Part 13 (2/2)
”I propose,” said Louis, ”retreating, bag and baggage, to the nearest point of Long Island.”
”My French cousin has well spoken,” said Hector, mimicking the Indian mode of speaking; ”but listen to the words of the wise. I propose to take all our household stores that are of the most value to the island, and lodge the rest safely in our new root-house, first removing from its neighbourhood all such light, loose matter as is likely to take fire. The earthen roof will save it from destruction.
As to the shanty, it must take its chance to stand or fall.”
”The fence of the little clearing will be burned, no doubt. Well, never mind; better that than our precious selves. And the corn, fortunately, is not yet sown,” said Louis.
Hector's advice met with general approval, and the girls soon set to work to secure the property they meant to leave.
It was a fortunate thing that the root-house had been finished, as it formed a secure store-house for their goods, and could also be made available as a hiding-place from the Indians, in time of need. The boys carefully sc.r.a.ped away all the combustible matter from its vicinity and that of the house; but the rapid increase of the fire now warned them to hurry down to join Catharine and the young Mohawk, who had gone off to the lake sh.o.r.e with such things as they required to take with them.
CHAPTER XI.
”I know a lake where the cool waves break And softly fall on the silver sand; And no stranger intrudes on that solitude, And no voices but ours disturb the strand.”
_Irish Song_
The breeze had sprung up, and had already brought the fire down as far as the creek. The swamp had long been on fire; and now the flames were leaping among the decayed timbers, roaring and crackling among the pines, and rus.h.i.+ng to the tops of the cedars, springing from heap to heap of the fallen branches, and filling the air with dense volumes of black and suffocating smoke. So quickly did the flames advance that Hector and Louis had only time to push off the canoe before the heights along the sh.o.r.e were wrapped in smoke and fire. Many a giant oak and n.o.ble pine fell cras.h.i.+ng to the earth, sending up showers of red sparks as its burning trunk s.h.i.+vered in its fall. Glad to escape from the suffocating vapour, the boys quickly paddled out to the island, enjoying the cool, fresh air of the lake. Reposing on the gra.s.s beneath the trees, they pa.s.sed the day sheltered from the noonday sun, and watched the progress of the fire upon the sh.o.r.e. At night the girls slept securely under the canoe, which they raised on one side by means of forked sticks stuck in the ground.
It was a grand sight to see the burning Plains at night reflected on the water. A thousand flaming torches flickered upon its still surface, to which the glare of a gas-lighted city would have been dim and dull by contrast.
Louis and Hector would speculate on the probable chances of the shanty escaping from the fire, and of the fence remaining untouched. Of the safety of the root-house they entertained no fear, as the gra.s.s was already springing green on the earthen roof; and, below they had taken every precaution to secure its safety, by sc.r.a.ping up the earth near it. [Footnote: Many a crop of grain and comfortable homestead has been saved by turning a furrow round the field; and great conflagrations have been effectually stopped by men beating the fire out with spades, and hoeing up the fresh earth so as to cut off all communication with the dry roots, gra.s.s, and leaves that feed its onward progress. Water, even could it be got, which is often impossible, is not nearly so effectual in stopping the progress of fire; even women and little children can a.s.sist in such emergencies.]
Catharine lamented for the lovely spring-flowers that would be destroyed by the fire.
”We shall have neither huckleberries nor strawberries this summer,”
she said mournfully; ”and the pretty roses and bushes will be scorched, and the ground black and dreary.”
”The fire pa.s.ses so rapidly over that it does not destroy many of the forest trees, only the dead ones are destroyed; and that, you know, leaves more s.p.a.ce for the living ones to grow and thrive in,” said Hector. ”I have seen the year after a fire has run in the bush, a new and fresh set of plants spring up, and even some that looked withered recover; the earth is renewed and manured by the ashes, and it is not so great a misfortune as it at first appears.”
”But how black and dismal the burned pine-woods look for years!” said Louis; ”I do not think there is a more melancholy sight in life than one of those burned pine-woods. There it stands, year after year, with the black, branchless trees pointing up to the blue sky, as if crying for vengeance against those that kindled the fire.”
”They do, indeed, look ugly,” said Catharine, ”yet the girdled ones look very nearly as ill.” [Footnote: The girdled pines are killed by barking them round, to facilitate the clearing.]
At the end of two days the fire had ceased to rage, though the dim smoke-wreaths to the westward showed where the work of destruction was still going on.
As there was no appearance of any Indians on the lake, nor yet at the point (Anderson's Point, as it is now called) on the other side, they concluded the fire had possibly originated by accident,--some casual hunter or trapper having left his camp-fire unextinguished; but as they were not very likely to come across the scene of the conflagration, they decided on returning back to their old home without delay. It was with some feeling of anxiety that they hastened to see what evil had befallen their shanty.
”The shanty is burned!” was the simultaneous exclamation of both Louis and Hector, as they reached the rising ground that should have commanded a view of its roof. ”It is well for us that we secured our things in the root-house,” said Hector.
”Well, if that is safe, who cares? we can soon build up a new house, larger and better than the old one,” said Louis. ”The chief part of our fence is gone, too, I see; but that, we can renew at our leisure; no hurry, if we get it done a month hence, say I.--Come, ma belle, do not look so sorrowful. There is our little squaw will help us to set up a capital wigwam while the new house is building.”
”But the nice table that you made, Louis, and the benches and shelves!”
”Never mind, Cathy; we will have better tables, and benches, and shelves too. Never fear, ma chere; the same industrious Louis will make things comfortable. I am not sorry the old shanty is down; we shall have a famous one put up, twice as large, for the winter. After the corn is planted we shall have nothing else to do but to think about it.”
The next two or three days were spent in erecting a wigwam, with poles and birch bark; and as the weather was warm and pleasant, they did not feel the inconvenience so much as they would have done had it been earlier in the season. The root-house formed an excellent store-house and pantry; and Indiana contrived, in putting up the wigwam, to leave certain loose folds between the birch-bark lining and outer covering, which formed a series of pouches or bags, in which many articles could be stowed away out of sight. [Footnote: In this way the winter wigwams of the Indians are constructed so as to give plenty of stowing room for all their little household matters, materials for work, &c.]
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