Laddy’s Logging.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 470, 10 May 1890, Page 6

Laddy’s Logging.

EDITED BY MRS FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. [COPYRIGHT.]

[All Rights Reserved.]

A STORY OF THE MARIE WOODS. Old Peachblow had told Laddy all about it, over and over again, and so the fault was partly his. Now the logging team was just ready to start for tho woods with supplies, and Laddy’s father, who owned the drive, had gone up with Laddy’s mother, who needed a somewhat unusual outing. And when Laddy bad seen tho prancing black horses shaking off showers of belltones, he had begged hard to go and harder still when he heard there was a hatchet and knife in the sleigh, and saw his father examining his revolvers, there being a rumour of wolves on the way, although a probably baseless rumour. But Laddy’s entreaties had been promptly silenced, and he had been told that it was out of the question ; he must stay and attend to his lessons if he wanted to go to Bowdoin year after next. Well, he didn’t want to go to Bowdoin. He wanted to go to the logging-camp. Year after next 1 was a great way off; the woods, the life there, the stories, the games, the hunting for bears, the gathering of gum, the creaking of logs in the snow, the deerhunt, the escape from the panther or the gaunt, grey wolf, the coming down of the logs at the falls, with the raftsmen skipping round upon them lightly as Mercury in his mythology, handling them with long hooks and springing for dear life as one dexterous thrust loosened the whole mass and sent them rolling and plunging and shooting over the cataract —ail that was close at hand. And Laddy, as he tk ought of it, was bound to be a lumberman, and was heard to sing some dreadful and unintelligible rhyme to himself about being a logger-boy by the jingoes or die. ‘ You are tone now,’ said his sister Anne. 4 Father’s a logger. That makes you a logger-boy.’ 4 1 don’t want to be that kind, and sit in a counting-room. I want to come down on the drive and shoot the rapids, and bring home a caribou’s horns and a catamount’s pelt.’ 4 You bring home a catamount’s pelt, Lawrence Earl! He’d tear you to pieces with his great claws before you could run ! And you’d be scared to death, nights, hearing him cry round the camp !’ ‘Yes,’ said his Aunt Mabel, who taught him his Latin and Greek, 4 it’s quite enough for you to read of the killing in your “ iEneid,” if you want to go to Bowdoin before you’re grey.’ 4 Oh, Bowdoin, Bowdoin ! I don’t want to go to Bowdoin !’ shouted Laddy. I’m tired and sick of hearing about Bowdoin. I’m going to take my nose-monev and buy a township up in the Aroostook and cut off the timber and be a lumberman, just as much as I please.’ 4 1 see you now, blowing your fingers mornings.’ * Great sort of a sister, you !’ cried Laddy. ‘ Any other fellow’s sister ’ 4 Would tell him to take his nose-money —How many bears and wolves would have to be killed, do you think,’ exclaimed Anne. 4 before you got enough money to buy a township, the men paying father ninepence apiece ’ — ‘Oh, don’t bother me with your sums,’ cried Laddy. For the truth was that Mr Earl, being a justice of the peace, the backwoodsmen brought to him the little black and brown noses of the wolves and bears and cubs which they destroyed, and he gave them a certificate which entitled them to collect the bounty paid by the State for the killing of the creatures, and then he gave to the children the ninepences that they paid, and as Anno and the dear little Baby shared this fund with Laddy, it required, indeed, quite an arithmetical process to toll just when Laddy’s share would amount to enough to buy one of the upper plantations in the Aroostook. 4 1 don’t care,’ said Laddy: 4 You know I haven’t the making of a scholar in me’ 4 Nd one has, without work,’ said his aunt.

