CHAPTER XIII. CANNOT GIVE IT UP.
Occurrences very trifling, in themselves considered, often lead to important results. The boyish whim of making a fireplace on the raft, and constructing dishes from clay, developed a capacity in Sammy Sumerford of the existence of which he was before unconscious; and was productive of most useful results, affecting the entire community in which he lived.
The other boys, when they had succeeded in making and burning the bowls, satisfied with accomplishing their present purpose, seemed to have exhausted their enthusiasm in that direction. It was far otherwise with Sammy. At night, morning, and even sometimes at noon, he would steal away by himself to the clay-pit. He also held a good many private conferences with Mr. Seth, going to the mill for that purpose. We will take the liberty to repeat one of them.
"Mr. Seth, you know my mother's got an earthen milk-pan, and Mrs. Holdness has got two: where did they come from?"
"Baltimore."
"Who made 'em?"
"A potter by the name of Bickford. He makes pans, jugs, bowls, and teapots, out of clay."
"My mother's pan don't leak a drop, not when she puts hot water in it; but we boys made some things out of clay, and baked 'em just as we do our marbles, and the water and soup we put in 'em soaked through."
"It didn't soak through faster than you could eat it, did it?"
"No, sir; but when we let it set, after a good while, it did. What's the reason milk nor nothing else won't go through mother's pan?"
"'Cause it's glazed, and probably burned harder than yours. Didn't you see that the inside was of a different color from the outside, and there was something smooth and shiny all over it? That's the glazing, that makes it as tight as though it was made of glass. That's a secret they keep to themselves; but I believe they burn lead, and mix other things with it, put it on, and then bake it in. But the potter's ware that is not glazed will hold water well enough: the water won't drop, and it takes a long time to soak out; all the trouble is, whatever you put into it soaks in, and you can't keep it so clean as though it was glazed."
"Then what made ours leak so fast?"
"Were there cracks in it?"
"Yes, sir; lots of 'em."
"Did you put sand in your clay, just as we do when we make mortar?"
"Yes, sir."
"What else did you do to it?"
"Worked it with the hoe, just as we do mortar."
"Was that all?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, the potters don't put any sand in their clay as a general thing, and never but a very little: the sand made it leak. You didn't make earthen: you made brick. And they take great pains to work their clay. I think it is very likely there were sticks and grass-roots in yours, and it was raw, and not worked enough; and that made it crack and blow. If you had worked it as much as your mother does her dough, not put in any sand, and baked it harder, it would have done better."
"Uncle Seth, I love to make things in clay, and I'm going to try to make a bean-pot for my mother. You won't tell anybody, Uncle Seth. Will you?"
"No, indeed, and I'm real glad you are going to try. It's a great deal better to spend your time in trying to make something useful than to be fooling or doing mischief."
"You know everybody likes Harry 'cause he's brave, kills Indians and bears, and can foller a trail. Ain't I brave?"
"Yes, you're brave."
"Folks like Harry 'cause he can do so much work,—make tubs, pails, baskets, and drums. You and Mr. Israel like to have him with you, and let him have your tubs, and mother, she says he's the best boy ever a mother had, may the Lord bless him!
"I want to make things too; 'cause I love to, and 'cause I haven't got Tony to play with me any more, and 'cause I don't want everybody to say I'm a plague above ground, and a real vexation: that's what Mrs. Mugford said."
"That's right, my lad: if you do that you'll be a great benefit, and everybody will love you. How did you make your bowls and platters the other day? What did you have to make 'em by?"
"We made 'em in the ground."
"That's the last way I should have thought of," said Uncle Seth, laughing. "How did you get 'em out?"
"After they dried, we dug the ground away with our scalping-knives, till we could pull 'em out."
"If the ground hadn't been as dry as an ash-heap, they never would have dried in the ground so that you could have taken them out; and, if there had come a shower, they'd been full of water."
"What's a better way to do?"
"Make a wooden mould, and put the clay on it: then the inside will be smooth, and just the shape of the mould, and you can make the outside just as you like; and when you put it in the fire the wood will burn out. Or you can do as the Indians do,—make a basket, and put the clay on the inside of the basket; and the basket will burn off."
Sammy went away, and pondered a long while upon what Mr. Seth had told him; but he thought he could not make a wooden mould very well, nor a basket, and took the funniest method imaginable; but then, you know, he was a Sumerford, and own brother to Harry. He dug his clay, made it as thin as porridge with water, and strained it through a riddling-sieve.
"I guess there ain't any sticks or grass-roots in that," said Sammy.
After the clay had settled to the bottom, he turned off the water, and worked it with a hoe, then dragged the tub into the woods where the boys would not be likely to see it, and left it, as Uncle Seth had said it ought to lie a while.
