THE APPRENTICESHIP OF ARTHUR.
BY FRANCIS STERNE PALMER.
One evening early in April two boys of about fifteen were talking together at the home of one of them in New York city. They were close friends as well as classmates in one of the largest schools for boys in the city. In a few days this school closed for the spring vacation.
George Corey, who was a stalwart, athletic fellow, was speaking. "How about the vacation, Arthur? Have you made any plans for spending it?"
"There are several works on chemistry that I want to read, and I think I'll give the two weeks up to them," said the other, somewhat wearily. He had a pale, intellectual face, and his languid movements were in strong contrast to his friend's healthy alertness.
George laid his hand on his friend's shoulder. "See here, Arthur, you'll kill yourself studying. I know it's fine in you to be ambitious and to work so, and some day you're going to be a great scientist and make us all proud of you. But you mustn't neglect your body altogether—'a healthy brain in a healthy body,' as some old philosopher says."
"But there are so many things one ought to learn," protested the other.
"Yes, and there are some things that can't be learned from books. Now I've a plan to propose to you. You know my uncle has a cottage at Chateaugay Lake in the Adirondacks; I've visited him several times in the autumn, and had a fine time. At this season, of course, there is no shooting; but there's the fishing, and, I dare say, plenty of other things to do. My uncle's there now for the salmon-trout fishing, and he writes to know if I want to spend my vacation with him; and what's more, he says I may ask a boy to go with me. Arthur, I want you to go."
At first Arthur could not reconcile himself to this disarrangement of his plans; but by the next afternoon, having consulted his family in the mean while, he was ready to go. Such an opportunity was not to be lost; moreover, he hoped to be so strong after his return that it would be easy to work harder and make up for lost time.
On a fine spring morning, two days later, the boys left the little narrow-gauge railroad at Lion Mountain, and were driven to the shore of Chateaugay Lake; there they were met by a boat of Mr. Corey's, and rowed to his cottage.
That afternoon and the next day they spent trolling for salmon-trout. Arthur enjoyed it; sitting quietly in the stern of a boat and being slowly rowed over the lake required no unpleasant exertion of the body. The fish did not "strike" often, and much of the time he could sit with closed eyes and dream. But George chafed under this inaction, and finally he took an old guide, Antoine Brusoe, into his confidence. "I want to have some camping out and tramping in the woods; and that's what my friend needs too."
"Ask your uncle to let me take you to Tamarack Lake. It's much wilder than this, an' there's good fishin'. If you want to tramp, you can go gummin'; that's about all that's goin' on at this season. An' if you don't want to keep the gum, you can give it to me; spruce gum's worth fifty cents a pound in Chateaugay village."
Tamarack Lake, or Pond, was little known and seldom visited; a dense growth of tamarack-trees on its shores gave it a gloomy, wild appearance. The friends and their guide reached it early in the afternoon, and Antoine at once set to work to repair a little bark "lean to" which he had built on a former visit.
That evening by the light of their fire Antoine made a "gumming-pole" for each; this, as Antoine made it, was a stout pole about eight feet long, to the end of which was firmly fastened a small coverless tin can. It was a simple instrument; but Antoine assured the boys that this was the best kind—much better than "the new-fangled poles you buy at the store."
He added, to encourage them, "Spring is when the gum breaks off easiest, an' we ought to get a big lot of it."
During the forenoon the boys staid near the camp, amusing themselves by fishing and by gathering gum from the spruce-trees growing near by.
A large brook ran into the lake, and in the afternoon they decided to follow this brook back into the woods. As long as they kept the stream in sight there was no danger of getting lost. They started off, each carrying a pole and having a gummer's bag slung from his shoulder. For an hour or more they pushed on together, gathering gum as they went. Finally they came to a place where the brook forked, and here they decided to separate, each taking a branch of the stream.
"We can't get lost as long as we keep by the brook, but don't go too far, for night comes on quickly in the woods," said George, as they parted.
