CHAPTER XX. ROUND THE FIRE
With the October frosts came the cheery fires in the great fireplaces;and Demi's dry pine-chips helped Dan's oak-knots to blaze royally, andgo roaring up the chimney with a jolly sound. All were glad to gatherround the hearth, as the evenings grew longer, to play games, read, orlay plans for the winter. But the favorite amusement was story-telling,and Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer were expected to have a store of lively talesalways on hand. Their supply occasionally gave out, and then the boyswere thrown upon their own resources, which were not always successful.Ghost-parties were the rage at one time; for the fun of the thingconsisted in putting out the lights, letting the fire die down, and thensitting in the dark, and telling the most awful tales they could invent.As this resulted in scares of all sorts among the boys, Tommy's walkingin his sleep on the shed roof, and a general state of nervousness inthe little ones, it was forbidden, and they fell back on more harmlessamusements.
One evening, when the small boys were snugly tucked in bed, and theolder lads were lounging about the school-room fire, trying to decidewhat they should do, Demi suggested a new way of settling the question.
Seizing the hearth-brush, he marched up and down the room, saying, "Row,row, row;" and when the boys, laughing and pushing, had got into line,he said, "Now, I'll give you two minutes to think of a play." Franz waswriting, and Emil reading the Life of Lord Nelson, and neither joinedthe party, but the others thought hard, and when the time was up wereready to reply.
"Now, Tom!" and the poker softly rapped him on the head.
"Blind-man's Buff."
"Jack!"
"Commerce; a good round game, and have cents for the pool."
"Uncle forbids our playing for money. Dan, what do you want?"
"Let's have a battle between the Greeks and Romans."
"Stuffy?"
"Roast apples, pop corn, and crack nuts."
"Good! good!" cried several; and when the vote was taken, Stuffy'sproposal carried the day.
Some went to the cellar for apples, some to the garret for nuts, andothers looked up the popper and the corn.
"We had better ask the girls to come in, hadn't we?" said Demi, in asudden fit of politeness.
"Daisy pricks chestnuts beautifully," put in Nat, who wanted his littlefriend to share the fun.
"Nan pops corn tip-top, we must have her," added Tommy.
"Bring in your sweethearts then, we don't mind," said Jack, who laughedat the innocent regard the little people had for one another.
"You shan't call my sister a sweetheart; it is so silly!" cried Demi, ina way that made Jack laugh.
"She is Nat's darling, isn't she, old chirper?"
"Yes, if Demi don't mind. I can't help being fond of her, she is so goodto me," answered Nat, with bashful earnestness, for Jack's rough waysdisturbed him.
"Nan is my sweetheart, and I shall marry her in about a year, so don'tyou get in the way, any of you," said Tommy, stoutly; for he and Nanhad settled their future, child-fashion, and were to live in the willow,lower down a basket for food, and do other charmingly impossible things.
Demi was quenched by the decision of Bangs, who took him by the arm andwalked him off to get the ladies. Nan and Daisy were sewing with Aunt Joon certain small garments, for Mrs. Carney's newest baby.
"Please, ma'am, could you lend us the girls for a little while? We'llbe very careful of them," said Tommy, winking one eye to express apples,snapping his fingers to signify pop-corn, and gnashing his teeth toconvey the idea of nut-cracking.
The girls understood this pantomime at once, and began to pull oftheir thimbles before Mrs. Jo could decide whether Tommy was goinginto convulsions or was brewing some unusual piece of mischief. Demiexplained with elaboration, permission was readily granted, and the boysdeparted with their prize.
"Don't you speak to Jack," whispered Tommy, as he and Nan promenadeddown the hall to get a fork to prick the apples.
"Why not?"
"He laughs at me, so I don't wish you to have any thing to do with him."
"Shall, if I like," said Nan, promptly resenting this prematureassumption of authority on the part of her lord.
"Then I won't have you for my sweetheart."
"I don't care."
"Why, Nan, I thought you were fond of me!" and Tommy's voice was full oftender reproach.
"If you mind Jack's laughing I don't care for you one bit."
