and Italians--especially the Italians--have very little wood, and they use it very sparingly. When they make an open fire it is made of sticks about eight or ten inches long, very small and usually consisting of round wood. They rarely have a split stick, because they never cut down a tree, or if they do they use every part of it that is bigger than your wrist for some kind of lumber useful in the arts.”
”But if they don't cut down trees,” asked Harry, ”how do they get any wood at all?”
”They have very few trees,” answered the Doctor, ”and instead of cutting them down they trim off the branches from time to time and make fire wood of them, utilizing every particle, even down to the smallest twigs, which they cut into eight inch lengths and tie up in bundles for use in boiling their soup kettles. In some parts of Southern California,”