Part 2 (1/2)

”Be quick,” said Bevis. ”Run back to the settlement, and get the auger; I will mind the raft and keep off the savages; and, I say, bring a spear and the cutla.s.s; and--I say--”

But Mark was too far, and in too much of a hurry to hear a word. Bevis, tired of chopping, rolled over on his back on the gra.s.s, looking up at the sky. The b.u.t.tercups rose high above his head, the wind blew and cooled his heated forehead, and a humble-bee hummed along: borne by the breeze from the gra.s.s there came the sweet scent of green things growing in the suns.h.i.+ne. Far up he saw the swallows climbing in the air; they climbed a good way almost straight up, and then suddenly came slanting down again.

While he lay there he distinctly heard the Indians rustling again in the forest. He raised himself on one arm, but could not see them; then recollecting that he must try to conceal himself, he reclined again, and thought how he should be able to repel an attack without weapons. There was the little hatchet, he could s.n.a.t.c.h up that and defend himself.

Perhaps they would sink the raft? Perhaps when Mark returned they had better tow it back up stream, and draw it ash.o.r.e safely at home, and then return to the work of clearing the obstruction. As he lay with his knees up among the b.u.t.tercups he heard the thump, thump of Mark's feet rus.h.i.+ng down the hill in eager haste with the auger. So he sat up, and beckoned to him to be quiet, and explained to him when he arrived that the Indians were certainly about. They must tow the raft back to the drinking-place. Bevis untied the cord with which the raft was fastened to the willow, and stepped on board.

”Don't pull too quick,” he said to Mark, giving him the cord; ”or perhaps I shall run aground.”

”But you floated down,” said Mark. ”Let me get in, and you tow; it's my turn.”

”Your turn?” shouted Bevis, standing up as straight as a bolt. ”This is _my_ raft.”

”But you always have everything, and you floated down, and I have not; you have everything, and--”

”You are a great story,” said Bevis, stamping so that the raft shook and the ripples rushed from under it. ”I don't have everything, and you have more than half; and I gave you my engine and that box of gun-caps yesterday; and I hate you, and you are a big story.”

Out he scrambled, and seizing Mark by the shoulders, thrust him towards the raft with such force that it was with difficulty Mark saved himself from falling into the brook. He clung to the willow--the bark gave way under his fingers--but as he slipped, he slung himself over the raft and dropped on it.

”Take the pole,” said Bevis, still very angry, and looking black as thunder. ”Take the pole, and steer so as not to run in the mud, and not to hit against the bank. Now then,” and putting the cord over his shoulder, off he started.

Mark had as much as ever he could do to keep the raft from striking one side or the other.

”Please don't go so fast,” he said.

Bevis went slower, and towed steadily in silence. After they had pa.s.sed the hawthorn under the may-bloom, Mark said, ”Bevis,” but Bevis did not answer.

”Bevis,” repeated Mark, ”I have had enough now; stop, and you get in.”

”I shall not,” said Bevis. ”You are a great story.”

In another minute Mark spoke again:--

”Let me get out and tow you now.” Bevis did not reply. ”I say--I say-- I say, Bevis.”

No use. Bevis towed him the whole way, till the raft touched the shallow sh.o.r.e of the drinking-place. Then Mark got out and helped him drag the vessel well up on the ground, so that it should not float away.

”Now,” said Bevis, after it was quite done. ”Will you be a story any more?”

”No,” said Mark, ”I will not be a story again.”

So they walked back side by side to the willow tree; Mark, who was really in the right, feeling in the wrong. At the tree Bevis picked up the auger, and told him to bore the hole. Mark began, but suddenly stopped.

”What's the good of boring the hole when we have not got any gunpowder,”

said he.

”No more we have,” said Bevis. ”This is very stupid, and they will not let me have any, though I have got some money, and I have a great mind to buy some and hide it. Just as if we did not know how to use powder, and as if we did not know how to shoot! Oh, I know! We will go and cut a bough of alder--there's ever so many alders by the Longpond--and burn it and make charcoal; it makes the best charcoal, you know, and they always--use it for gunpowder, and then we can get some saltpetre. Let me see--”

”The Bailiff had some saltpetre the other day,” said Mark.

”So he did: it is in the dairy. Oh yes, and I know where some sulphur is. It is in the garden-house, where the tools are, in the orchard; it's what they use to smother the bees with--”