Stuyvesant: A Franconia Story

“I wish you had time to shut the doors,” said Dorothy.

“In a minute,” said Phonny, “I am coming back in a minute, and then I will.”

So saying Phonny went into a sort of hall or entry which passed through the house, and which had doors in it leading to the principal rooms. There was a staircase here. Phonny supposed that Malleville was up in his mother’s chamber. So he stood at the foot of the stairs and began to call her with a loud voice.

“Malleville!” said he, “Malleville! Where are you? Come and see my squirrel.”

Presently a door opened above, and Phonny heard some one stepping out.

“Malleville,” said Phonny, “is that you?”

“No,” said a voice above, “it is Wallace. I have come to give you your first warning.”

“Why, I only wanted to show my squirrel to Malleville,” said Phonny.

“You are making a great disturbance,” said Wallace, “and besides, though I don’t know any thing about it, I presume that you came in a noisy manner through the kitchen and left all the doors open there.”

“Well,” said Phonny, “I will be still.”

So Phonny turned round and went away on tiptoe. When he got into the kitchen, he first shut the doors, and then carried the trap to Dorothy, and let her peep through the hole which the squirrel had gnawed and see the squirrel inside.

“Do you see him?” asked Phonny.

“I see the tip of his tail,” said Dorothy, “curling over. The whole squirrel is there somewhere, I’ve no doubt.”

Phonny then went out again to find Stuyvesant. He was careful to walk softly and to shut all the doors after him.

He found Stuyvesant and Beechnut in the barn. Beechnut was raking up the loose hay which had been pitched down upon the barn floor, and Stuyvesant was standing beside him.

“Beechnut,” said Phonny, “just look at my squirrel. You can peep through this little hole where he was trying to gnaw out.”

Phonny held the trap up and Beechnut peeped through the hole.

“Yes,” said he, “I see the top of his head His name is Frink.”

“Frink?” repeated Phonny, “how do you know?”

“I think that must be his name,” said Beechnut. “If you don’t believe it, try and see if you can make him answer to any other name. If you can I’ll give it up.”

“Nonsense, Beechnut,” said Phonny. “That is only some of your fun. But Frink will be a very good name for him, nevertheless. Only I was going to call him Bunny.”

“I don’t think his name is Bunny,” said Beechnut. “I knew Bunny. He was a squirrel that belonged to Rodolphus. He got away and ran off into the woods, but I don’t think that this is the same one.”

“I’ll call him Frink,” said Phonny. “But what would you do with him if you were in my place?”

“Me?” said Beechnut.

“Yes,” said Phonny.

“Well, I think,” said Beechnut, stopping his work a moment, and leaning on his rake, and drawing a long breath, as if what he was about to say was the result of very anxious deliberation, “I think that on the whole, if that squirrel were mine, I should put two large baskets up in the barn-chamber, and send him into the woods this fall to get beechnuts, and hazelnuts, and fill the baskets. One basket for beechnuts and one for hazelnuts, and I would give him a month to fill them.”

“Nonsense, Beechnut,” said Phonny, “you are only making fun. If I were to let him go off into the woods, he never would come back again.”

“Why, do you suppose,” said Beechnut, “that he would rather be running about in the woods than to live in that trap?”

“Yes,” said Phonny.

“Then,” said Beechnut, “you must make him a beautiful cage, and have it so convenient and comfortable for him, that he shall like it better than he does the woods. That would not be difficult, one would suppose, because he has nothing but holes in the ground and old hollow logs in the woods.”

“I know that,” said Phonny; “but then I don’t think he would like any house that I could make him, so well as he does the old logs.”

“Then I don’t know what you will do,” said Beechnut, “to make him contented.”

So saying Beechnut went away, leaving Phonny and Stuyvesant together. They talked a few minutes about the squirrel, and then began to walk along toward the house.

As they walked along, they heard the bell ring for dinner.

“There,” said Phonny, “there is the dinner-bell, what shall we do now? Where shall I put my squirrel while we are in at dinner?”

“Haven’t you got some sort of cage to put him in?” said Stuyvesant.

“No,” said Phonny, “I was going to make one after dinner in my shop. I have got a shop, did you know it?”

“Yes,” said Stuyvesant, “Beechnut told me.”

“Only my tools are rather dull,” added Phonny. “But I think I can make a cage with them.”

“You might put the trap in the shop, on the bench,” said Stuyvesant, “till after dinner, and then make your cage.”

“Well,” said Phonny, “so I will.”

So the two boys went into the shop. The room was indeed in great confusion. The floor was covered with chips and shavings. The tools were lying in disorder on the bench. There was a saw-horse in the middle of the room, tumbled over upon one side, because one of the legs was out. The handle was out of the hatchet, and one of the claws of the hammer was broken.

While Stuyvesant was surveying this scene of disorder, Phonny advanced to the bench, and pushing away the tools from one corner of it, he put the trap down.

“There!” said he, “he will be safe there till after dinner.”

“Only,” said Stuyvesant, “he may finish gnawing out.”

“I will stop him up,” said Phonny.

So saying he took the foreplane, which is a tool formed of a steel cutter, set in a pretty long and heavy block of wood, and placed it directly before the hole in the trap. “There!” said he, “now if he does gnaw the hole big enough, he can’t get out, for he can’t push the plane away.”

“Perhaps he will be hungry,” said Stuyvesant.

“No,” said Phonny, “for there was half an ear of corn tied to the spindle for bait, and he has not eaten but a very little of it yet, I can see by peeping in.”

“Then, perhaps, he will be thirsty,” said Stuyvesant.