After the work referred to in the last chapter was done, the boys were given a day to go fishing; but, to their great surprise, Sammy, who was generally the leader in all such enterprises, didn't want to go.
The boys were no sooner out of sight than Sammy ran to the clay-pit, dragged the tub from the bushes, and gave the clay another working. Then, hunting among the corn, he found a hard-shelled pumpkin which suited him in shape. The bottom of it was slightly hollowing; but Sammy cut it perfectly square, and likewise cut a piece from the stem end, in order that both the top and bottom might be square.
Sammy knew his mother would want a big pot; for there were three strapping boys to eat beans, and, if half the children in the Run happened to be at Mrs. Sumerford's near meal-time, she would have them stop to eat: therefore he had selected the largest pumpkin of the right shape that he could find, on which to mould his pot.
Over this pumpkin he plastered the clay, and regulated the thickness by marking the depth on a little pointed stick which he thrust into the clay from time to time. Knowing his mother would be obliged to cover the top of the pot with coals and ashes, it must of course have a cover. He turned his tub bottom up, and, using the bottom for a table, rolled out a strip of clay, and placed it round the edge of the pot on the inside, for the cover to rest on; then, cutting out a piece of birch-bark to fit the top of the pot, moulded his cover by that, punching up the clay in the middle for a handle to take it off by, for he did not know that handles could be made and stuck on to clay vessels when they are half dry.
All this accomplished, Sammy was quite delighted, clapped his hands, and danced round his work, exclaiming,—
"I never did feel so good in all my life. What'll my mother say? I guess Harry'll think something. Oh, if Tony was only here to make one for his mother!"
He was now seized with a strong desire to ornament his work, which was quite rough, and covered with finger-marks. The first thing needed was a smooth surface on which to make figures. He sharpened a stake at both ends, drove one end into the ground, and stuck the pot on the other, running the stake into the pumpkin to hold it.
He then moistened the clay, smoothed it with wet moss and a flat stick, and afterwards with a piece of wet bladder, till it was perfectly smooth and level; and sat down to consider in what way he should ornament the surface. Several methods suggested themselves, none of which were satisfactory. At length an idea entered his mind, that he hastened to carry out in practice.
Rolling out a piece of clay on the bottom of the tub till it was a foot square or more, he took a beech-leaf, and, placing it on the clay, pressed it carefully into the surface; then taking it up by the stem, he found the full impress of it left on the clay. Delighted with this, he gathered the top shoots of cedar, and beech-leaves of various kinds, and ferns, and took impressions from all of them, till he had quite a gallery at his command. The large-ribbed, deeply-indented leaves gave the best impression; while the ferns, though very beautiful, afforded an indistinct outline, and the cedar the most marked, the leaf being thick, and going deeper into the surface.
After long deliberation, he settled down upon the beech, cedar, fern, and locust, choosing the extremities of the smallest branches, which he pressed carefully into the surface of his pot, and left them there to be burned out when the pot was baked.
Sammy now took a thin flat stone, sprinkled it with sand, turned the pot on it, and set it in a hollow tree; intending as soon as the clay had hardened sufficiently, and the pumpkin had become tender by decay, to dig out the meat, leaving the shell to be burned out.
He then flatted out a large piece of clay, and began to search round after other leaves and objects of which to take impressions. So absorbed did he become, that he forgot his dinner, taking no note of passing time, and meditated new devices till he was roused by hearing the voices of the boys coming from fishing; and, instantly putting away his implements, ran home.
He didn't want the boys to know what he was doing, for fear they would tell his mother; and he wanted to surprise her.
Before reaching the house, he met his mother coming after him.
"Why, Sammy Sumerford, where have you been this livelong day?"
"Down to the river."
"Down to the river, indeed! Didn't you hear me blow the horn? I was afraid the Indians had got you. What could you find to do there without any dinner, and all alone?"
"I've had a good time, ma'am."
"Well, if you have, I'm glad of it; but it must have been a very different good time from any you ever had before: for never since you came into the world could you have any sort of a good time without half a dozen boys round you; and, if there were as many girls, so much the better."
The moment he had swallowed his supper, he ran off to report to Mr. Seth; who had a good laugh when Sammy told him he had moulded on a pumpkin, and reckoned he could not dig out till it was thoroughly rotten, without breaking the pot.
He was, however, singularly favored in this respect: not being able to visit the place for two days without the notice of the other boys, when he did go he found the pumpkin entirely covered with ants, who had devoured nearly the whole of it.
"Good on your heads!" said he. "You can dig it easier and better than I can, and won't break the pot neither."
The interior of the old tree was damp; and when the ants had devoured all of the meat, leaving only the shell of the pumpkin, Sam, watching his opportunity, removed the pot to the garret of the house, where it might dry thoroughly.