Part 9 (1/2)
”Let the boys have a few moments,” I said. ”They gave up this morning about as well as you could expect of boys. Would Junior have gone and taken a strapping if Merton hadn't returned?”
”Yes, indeed he would, and he knows my strappin's are no make-believe.
That boy has no sly, mean tricks to speak of, but he's as tough and obstinate as a mule sometimes, especially about shooting and fis.h.i.+ng.
See him now a-p'intin' for that rabbit, like a hound.”
True enough, the boy was showing good woodcraft. Restraining Merton, he cautiously approached the tracks, which by reason of the lightness and depth of the snow were not very distinct.
”He can't be far away,” said Junior, excitedly. ”Don't go too fast till I see which way he was a-p'intin'. We don't want to follow the tracks back, but for'ard. See, he came out of that old wall there, he went to these bushes and nibbled some twigs, and here he goes--here he went--here--here--yes, he went into the wall again just here. Now, Merton, watch this hole while I jump over the other side of the fence and see if he comes out again. If he makes a start, grab him.”
John Jones and I were now almost as excited as the boys, and Mr.
Rollins, the neighbor who was following us, was standing up in his sleigh to see the sport. It came quickly. As if by some instinct the rabbit believed Junior to be the more dangerous, and made a break from the wall almost at Merton's feet, with such swiftness and power as to dash by him like a shot. The first force of its bound over, it was caught by nature's trap--snow too deep and soft to admit of rapid running.
John Jones soon proved that Junior came honestly by his pa.s.sion for hunting. In a moment he was floundering through the bushes with his son and Merton. In such pursuit of game my boy had the advantage, for he was as agile as a cat. But a moment or two elapsed before he caught up with the rabbit, and threw himself upon it, then rose, white as a snow-man, shouting triumphantly and holding the little creature aloft by its ears.
”Never rate Junior for hunting again,” I said, laughingly, to Mr.
Jones. ”He's a chip of the old block.”
”I rather guess he is,” my neighbor acknowledged, with a grin. ”I own up I used to be pretty hot on such larkin'. We all keep forgettin' we was boys once.”
As we rode on, Merton was a picture of exultation, and Junior was on the sharp lookout again. His father turned on him and said: ”Now look a' here, enough's as good as a feast. I'll blindfold you if you don't let the tracks alone. Mrs. Durham wants her things, so she can begin to live. Get up there;” and a crack of the whip ended all further hopes on the part of the boys. But they felt well repaid for coming, and Merton a.s.sured Junior that he deserved half the credit, for only he knew how to manage the hunt.
CHAPTER XV
OUR SUNNY KITCHEN
Before we reached the landing I had invested a goodly sum in four pairs of rubber boots, for I knew how hopeless it would be to try to keep Winnie and Bobsey indoors. As for Mousie, she would have to be prudent until the ground should become dry and warm.
There is no need of dwelling long on the bringing home of our effects and the getting to rights. We were back soon after ten, and found that Winnie and Bobsey, having exhausted the resources of the house, had been permitted to start at the front door, and, with an old fire-shovel and a piece of board, had well-nigh completed a path to the well, piling up the snow as they advanced, so that their overshoes were a sufficient protection.
After we had carried in the things I interceded with Mr. Jones and then told the boys that they could take their guns and be absent two or three hours if they would promise to help faithfully the rest of the day.
I had bought at Maizeville Landing such provisions, tools, etc., as I should need immediately. Therefore I did not worry because the fickle March sky was clouding up again with the promise of rain. A heavy downpour now with snow upon the ground would cause almost a flood, but I felt that we could shut the door and find the old house a very comfortable ark.
”A smart warm rain would be the best thing that could happen to yer,”
said Mr. Jones, as he helped me carry in furniture and put up beds; ”it would take the snow off. Nat'rally you want to get out on the bare ground, for there's allus a lot of clearin' up to be done in the spring and old man Jamison was poorly last year and didn't keep things up to the mark.”
”Yes,” I replied, ”I am as eager to get to work outdoors as the boys were to go after rabbits. I believe I shall like the work, but that is not the question. I did not come to the country to amuse myself, like so many city people. I don't blame them; I wish I could afford farming for fun. I came to earn a living for my wife and children, and I am anxious to be about it. I won't ask you for anything except advice.
I've only had a city training, and my theories about farming would perhaps make you smile. But I've seen enough of you already to feel that you are inclined to be kind and neighborly, and the best way to show this will be in helping me to good, sound, practical, common-sense advice. But you mustn't put on airs, or be impatient with me. Shrewd as you are, I could show you some things in the city.”
”Oh, I'd be a sight queerer there than you here. I see your p'int, and if you'll come to me I won't let you make no blunders I wouldn't make myself. Perhaps that ain't saying a great deal, though.”
By this time everything had been brought in and either put in place or stowed out of the way, until my wife could decide where and how she would arrange things.