‘ And I should be a very good ’ * You be a very good boy now,’ said Anne, in an insufferably patronising way, seeing there was only a year's difference between them, ‘ and rock the cradle for me while I go and get my eggs, I found old • Speckle’s nest yesterday.’ Pretty work for a boy who had the making of a very good logger in him, who could swing an axe in a circle round his head—rocking a baby in a cradle ! He rocked it, to be sure ; but he rocked it so hard that the baby rolled on one side and opened her eyes and saw Laddy, the big, beautiful brother whom she adored, and smiled and cooed and held out her pretty hands to be taken up. But Laddy would not notice the little imploring hands, even when the cooing ceased and the grieved lip began to tremble. He left the room and ’vent sauntering out into the yard, and meeting Anne, with her apron • full of eggs, he said, ‘ Your baby’s awake,’ as if it were not as much his sister as hers, and then he took the axe and went to the chopping-block, feeling much too illhumoured even to make his chopping useful with the kindling sticks, although Diand, the old Frenchwoman who ruled the kitchen, could always be coaxed out of a mince turnover by an armful of kindlings. He chopped however till his blood began to circulate better, and he was in quite a happy mood at last when he threw down the axe, for he had made a resolve that was highly satisfying to himself—although it was without a thought of the trouble he was going to bring his Aunt Mabel by it, of the grief and fear with which he was going to make his dear sister Anne lie awake. He had resolved to run away, just ahead of the supply-team, and oblige the men to take him on later, and go to join the log-ging-camp after all and in spite of everybody. As he looked up at the window there stood hip Aunt Mabel with the baby in her arms, patting the pane with her rosy little palms, and presently he heard Anne practising her music at the piano, the spinning song, with the whirr of the wheel, the beat - of the treadle, the song of the spinning girl, and the rußtle of loaves outside, the hum of bees, and stir of wind, and twitter of birds in the branches through it all. And that

the last ho heard and the last he saw of home ; for he put on his reefer, hanging in the back entry, pulled his sealskin cap down over his ears, hung his skates on his arm, and, with his hands buried in his pockets, went down the field to take a short cut and get a start of the team. Laddy felt himself very ill-used. There he was, kept at his books, with’a woman to teach him. too, with nobody but a girl to share his sports, and obliged to look forward to a life of study, when he wanted to be using his muscles, to be shooting and trapping, following deer, snaring small game ■ It was very short-sighted and a great injustice on his father’s part, he reasoned ; and he couldn’t see what his mother could be thinking of, and he was very indignant indeed with his Aunt Mabel, who had insisted on those horrid rules in the subjunctive : and as for Anne, she could chop all the Latin she wished—he preferred to chop wood ! And so nursing his wrath he went walking and running and skipping along, and when he reached the highway got a lift of several miles clinging to the runners of a surveying party’s cutter; had a bowl of bread and milk at a shanty by the wayside, for which lie paid all the pennies in his pocket ; had another ride of a couple of hours on a slow ox-team labouring along to a remote farm, and was already in the woods, not the deep forest of the loggers at the north—that was still a journey oft'—bub where the highway was to be guessed by the open spaces, as there were no marks of travel on the crust of frozen snow, where the air was already obscure, although he could see a bright belt of sunset through the holes of the trees, and where he began to have a desolate sensation. Laddy was nob afraid ; oh no, not he ! Bub it was mighty lonesome. Ho trudged along all the same, and began bo whistle. Presently he stopped whistling—the idea that some one might hear him was —wasnot exactly—pleasant. He wondered why the logging-team did nob come along. Had he made a mistake—and was it tomorrow noon they had been going bo start? Old Peachblow had certainly told him they would be off within the hour, they were only waiting then for Diana to put up tho cold beef and bottle the coffee for them, and to have a little chaffing very likely with her and Susan. He expected to hear the bells every moment. How surprised his father would be when he saw him come riding into the camp with Old Peachblow and Jo ! How angry, too, perhaps, at first. Bub the fact that hi 3 mother was along might counterbalance that; Laddy could see her lovely face in the white fur hood. Still he would have preferred that it should be his grandmother on the scene. But his father would see how impossible it was to drive a boy out of his bent; yes, he would, sir ! And Laddy reflected with pride and joy that now he had taken matters into his own hands, and he plodded on with great resolution. A fellow who had taken things into his own hands could nob afford to be downhearted because the way was long or lonely or dark. If he was—he would nob say the word 4 afraid ’ even to himself—if he was Well, what would he be, then, in the deep woods of the caribou and the catamount! And thereat a picture came before his eyes oE a huge caribou plunging down the forest depths with great bounds, with his nostrils dilating, his black eyes burning, his mighty horns laid back along his shoulders-—and if ever any one was glad it was Laddy then when lie heard a far-off tinkle and presently a peal of sledge bolls and stood still to receive the supply team, with Old Peachblow and Jo, and bo feel his heart swell at the surprised exclamation. 4 Well, he’s a chap of speerit. I vum !’ cried Old Peachblow, when the little fellow stood in the path and halted the horses. 4 1 d’no’s we got anythin’ ter du but ta take him on, but I guess we’ll cure him !’ 4 01’ man’ll bo mad,’ suggested Jo —Laddy’s father wearing that appellation on account of his mastership, not on account of his forty years, certainly. 4 Can’t leave the boy here in this woody place and night coming on, if he is. Pretty kettle of fish ! Up with ye, youngster !’ And tucked under a loc of horse-blankets on top of the load Laddy knew but little more till late the next day, when he found they were still jogging on, having a vague, delightful memory of a misty scene of swinging lanterns and shouting voices as they changed horses in the middle of the night at the half-way house, feeling a little stiff and sore, stretching himself and getting down to walk a bit and limber up with Old Peachblow, and then finding the cold beef and biscuit and bottled coffee as good as nectar and ambrosia. So they plodded on through the day, with a bite here and a sup there, and they stopped at dusk in a sheltered spot where they were to camp for the night in a rude hub left there for the logging parties. 4 Well. This is great,’ said Laddy, standing with his legs far apart in front of the fire which Old Peachblow had snapping outside and sending up clouds of sparks, and where the old fellow was cooking some squirrels he had shot. And when, after a delicious repast, Laddy went to sleep on a pile of hemlock boughs, covered with another pile, he seemed to be on the brink of surprising experiences, and when he waked, in the first red glow of a red sunrise through tho chinks, he felt as if he had been floating on a cloud in the upper sky. *We must hurry up,’ cried Jo, who was quite ready for the march. 4 'Tis thickening for foul weather. Thought so when I see the red sun up.’ And so they broke their fast as they went along, Laddy refreshing himself with an immense icicle, but Old Peachblow refreshing himself from a flask which he carried and tasted much oftener than was best.

