Storytelling. The adventure of the three students and other stories

“Oh, up in trees or on beds of leaves, like the fellows in our books. If you are afraid, stay at home; I’m going to have no end of a good time.” And Tommy crammed the things back into his pockets as if there were no time to lose.

“Pooh! I ain’t afraid. Come on!” And jumping down Billy caught up his rod, rather ashamed of his many questions.

No one was looking at them, and they might have walked quietly off; but that the “running away” might be all right, both raced down the road, tumbled over a wall, and dashed into the woods as if a whole tribe of wild Indians were after them.

“Do you know the way?” panted Billy, when at last they stopped for breath.

“Yes, it winds right up the mountain; but we’d better not keep to it, or some one will see us and take us back. We are going to be real hunters and have adventures; so we must get lost, and find our way by the sun and the stars,” answered Tommy, who had read so many Boys’ Books his little head was a jumble of Texan Rangers, African Explorers, and Buffalo Bills; and he burned to outdo them all.

“What will our mothers say if we really get lost?” asked Billy, always ready with a question.

“Mine won’t fuss. She lets me do what I like.”

That was true; for Tommy’s poor mamma was tired of trying to keep the lively little fellow in order, and had got used to seeing him come out of all his scrapes without much harm.

“Mine will be scared; she’s always afraid I’m going to get hurt, so I’m careful. But I guess I’ll risk it, and have some fun to tell about when we go home,” said Billy, trudging after Captain Tommy, who always took the lead.

These eleven-year-old boys were staying with their mothers at a farm-house up among the mountains; and having got tired of the tame bears, the big barn, the trout brook, the thirty colts at pasture, and the society of the few little girls and younger boys at the hotel near by, these fine fellows longed to break loose and “rough it in the bush,” as the hunters did in their favorite stories.

Away they went, deeper and deeper into the great forest that covered the side of the mountain. A pleasant place that August day; for it was cool and green, with many brooks splashing over the rocks, or lying in brown pools under the ferns. Squirrels chattered and raced in the tall pines; now and then a gray rabbit skipped out of sight among the brakes, or a strange bird flew by. Here and there blackberries grew in the open places, sassafras bushes were plentiful, and black-birch bark was ready for chewing.

“Don’t you call this nice?” asked Tommy, pausing at last in a little dell where a noisy brook came tumbling down the mountain side, and the pines sung overhead.

“Yes; but I’m awful hungry. Let’s rest and eat our lunch,” said Billy, sitting down on a cushion of moss.

“You always want to be stuffing and resting,” answered sturdy Tommy, who liked to be moving all the time.

He took the fishing-basket, which hung over his shoulder by a strap, and opened it carefully; for good Mrs. Mullin had packed a nice lunch of bread and butter, cake and peaches, with a bottle of milk, and two large pickles slipped in on the sly to please the boys.

Tommy’s face grew very sober as he looked in, for all he saw was a box of worms for bait and an old jacket.

“By George! we’ve got the wrong basket. This is Mullin’s, and he’s gone off with our prog. Won’t he be mad?”

“Not as mad as I am. Why didn’t you look? You are always in such a hurry to start. What shall we do now without anything to eat?” whined Billy; for losing his lunch was a dreadful blow to him.

“We shall have to catch some fish and eat blackberries. Which will you do, old cry-baby?” said Tommy, laughing at the other boy’s dismal face.

“I’ll fish; I’m so tired I can’t go scratching round after berries. I don’t love ‘em, either.” And Billy began to fix his line and bait his hook.

“Lucky we got the worms; you can eat ‘em if you can’t wait for fish,” said Tommy, bustling about to empty the basket and pile up their few possessions in a heap. “There’s a quiet pool below here, you go and fish there. I’ll pick the berries, and then show you how to get dinner in the woods. This is our camp; so fly round and do your best.”

Then Tommy ran off to a place near by where he had seen the berries, while Billy found a comfortable nook by the pool, and sat scowling at the water so crossly, it was a wonder any trout came to his hook. But the fat worms tempted several small ones, and he cheered up at the prospect of food. Tommy whistled while he picked, and in half an hour came back with two quarts of nice berries and an armful of dry sticks for the fire.