"Then you may take back your old ring; I won't wear it any longer;" andTommy plucked off a horsehair pledge of affection which Nan had givenhim in return for one made of a lobster's feeler.
"I shall give it to Ned," was her cruel reply; for Ned liked Mrs.Giddy-gaddy, and had turned her clothespins, boxes, and spools enough toset up housekeeping with.
Tommy said, "Thunder turtles!" as the only vent equal to the pent-upanguish of the moment, and, dropping Nan's arm, retired in high dudgeon,leaving her to follow with the fork, a neglect which naughty Nanpunished by proceeding to prick his heart with jealousy as if it wereanother sort of apple.
The hearth was swept, and the rosy Baldwins put down to roast. A shovelwas heated, and the chestnuts danced merrily upon it, while the cornpopped wildly in its wire prison. Dan cracked his best walnuts, andevery one chattered and laughed, while the rain beat on the window-paneand the wind howled round the house.
"Why is Billy like this nut?" asked Emil, who was frequently inspiredwith bad conundrums.
"Because he is cracked," answered Ned.
"That's not fair; you mustn't make fun of Billy, because he can't hitback again. It's mean," cried Dan, smashing a nut wrathfully.
"To what family of insects does Blake belong?" asked peacemaker Franz,seeing that Emil looked ashamed and Dan lowering.
"Gnats," answered Jack.
"Why is Daisy like a bee?" cried Nat, who had been wrapt in thought forseveral minutes.
"Because she is queen of the hive," said Dan.
"No."
"Because she is sweet."
"Bees are not sweet."
"Give it up."
"Because she makes sweet things, is always busy, and likes flowers,"said Nat, piling up his boyish compliments till Daisy blushed like arosy clover.
"Why is Nan like a hornet?" demanded Tommy, glowering at her, andadding, without giving any one time to answer, "Because she isn't sweet,makes a great buzzing about nothing, and stings like fury."
"Tommy's mad, and I'm glad," cried Ned, as Nan tossed her head andanswered quickly,
"What thing in the china-closet is Tom like?"
"A pepper pot," answered Ned, giving Nan a nut meat with a tantalizinglaugh that made Tommy feel as if he would like to bounce up like a hotchestnut and hit somebody.
Seeing that ill-humor was getting the better of the small supply of witin the company, Franz cast himself into the breach again.
"Let's make a law that the first person who comes into the room shalltell us a story. No matter who it is, he must do it, and it will be funto see who comes first."
The others agreed, and did not have to wait long, for a heavy step sooncame clumping through the hall, and Silas appeared, bearing an armfulof wood. He was greeted by a general shout, and stood staring about himwith a bewildered grin on his big red face, till Franz explained thejoke.
"Sho! I can't tell a story," he said, putting down his load andpreparing to leave the room. But the boys fell upon him, forced him intoa seat, and held him there, laughing, and clamoring for their story,till the good-natured giant was overpowered.
"I don't know but jest one story, and that's about a horse," he said,much flattered by the reception he received.
"Tell it! tell it!" cried the boys.
"Wal," began Silas, tipping his chair back against the wall, andputting his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, "I jined a cavalryregiment durin' the war, and see a consid'able amount of fightin'. Myhorse, Major, was a fust-rate animal, and I was as fond on him asef he'd ben a human critter. He warn't harnsome, but he was thebest-tem
pered, stiddyest, lovenest brute I ever see. I fust battle wewent into, he gave me a lesson that I didn't forgit in a hurry, andI'll tell you how it was. It ain't no use tryin' to picter the noise andhurry, and general horridness of a battle to you young fellers, for Iain't no words to do it in; but I'm free to confess that I got so sortof confused and upset at the fust on it, that I didn't know what I wasabout. We was ordered to charge, and went ahead like good ones, neverstoppin' to pick up them that went down in the scrimmage. I got a shotin the arm, and was pitched out of the saddle don't know how, but thereI was left behind with two or three others, dead and wounded, for therest went on, as I say. Wal, I picked myself up and looked round forMajor, feeling as ef I'd had about enough for that spell. I didn't seehim nowhere, and was kinder walking back to camp, when I heard a whinnythat sounded nateral. I looked round, and there was Major stopping forme a long way off, and lookin' as ef he didn't understand why I wasloiterin' behind. I whistled, and he trotted up to me as I'd trained himto do. I mounted as well as I could with my left arm bleedin' and wasfor going on to camp, for I declare I felt as sick and wimbly as awoman; folks often do in their fust battle. But, no sir! Major was thebravest of the two, and he wouldn't go, not a peg; he jest rared up, anddanced, and snorted, and acted as ef the smell of powder and the noisehad drove him half wild. I done my best, but he wouldn't give in, soI did; and what do you think that plucky brute done? He wheeled slapround, and galloped back like a hurricane, right into the thickest ofthe scrimmage!"