With what stories Old Peachblow, who had been a sailor in days bygone, then beguiled the rest of the way ; what harrowing recitals of his wrecks, of his fights with South Sea savages, of his encounters with sharks, of his conquest with crocodiles, of his voyages on icebergs ! And then the stories of the woods, tho big bears that he wrestled with, the ‘ painters ’ he had followed by their scratches on the ice and had shot, the wolves he had outwitted ! Laddy felt that if he were captured himself and sent back to his books and obliged to learn Homer’s list of ships by heart for punishment it would be a cheap price to pay for the joy and satisfaction of this trip. And this trip was but the beginning. Still his heart was not quite so light as it had been as they approached the camp, welcomed by the baying of dogs, the chorus of clicking axes and the shouts of the men driving the oxen that hauled the felled trees to the lake. And his mental temperament rose ninety degrees when he heard that his father and mother had gone on towards the upper camp and would not be back for some hours. Laddy lost no time in making himself familiar with his new surroundings, the long, low house of logs with the bunks inside, the deacon seat where so many good stories were told, the huge fire where the sturdy little cook buried himself frying a barrel of doughnuts at a time. ‘How do you like life here ?’ said he to the cook, somewhat patronjhingly. ‘ First-rate,’was the reply of the monosyllabic potentate, dropping his dough into the fat. ‘ Hunting parties V * Game every evening,’ glancing at various discoloured packets of cards,

