Part 3 (1/2)

Mark went to work with the spade, throwing the turf he dug up into the brook; while Bevis, lying at full length on the gra.s.s, drew his plan of the ca.n.a.l. He drew two curving lines parallel, and half an inch apart, to represent the bend of the brook, and then two, as straight as he could manage, across, so as to shorten the distance, and avoid the obstruction. The rootlets of the gra.s.s held tight, when Mark tried to lift the spadeful he had dug, so that he could not tear them off.

He had to chop them at the side with his spade first, and then there was a root of the willow in the way; a very obstinate stout root, for which the little hatchet had to be brought to cut it. Under the softer turf the ground was very hard, as it had long been dry, so that by the time Bevis had drawn his plan and stuck in little sticks to show the course the ca.n.a.l was to take, Mark had only cleared about a foot square, and four or five inches deep, just at the edge of the bank, where he could thrust it into the stream.

”I have been thinking,” said Bevis as he came back from the other end of the line, ”I have been thinking what we are, now we are making this ca.n.a.l?”

”Yes,” said Mark, ”what are we?--they do not make ca.n.a.ls on the Mississippi. Is this the Suez ca.n.a.l?”

”Oh no,” said Bevis. ”This is not Africa; there is no sand, and there are no camels about. Stop a minute. Put down that spade, don't dig another bit till we know what we are.”

Mark put down the spade, and they both thought very hard indeed, looking straight at one another.

”I know,” said Bevis, drawing a long breath. ”We are digging a ca.n.a.l through Mount Athos, and we are Greeks.”

”But was it the Greeks?” said Mark. ”Are you sure--”

”Quite sure,” said Bevis. ”Perfectly quite sure. Besides, it doesn't matter. _We_ can do it if they did not, don't you see?”

”So we can: and who are you then, if we are Greeks?”

”I am Alexander the Great.”

”And who am I!”

”O, you--you are anybody.”

”But I _must_ be somebody,” said Mark, ”else it will not do.”

”Well, you are: let me see--Pisistratus.”

”Who was Pisistratus?”

”I don't know,” said Bevis. ”It doesn't matter in the least. Now dig.”

Pisistratus dug till he came to another root, which Alexander the Great chopped off for him with the hatchet. Pisistratus dug again and uncovered a water-rat's hole which went down aslant to the water. They both knelt on the gra.s.s, and peered down the round tunnel: at the bottom where the water was, some of the fallen petals of the may-bloom had come in and floated there.

”This would do splendidly to put some gunpowder in and blow up, like the miners do,” said Bevis. ”And I believe that is the proper way to make a ca.n.a.l: it is how they make tunnels, I am sure.”

”Greeks are not very good,” said Mark. ”I don't like Greeks: don't let's be Greeks any longer. The Mississippi was very much best.”

”So it was,” said Bevis. ”The Mississippi is the nicest. I am not Alexander, and you are not Pisistratus. This is the Mississippi.”

”Let us have another float down,” said Mark. ”Let me float down, and I will drag you all the way up this time.”

”All right,” said Bevis.

So they launched the raft, and Mark got in and floated down, and Bevis walked on the bank, giving him directions how to pilot the vessel, which as before was brought up by the willow leaning over the water. Just as they were preparing to tow it back again, and Bevis was climbing out on the willow to get into the raft they heard a splas.h.i.+ng down the brook.

”What's that?” said Mark. ”Is it Indians?”

”No, it's an alligator. At least, I don't know. Perhaps it's a canoe full of Indians. Give me the pole, quick; there now, take the hatchet.