Arthur went on alone very contentedly; he was beginning to enjoy the woods and appreciate them. As he followed up the brook he found himself in a rocky ravine, a wild place where the stream tumbled over great bowlders or—being swollen by the melting snows—-spread into a pool. On the bank of one of these pools, which must have been eight or nine yards across and four or five feet deep, grew a tall hemlock. In the air near its upper branches two hawks were circling. At short intervals they screamed as if in anger and distress.
Arthur looked more carefully, and could now see their nest. His pleasure in the woods had put him in an unusually adventurous mood, and he decided, on the impulse of the moment, to try to secure some of the hawk's eggs; they would be interesting mementoes of his trip to the lake.
At first sight the tree seemed a difficult one to climb, for there were no branches within twenty feet of the ground, and the trunk was too large for him to clasp. But close to it grew a slender spruce, and Arthur, leaving his pole and sack on the ground, had no trouble in "shinning" up the smaller tree; it was then easy to transfer himself to the hemlock's lowest branches. Some distance below the hawk's nest a large branch stretched out from the trunk, and now, when Arthur looked up at this branch, he saw what he had before failed to notice; along it lay a plump little animal, gray in color, and about as big as a house cat two-thirds grown. It looked at him stupidly, and did not move.
He thought it might be a young raccoon, or perhaps an opossum—his knowledge of Adirondack animals was not very accurate—and as it seemed so dull and meek he thought he would try to capture it. Near him a partly dead limb stood out from the trunk; this, after some trouble, he was able to break off, and then had a stout club in case any weapon was needed. In the mean while the little animal watched him over the edge of the big branch, but did not move. Arthur was now about twenty feet from the ground, the animal being six or eight feet above him. Of a sudden it seemed to grow interested in what was going on below, and putting its head over the side of the branch, gave a low whine. Instantly there was an answering whine from the ground.
A grayish catlike animal about as large as a spaniel-dog was crouching at the foot of the hemlock; as it looked up Arthur could see its yellow eyes shine angrily. Its shape and size made him think it was a lynx; and the conviction flashed upon him that the little animal on the branch above was the kitten of the savage-looking creature on the ground below. He was separating mother from child, and it was evident from her grim expression that the old lynx meant to call him to account for interfering with her domestic affairs.
With a reassuring cry to her kitten, the lynx sprang from the ground and began slowly to climb up the trunk of the hemlock.
Below the branches on which Arthur was sitting was the section of the trunk, twenty feet in length, that rose from the ground free of any branch, so that there was no vantage-ground from which the lynx could spring upon him as she came crawling up. He drew up his legs, clutched the club firmly, and got ready to do his best to beat her back; at the same time he shouted as loudly as he could, hoping that George would hear him.
His shouts and pounding on the tree made the animal hesitate, and when she was eight or ten feet below him she flattened herself against the bark and clung there, glaring up at him. What seemed a long time to Arthur, but was probably not more than ten minutes, passed, and yet she did not move. He kept up an almost continual shouting, for he hoped, as the two branches of the brook joined each other at an acute angle, that George was not far distant. The strain on his nerves was making him faint. As the lynx eyed him, he recalled stories of cats that had alarmed and captured their victims merely by looking at them; he trembled violently, and his shouts became weaker and weaker.
It was a relief when, in answer to an especially plaintive cry from her kitten, the lynx gave a low whine and began to creep upward, growling defiance as she came. The spell was broken, and Arthur felt his strength return. He raised his club and leaned forward; as the animal's round head came within reach he struck it a heavy blow. With a scream of pain the lynx shrunk back, and began watching him as before; every minute or two she snarled and growled—evidently the blow she had received had not improved her temper.
Arthur had just begun, with renewed vigor, to shout again, when there was an answering shout, and George appeared, running towards him through the woods. For a moment his joy in seeing a friend and possible rescuer made the frightened boy forget everything else.
"Arthur! Arthur! Where are you, and what's the matter?" cried George.
"Here I am, up in this tree! And, oh, George, look out! there's a lynx on the trunk just below me!"
The warning came late. George was already on the bank of the pool, and only a few yards from the hemlock. The lynx saw him, and finding another enemy in her rear, she turned as if to attack him.