Laddy did not see the glance. His eyes sparkled. ‘Ever see a catamount?’ he asked breathlessly. 4 Crying round the camp soon’s it’s dark.’ 4 Really ?’ with his eyes opening wider. 4 Way they hev. Cry like a child ter toll the men out.’ 4 Do they ever go ?’ 4 Who ?’ 4 Why, the men !’ wishing this one wore more communicative. 4 What’d they go for ? Ter be torn ter pieces ?’ 4 Say ! you gob any gum ?’ * The cook pointed to acannistor full of the most delicious looking lumps of pink transparency. 4 Help ycursclf,’ he said, pitchforking at his doughnuts. 4 1 suppose you have all the venison you want?’ said Laddy, sampling the gum. 4 More. Just comes up and asks to bo et. Tired er bein’ rabbits an’ birds an’ deer wants ter bo lumbermen.’ Laddy looked at him a moment, trying to extract what might bo a kernel of truth from the chaff. 4 Can I have a doughnut?' he asked them. 4 All you want.’ And holping himself to that very solid reality, he went out to investigate the oxen, the logging roads, the great frozen lake upon which the logs were hauled to bo all afloat and ready with the breaking up of the ice in the Spring. And then, in less than no time, he had his skates on, and was out careering over that crystal glare of ice, making ‘figgery eights,’ cutting his name with his heel, doing tho outside roll and speeding away over the long reaches among the islands with which the great lake was sprinkled. It was light much longer out on tho open ice than in the dim aisles of the woody places ; and delighted and exhilarated with tho glow of his swift motion. Laddy did not think anything about time till he saw large snowflakes dancing all about him, when he turned and found that the light was only that of a grey gloaming and a chill, damp wind was blowing in his face with a snow-storm on its wings. However, there would be no trouble about skating back, and he went flying against the wind, when all at once the screw of one of his skates snapped and sent him tumbling headlong, rolling over and over. When he had picked himself up and adjusted the skate again ho could not tell in which direction he had been going, up or down, along or across tho lake. The shores all looked alike. There was no light of the camp, whether hidden by the islands or the projecting shores, and try as he might to find the tracks of his skates he could not, either for tho dim light or the snow that had covered and was covering it. The gloom was deepening, too. When he had skated a mile and still saw no lights of the camp ho was suro lie had been turned about and he reversed bis motion and went in the other direction. But still there were no lights—nob a twinkle anywhere, and when he hallooed no answer came bub a faroff echo.

Well, this would never do, he said ; some one of these logging paths would lead to camp of course. And he took off his skates and climbed tho shore, and went trudging and whistling along. But still no lights. Well, hadn’t the camp been on the edge of the lake? He would wind along the edge, then, and sooner or later he must come to it. Alas ! it began to seem as if it would be later, much later, rather than sooner. And now it was more than dusky among the trees ; he had lost the broad gleam of the lake ; he had lost the main logging path along the shore ; he did nob know which one of all the dim openings was the right one : the snow was bewildering; it was already dark—and be was lost himself. When Laddy realized that he was lost in the woods, of a stormy winter’s night, fora moment he ran blindly forward, anyhow, anywhere, till he stopped out of breath. He leaned against a tree then to quiet himself. And then he set his wits at work,and remembered that when he had been skating away from oamp the wind had been directly behind him. If now he faced the wind he must be facing towards the camp, That was easy enough co do.. Bub presently ho found that in among all the eddies of the wood face which way ho would he was always facing tho wind. As soon as he had breath enough ho shouted! with all his might again and again, and only the dull, faint echo answered him —an echo like a child’s cry. All at once he recollected that catamount tolling the men out with a child’s cry, and his heart stood still a moment with dismay. If that woro the catamount! And he fancied he could see its glittering eyeballs and hear its stealthy movement. A sudden fear and horror seized him ; he began to run, trip ping, stumbling, hitting outstretched boughs, fetching down on himself plunges of snow, and finally bringing up against a mos3-covered giant of the wood, his lungs like furnaces, his throat like burning brass. He sat down on a fallen log ; the snow was whirling and floating and falling round him. Now and again a soft bough touched his cheek in a sorb of cold caress. He thought he would lie down under the lee of the log and stay all night, he was so tired. Perhaps sitting there despairingly, his head bent on his knees, the little fellow did lose himself an instant; for he started suddenly as if from a dream of the Wild Huntsman and the spirits of the wood streaming by with lights and shouts in tho forest. Bub he recalled directly his father saying once that a person lost in the woods should on no account go to sleep, but should keep on moving, and he found his feet again, pulled up the collar of his reefer, pulled down the ears of his cap and set out to keep moving. He had a singular hallucination in doing so that somehow he was obeying his father, and experienced a sort of com-' fort from it.