“We’ll have a jolly dinner, after all,” he said, as the flames went crackling up, and the dry leaves made a pleasant smell.

“Got four, but don’t see how we’ll ever cook ‘em; no frying-pan,” grumbled Billy, throwing down the four little trout, which he had half cleaned.

“Don’t want any. Broil ‘em on the coals, or toast ‘em on a forked stick. I’ll show you how,” said cheerful Tommy, whittling away, and feeding his fire as much like a real hunter as a small boy could be.

While he worked, Billy ate berries and sighed for bread and butter. At last, after much trouble, two of the trout were half cooked and eagerly eaten by the hungry boys. But they were very different from the nice brown ones Mrs. Mullin gave them; for in spite of Tommy’s struggles they would fall in the ashes, and there was no salt to eat with them. By the time the last were toasted, the young hunters were so hungry they could have eaten anything, and not a berry was left.

“I set the trap down there, for I saw a hole among the vines, and I shouldn’t wonder if we got a rabbit or something,” said Tommy, when the last bone was polished. “You go and catch some more fish, and I’ll see if I have caught any old chap as he went home to dinner.”

Off ran Tommy; and the other boy went slowly back to the brook, wishing with all his might he was at home eating sweet corn and berry pie.

The trout had evidently gone to their dinners, for not one bite did poor Billy get; and he was just falling asleep when a loud shout gave him such a fright that he tumbled into the brook up to his knees.

“I’ve got him! Come and see! He’s a bouncer,” roared Tommy, from the berry bushes some way off.

Billy scrambled out, and went as fast as his wet boots would let him, to see what the prize was. He found Tommy dancing wildly round a fat gray animal, who was fighting to get his paws out of the trap, and making a queer noise as he struggled about.

“What is it?” asked Billy, getting behind a tree as fast as possible, for the thing looked fierce, and he was very timid.

“A raccoon, I guess, or a big woodchuck. Won’t his fur make a fine cap? I guess the other fellows will wish they’d come with us.” said Tommy, prancing to and fro, without the least idea what to do with the creature.

“He’ll bite. We’d better run away and wait till he’s dead,” said Billy.

“Wish he’d got his head in, then I could carry him off; but he does look savage, so we’ll have to leave him awhile, and get him when we come back. But he’s a real beauty.” And Tommy looked proudly at the bunch of gray fur scuffling in the sand.

“Can we ever eat him?” asked hungry Billy, ready for a fried crocodile if he could get it.

“If he’s a raccoon, we can; but I don’t know about woodchucks. The fellows in my books don’t seem to have caught any. He’s nice and fat; we might try him when he’s dead,” said Tommy, who cared more for the skin to show than the best meal ever cooked.

The sound of a gun echoing through the wood gave Tommy a good idea, -

“Let’s find the man and get him to shoot this chap; then we needn’t wait, but skin him right away, and eat him too.”

Off they went to the camp; and catching up their things, the two hunters hurried away in the direction of the sound, feeling glad to know that some one was near them, for two or three hours of wood life made them a little homesick.

They ran and scrambled, and listened and called; but not until they had gone a long way up the mountain did they find the man, resting in an old hut left by the lumbermen. The remains of his dinner were spread on the floor, and he lay smoking, and reading a newspaper, while his dog dozed at his feet, close to a well-filled game-bag.

He looked surprised when two dirty, wet little boys suddenly appeared before him, – one grinning cheerfully, the other looking very dismal and scared as the dog growled and glared at them as if they were two rabbits.

“Hollo!” said the man

“Hollo!” answered Tommy.

“Who are you?” asked the man.

“Hunters,” said Tommy.

“Had good luck?” And the man laughed.

“First-rate. Got a raccoon in our trap, and we want you to come and shoot him,” answered Tommy, proudly.

“Sure?” said the man, looking interested as well as amused.

“No, but I think so.”