George had only the briefest instant in which to grasp the situation and act. He turned and sprang into the pool, and plunged to its centre; there he could barely touch bottom.
The animal did not follow; like all the cat tribe, a lynx dislikes and fears the water, and this one was daunted at the prospect of a fight in the hated element. She circled about the pool, looking for some way of reaching him without getting a wetting. Baffled on every side, she then crouched at the water's edge and screamed with rage. A whine from the hemlock made her remember the kitten. She turned and dashed up the tree; there was now no hesitation; she was enraged, and meant to revenge herself.
Her onslaught was so sudden that Arthur had no time for any preparation. In his panic and hasty excited effort to settle himself so that he could strike to advantage, the club slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground. He cried out, and George saw what had happened. When the lynx reached him, Arthur used his feet so vigorously against her head that for a moment or two she was checked. He was screaming in a frenzy of terror.
"Help me, George!" he cried. "Help! help! help!"
It seemed almost like inviting certain death to attack the enraged animal when armed with no better weapon than his gumming-pole; but George could not resist his friend's agonized appeal for help. He rushed ashore and to the foot of the hemlock. From there he could just reach the animal's flank—she having recoiled a little before Arthur's desperate kicking—and he began to belabor it with the can on the end of his pole. The lynx partially turned, seeming to hesitate whether to charge the enemy above or to fling herself upon this new assailant.
While this noise and commotion was going on, the kitten had got more and more frightened. Trying to seek safety in flight, it had crawled along the big branch until it reached almost the extreme end; the branch snapped under its weight, and with a long cry it fell through the air. Fortunately for it, it had crawled so far along the branch that when it fell, instead of striking the earth, it came down in the midst of the pool.
It fell just as its mother was hesitating which one of the boys to attack. She saw it strike the water, and forgetting all else in this new peril to her offspring, she leaped over George's head and plunged into the water to its rescue—showing that even in a lynx the mother's love or instinct is stronger than rage or the passion for revenge.
Holding the kitten in her teeth, she got out of the water as soon as possible. On the bank she paused for a moment, as if in doubt whether to attack George or not. But again maternal feeling asserted itself. The kitten was safe now, and she could not afford to further endanger its precious life; holding it, drenched and whimpering, in her mouth, she trotted off into the woods and disappeared.
It was dusk when the boys got back to Tamarack Lake, for Arthur found himself badly exhausted after this experience, and they had walked slowly. The legs of his boots were torn, and in several places claws had left their marks on his ankles.
"I'll bet 'twas the same lynx that we saw here last year!" exclaimed Antoine, when they told their story, sitting by the camp-fire that evening, "An old Canada lynx with a kitten is about the savagest creature in these woods—nearly as bad as a panther. I tell you, you boys were lucky to get off as you did, with only a scare an' a few little scratches! But don't get scared, thinkin' this is goin' to happen every day; you're not likely to see a lynx again in a year—no, nor in five years."
"Well, I suppose you've had enough of the woods," said George, as he and Arthur rolled themselves in their blankets and prepared to go to sleep. "We've had a rather tough experience, and perhaps we'd better start back for Chateaugay to-morrow."
"No; I don't think I've had enough of the woods, and I'm in no hurry to leave. If I'd had a little more of them in my life, I wouldn't have gone to pieces as I did to-day, dropping my club and screaming like a baby! And, George, I won't forget in a hurry how you, with only a gumming-pole to fight with, came to the rescue and pitched into that angry lynx."
[AN HOUR IN BICYCLELAND.]
WITH AN ACCOUNT OF A PNEUMATIC CIRCUS.
BY HAYDEN CARRUTH.
II.
It was not hard to push through the crowd, because the people, when off their bicycles, didn't stand very steadily, as Kenneth soon discovered after toppling several of them over in brushing against them. All the way through the crowd they kept hearing the man talking about the wonderful horse, and warning people to keep back from the ropes, and hold on their hats when the animal snorted. Just as they got to the front of the crowd a man came round from behind with a measure of oats on the end of a long pole, and pushed it cautiously through between the bars.