It was a mild snowstorm, and he was obliged to use the more effort with his feet to walk in the damp snow. But he felt that he was now really making headway somewhere,and he trudged and trudged and trudged through the soft snow, quite sure that his way pointed to the camp at last, for if he went on at this rate he must skirt the whole lake before morning. And on he walked and walked. How his legs ached, his back ached, his throat ached, his feet tingled ! He stumbled over a great log again—what was this ? His skates that he had dropped when he sat down and had come near falling asleep? This old moss-covered, velvet-backed giant —were there two of them ? Oh, no ; it was the same tree ! He had come back to it! He had been travelling round and round in a circle ! He sat down again there and leaned against the tree Nothing was of any use In spite of himself the tears spurted forth. He was lost in the wood. He was going to freeze and die here. He was going to be buried in the snow. He should never see his darling mother again Oh, if he had only taken the baby up when she reached her hands to him the other morning ! The spinning song, that tune had been playing when he threw down the axe, sent its sweet sound whirring in his ears now. Oh, he would give all the gum in that canister to see Anne again ! Confound the canister ! he would give anything he ever had or hoped to have. Oh, why had he been such an idiot? Why hadn’t he understood that his father knew best ? Why hadn't he been content with his, own dear home ? How tired he was;!, How hungry ho was !

Why had lie left his grandmother’s slices of bread and jam ? Dian4‘s turnovers, his own white bed, that bright fire on the old winking and blinking knights-at-arms of andirons, the baby’s cooing and gurgling and pretty stammering speech ! Even the old cat, who regarded him as the torment of her life, seemed dear to him at that momen t. Oh ! was it possible he should never see them again ? Was it true that they were all so happy, so warm, so comfortable, and never dreaming of him alone and lost and dying in these dark, stormy woods full of prowling wild beasts? No ; he should never see them again. It was all up with him. He had been a wicked boy ;he must take what came. But how they must all feel ; oh, how badly they would feel ! Annie would cry fib to break her heart. His father would forgive him, but he would declare he never couid forgive himself, and he would be pursued by the sorrow of it all his liie. And his dear, dear, dear mother—the image of her pale, sweet face was too much for him, and ho was crying himself with all his might. And then, weaiied out, and wondering if he should go to heaven, or where, and if it was very hard to die, and sending up now a prayer for his safety, and now a prayer that they might nob feel too badly at home, all at once he was sound asleep, and tho great hemlock tree was bending down its branches heavy with snow about him, and sheltering in its kind embrace tho poor, lost, lonely little fellow. When at last, roused by the commotion about him, the cry of voices, the blast of horns, the flash of lanterns, Laddy sleepily opened his eye 3 again, be might, indeed, have thought it was heaven, with some great light glowing on an angel’s face only he Knew he deserved nobbing of that sort. In another moment he saw that it was his mother, and without asking how she came there he had thrown himself into her arms. Thefaetsin thccaso were thatwhen Laddy had not returned to the camp there had been an alarm given and the whole body of men had gone out in search-parties after him and Old Peachblow. It was one of these parties, passing in the distance, that had brought him back from his instant’s dream of the wild ladies an hour or so before. And his father—driving down from the upper camp, with a jinglo of bells and flashing of sleigh lamp-—just as a group of the men had paused, wondering at this place not far from the wayside, where for a circle of some dozen yards in diameter down round the old post-office tree, the very circle where poor Laddy had done his tramping when his father had stopped and.come to see what was the cause of the excitement ; and his mother had frequently followed and had seen him in beneath the great hemlock boughs first of all. Oh, how sweet and dear his mother was! How warm her arms were—her face like some lovely, bright, cold flower ! Could it be possible—was he found—was he going to see his dear home once more, and Sune, and the baby ? His heart beat in his throat with joy. He felt like kneeling down in the snow and thanking the Great Power that had spared him. And he never noticed the big peajacket that had been spread over him, and from which Old Peachblow was shaking the snow. 4 I’ll—l'll go to Bowdoin, father !’ stammered Laddy. 4 You may punish me—l ought to be punished. I’ll—l’ll learn the lines of the Greek ships by heart, too. I’ll home with you first!’ And he drove off, cuddled under the robes, to the lean-to of bark and boughs beside the long, low log-house, where his father and mother were going to rough it for the night. 4 1 guess he’s cured,’ muttered old Peachblow to Mr Earl, handing up the reins, 4 1 guess he’s cured. I ain’t been fur off none er the time. An’ I guess lie’s had all he wants in logging. An’ I don’t believe he’ll run away to sea nuther !’ Harriet Prescott Sdofford.