"Good for him!" cried Dan excitedly, while the other boys forgot applesand nuts in their interest.
"I wish I may die ef I warn't ashamed of myself," continued Silas,warming up at the recollection of that day. "I was mad as a hornet, andI forgot my waound, and jest pitched in, rampagin' raound like fury tillthere come a shell into the midst of us, and in bustin' knocked a lotof us flat. I didn't know nothin' for a spell, and when I come-to, thefight was over just there, and I found myself layin' by a wall of poorMajor long-side wuss wounded than I was. My leg was broke, and I had aball in my shoulder, but he, poor old feller! was all tore in the sidewith a piece of that blasted shell."
"O Silas! what did you do?" cried Nan, pressing close to him with a facefull of eager sympathy and interest.
"I dragged myself nigher, and tried to stop the bleedin' with sech ragsas I could tear off of me with one hand. But it warn't no use, and helay moanin' with horrid pain, and lookin' at me with them lovin' eyes ofhis, till I thought I couldn't bear it. I give him all the help I could,and when the sun got hotter and hotter, and he began to lap out histongue, I tried to get to a brook that was a good piece away, but Icouldn't do it, being stiff and faint, so I give it up and fanned himwith my hat. Now you listen to this, and when you hear folks comin' downon the rebs, you jest remember what one on 'em did, and give him creditof it. I poor feller in gray laid not fur off, shot through the lungsand dyin' fast. I'd offered him my handkerchief to keep the sun off hisface, and he'd thanked me kindly, for in sech times as that men don'tstop to think on which side they belong, but jest buckle-to and help oneanother. When he see me mournin' over Major and tryin' to ease his pain,he looked up with his face all damp and white with sufferin', and sezhe, 'There's water in my canteen; take it, for it can't help me,' and heflung it to me. I couldn't have took it ef I hadn't had a little brandyin a pocket flask, and I made him drink it. It done him good, and I feltas much set up as if I'd drunk it myself. It's surprisin' the good sechlittle things do folks sometime;" and Silas paused as if he felt againthe comfort of that moment when he and his enemy forgot their feud, andhelped one another like brothers.
"Tell about Major," cried the boys, impatient for the catastrophe.
"I poured the water over his poor pantin' tongue, and ef ever a dumbcritter looked grateful, he did then. But it warn't of much use, forthe dreadful waound kep on tormentin' him, till I couldn't bear it anylonger. It was hard, but I done it in mercy, and I know he forgive me."
"What did you do?" asked Emil, as Silas stopped abruptly with a loud"hem," and a look in his rough face that made Daisy go and stand by himwith her little hand on his knee.
"I shot him."
Quite a thrill went through the listeners as Silas said that, forMajor seemed a hero in their eyes, and his tragic end roused all theirsympathy.
"Yes, I shot him, and put him out of his misery. I patted him fust, andsaid, 'Good-by;' then I laid his head easy on the grass, give a lastlook into his lovin' eyes, and sent a bullet through his head. He hardlystirred, I aimed so true, and when I seen him quite still, with no moremoanin' and pain, I was glad, and yet wal, I don't know as I need byashamed on't I jest put my arms raound his neck and boo-hooed like agreat baby. Sho! I didn't know I was sech a fool;" and Silas drew hissleeve across his eyes, as much touched by Daisy's sob, as by the memoryof faithful Major.