Kenneth looked at the marvellous horse about which everybody was excited. He saw a round and comfortable-appearing gray pony, which looked as if it had always been employed in jogging about hitched to a basket-phaeton, carrying some mild old gentlewoman, in a white cap, and her grandchildren.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," shouted the man standing on a box beside the cage, "watch the Titantic Terror of the Jungles lash his sides with his Audacious and Caudalogical Tail as he devours his food with Ravenous and Oats-destroying Teeth! See him stamp his Adamantine Hoofs as in his Savage Imagination he tramples upon the Prostrate Form of that Victim of a thousand battles, the Hardy Hunter! See him wave his crafty, whisper-detecting Ears as he buries his Horriferous Snout in the Iron-bound Oats and grinds them to Powder with his Dreadful and Molariferous Fangs from which fly the Lurid Sparks in all directions!"
"Well," said Kenneth, "I'm sure I don't think it's quite so bad as that man seems to think."
"Hush!" answered his companion; "the horse might hear you. I'm pretty sure I saw one spark. And of course you don't expect things in a circus to be just as they say they are."
"I suppose not," admitted Kenneth; "but it does seem to me they might have got a horse a little bigger."
"Bigger?" replied the other. "Why, he's twice as high as a bicycle!"
"Oh yes, I suppose he'll do pretty well. But I don't believe he's stamping his feet because he wishes he had the hardy hunter under them. I think he's doing it to scare away the flies."
"Flies!"' exclaimed the young man, scornfully. "Do you think as large an animal as that would be afraid of anything as small as a fly?"
"Well, it doesn't seem so," said Kenneth.
"Though, to be sure," went on the other, thoughtfully, "a tack is small, but how a bicycle will shy around one when it sees it! But we mustn't stand here any longer. I want to get into the other tent, and see Señor Chinchilla, the celebrated bare back-rider."
"Then they have more horses, do they?" asked Kenneth.
"It's so hard for you to learn," answered his companion. "Of course not! The Señor rides a bicycle."
By this time they were in their seats and looking down at the big ring, which was much larger than the ordinary circus ring. There were pneumatic cushions to sit on and to lean against. There was a brass band at one side of the tent which seemed louder than any brass band which Kenneth had ever heard before. He noticed that the musicians did not put the horns and other brass instruments to their lips, but that they held big rubber bags in their laps, to which they were attached. He asked his companion about it.
"Pneumatic bags. Full of compressed air. Blows the horns. Saves wear on lips," he answered, shortly. He was becoming much excited about the coming performance.
Soon the band began to play louder than ever, the curtains at one side of the tent parted, and the grand parade slowly filed in. The audience broke into such a hand-clapping that Kenneth was obliged to hold his own hands over his ears. It was like a dozen Fourth of July's. He looked around to find the cause, and saw that everybody was wearing gloves with big fat puffy palms, which they were clapping together as hard as they possibly could.
"What are they?" he asked of the young man, who also had on the funny gloves, and was clapping away harder than anybody else.
"Pneumatic! pneumatic!" he shouted, and kept on clapping.
In the ring the performers were all mounted on bicycles, which were slowly bearing them around, two abreast. The wheels were painted all colors, and the riders wore fancy and bright costumes. The band had also mounted bicycles, and went round with the rest, playing as hard as ever. The young man pointed out Señor Chinchilla and all of the noted performers, and Kenneth could hear him above the uproar quoting more from the bills. At the end of the procession was the clown, almost as round as a ball, riding a wheelbarrow instead of a bicycle, but which seemed to be trained to go nearly as well as the bicycles. Kenneth had seen clowns wearing clothes all padded out before, but never one so round and ball-like as this one; but his companion was laughing so at the clown that it was a long time before he could explain, and then all that Kenneth could catch was "pneumatic suit."
"Can't he walk?" asked Kenneth.
"Oh no," chuckled the young man. "He's too round. He just rolls everywhere he wants to go. Did you ever see anything so funny?"
"Well, I don't know," answered Kenneth; "I guess the horse was 'most as funny."
The young man looked hurt. "Well, I guess," he said, "that if that horse took you in his jaws once and bounded away into the Trackless Jungle, where the Baffled and Vociferous Cries of the—that is, I mean you wouldn't think him so funny."
"What are they going to do next?" asked Kenneth.
"Ground and lofty tumbling," said his companion. "See the big pneumatic mattress."
Half a dozen men came in and began turning all sorts of handsprings and summersaults on this, always bounding up very high. The clown kept getting in the way and rolling about, and sometimes the performers would bound on him. Suddenly two of the men seized him and threw him on the cushion, and he bounded up so high that he struck the top of the tent, and everybody roared again.
"Suppose he should come down on a tack?" suggested Kenneth.
"My, I wish he would!" laughed the other. "Wouldn't it be fun? He'd look just like a burst balloon."
There was a great deal more performing of various kinds, with the clown rolling about in the way all the time. Once when two strong men were tossing cannon-balls and lifting heavy weights, the clown bothered so much that they took him and played football with him, kicking him back and forth across the ring and having fine sport. There was also a grand race of the trained pneumatic kangaroos. They played leap-frog and did some high jumping, and were almost as funny as the clown. Suddenly Kenneth's companion exclaimed:
"Señor Chinchilla comes next. Now look out!"
The Señor came rolling in, sitting gracefully on his bicycle, Sir Sky-Rocket, all dressed in red and green. He dismounted, made a fine bow, and stood fanning himself while the ring-master made a little speech full of words which caused Kenneth's companion to open his eyes and mouth in astonishment. Another man took the saddle and handle-bar off the bicycle, and then the Señor bounded lightly on to the top of the frame, where he stood easily as the ring-master cracked his whip and the bicycle shot away around the ring. The clown was so impressed that he rolled away and disappeared. The band played, and the young man became so excited that Kenneth was sure he would tumble out of his seat, and so took hold of his arm.
"The Ten-Thousand-Dollar Challenge Bareback Bicycle-Rider of the World!" he exclaimed. "Without the aid of Saddle, Padding or Trappings, he boldly performs feats upon the Rearing and Plunging Wheel which Startle while they Enchant, and cause the Chilled Blood to stand still within the Frightened Vein, while they hold the Enraptured Gaze with the Marvellous Efflorescence of their Rich Ambiguity. That's what the man said, and I believe he's going to do it!"
"He does ride well," said Kenneth, watching the performance with great interest. Round and round went the Señor, leaping over banners and through hoops, but always alighting on his bicycle without mishap. He also turned summersaults, stood on his head, danced, and otherwise showed his skill. Then the band played faster, and the ring-master cracked his whip louder, and the bicycle also danced and cavorted first on one wheel, then on the other; and then it leaped over hurdles and finally through a big hoop, with the Señor still on its back. Then it went around the ring a dozen times, so fast that it could hardly be seen, with the Señor doing everything at once so fast that he could hardly be seen. Then they shot away behind the curtains, and everybody cheered harder than ever before, and the young man actually did fall out of his seat at last, and Kenneth had to drag him back, though it was scarcely necessary, as the performance was over, and they went out with the crowd.
Outside they found their wheels, and got on them and rode away along the road they had come, with the young man trying to do half the things he had seen the Señor do, and talking about the wonderful horse. Everybody was excited, and Kenneth's bicycle seemed to catch the excitement and began to run away. He did his best to hold it, but it kept going faster and faster. The young man tried to keep up, but he couldn't. The last thing Kenneth heard was his voice shouting something from the bills; then all he could feel was the rush of the wind as he shot along the road like an arrow from a bow. But suddenly he stopped with a great bump, and the next thing he knew he found himself lying on the grass under a tree.
"Well did you have a good ride on your new bicycle?" asked Kenneth's father. (They were at supper.)
"Oh yes!" answered Kenneth.
"Did you see anything new?" went on his father.
"Well, I don't know, or—no, I guess not much. I was reading circus posters on a big fence while I was going out, and I got pretty tired, and lay down under a tree to rest, and I think perhaps I may have fallen asleep a few minutes, and—and—had a little nap."
"I'm glad you didn't catch cold," said his mother. "You oughtn't to sleep on the ground."