No one spoke for a minute, because the boys were as quick to feel thepathos of the little story as tender-hearted Daisy, though they did notshow it by crying.
"I'd like a horse like that," said Dan, half-aloud.
"Did the rebel man die, too?" asked Nan, anxiously.
"Not then. We laid there all day, and at night some of our fellers cameto look after the missing ones. They nat'rally wanted to take me fust,but I knew I could wait, and the rebel had but one chance, maybe, so Imade them carry him off right away. He had jest strength enough to holdout his hand to me and say, 'Thanky, comrade!' and them was the lastwords he spoke, for he died an hour after he got to the hospital-tent."
"How glad you must have been that you were kind to him!" said Demi, whowas deeply impressed by this story.
"Wal, I did take comfort thinkin' of it, as I laid there alone for anumber of hours with my head on Major's neck, and see the moon come up.I'd like to have buried the poor beast decent, but it warn't possible;so I cut off a bit of his mane, and I've kep it ever sence. Want to seeit, sissy?"
"Oh, yes, please," answered Daisy, wiping away her tears to look.
Silas took out an old "wallet" as he called his pocket-book, andproduced from an inner fold a bit of brown paper, in which was a roughlock of white horse-hair. The children looked at it silently, as it layin the broad palm, and no one found any thing to ridicule in the loveSilas bore his good horse Major.
"That is a sweet story, and I like it, though it did make me cry. Thankyou very much, Si," and Daisy helped him fold and put away his littlerelic; while Nan stuffed a handful of pop-corn into his pocket, and theboys loudly expressed their flattering opinions of his story, feelingthat there had been two heroes in it.
He departed, quite overcome by his honors, and the little conspiratorstalked the tale over, while they waited for their next victim. It wasMrs. Jo, who came in to measure Nan for some new pinafores she wasmaking for her. They let her get well in, and then pounced upon her,telling her the law, and demanding the story. Mrs. Jo was very muchamused at the new trap, and consented at once, for the sound of happyvoices had been coming across the hall so pleasantly that she quitelonged to join them, and forget her own anxious thoughts of Sister Meg.
"Am I the first mouse you have caught, you sly pussies-in-boots?"she asked, as she was conducted to the big chair, supplied withrefreshments, and surrounded by a flock of merry-faced listeners.
They told her about Silas and his contribution, and she slapped herforehead in despair, for she was quite at her wits' end, being calledupon so unexpectedly for a bran new tale.
"What shall I tell about?" she said.
"Boys," was the general answer.
"Have a party in it," said Daisy.
"And something good to eat," added Stuffy.
"That reminds me of a story, written years ago, by a dear old lady. Iused to be very fond of it, and I fancy you will like it, for it hasboth boys, and 'something good to eat' in it."
"What is it called?" asked Demi.
"'The Suspected Boy.'"
Nat looked up from the nuts he was picking, and Mrs. Jo smiled at him,guessing what was in his mind.
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"Miss Crane kept a school for boys in a quiet little town, and a verygood school it was, of the old-fashioned sort. Six boys lived in herhouse, and four or five more came in from the town. Among those wholived with her was one named Lewis White. Lewis was not a bad boy, butrather timid, and now and then he told a lie. One day a neighbor sentMiss Crane a basket of gooseberries. There were not enough to go round,so kind Miss Crane, who liked to please her boys, went to work and madea dozen nice little gooseberry tarts."
"I'd like to try gooseberry tarts. I wonder if she made them as I domy raspberry ones," said Daisy, whose interest in cooking had latelyrevived.
"Hush," said Nat, tucking a plump pop-corn into her mouth to silenceher, for he felt a particular interest in this tale, and thought itopened well.
"When the tarts were done, Miss Crane put them away in the best parlorcloset, and said not a word about them, for she wanted to surprise theboys at tea-time. When the minute came and all were seated at table, shewent to get her tarts, but came back looking much troubled, for what doyou think had happened?"