| vol. iii.—no. 144. | Published by HARPER & BROTHERS. New York. | price four cents. |
| Tuesday, August 1, 1882. | Copyright, 1882, by Harper & Brothers. | $1.50 per Year, in Advance. |
BOB AND THE "GRIZZLEE BARE."
MR. STUBBS'S BROTHER.[1]
BY JAMES OTIS,
Author of "Toby Tyler," "Tim and Tip," etc.
Chapter XVIII.
COLLECTING THE ANIMALS.
It was quite a task to extract the porcupine quills from Mr. Stubbs's brother, because the operation was painful, and he danced about in a way that seriously interfered with the work.
But the last one was out after a time, and the monkey was marched along between Joe and Toby, looking very repentant now that he was in his master's power again.
"I tell you what it is," said Joe, sagely, after he had walked awhile in silence as if studying some matter, "we'd better get about six big chains an' fasten Mr. Stubbs's brother to the tent; 'cause if we keep on tryin' to train him, he'll keep on gettin' loose, an' before he gets through with it, we sha'n't have any show left."
"I think that's the best thing we can do," panted Leander; "'cause if all hands of us has to start out many times like this, some of the boys will come up while we're off, an' pull the tent down."
"We can tie him in the tent, and have him for a wild man of Borneo," suggested Joe.
"I guess we won't train him," replied Toby, rather sorry to deprive his pet of the pleasure of being one of the performers, and yet fearing the trouble he would cause if they should try to make anything more than an ordinary monkey out of him.
The pursuit had led the boys farther from home than they were aware of, and it was noon when, weary and hungry, they arrived at the tent, where they found the other party, who had given up the search some time before. They had travelled through the woods without hearing or seeing anything of the runaway, and had returned in the hope that the others had been more successful.
Leaving Mr. Stubbs's brother in charge of the partners, who, it was safe to say, would now take very good care to prevent his escape, Toby hurried into the house to see Abner.
The sick boy was no better, Aunt Olive said, neither did he appear to be any worse—he was sleeping then; and, after eating some of his dinner at the table, and taking the remainder in his hands, Toby went out to the tent again.
He found his partners indulging in an animated discussion as to when the performance should be given.
Reddy was in favor of having it within two or three days at furthest; Bob thought that, as Mr. Stubbs's brother was not to be one of the performers, there was no reason for delay.
All the others were of the same opinion, but Toby urged them to wait until Abner could take part in it.
To this Bob had a very reasonable objection: in two weeks more school would begin, and then, of course, the circus would be out of the question. If their first exhibition should be a success, as it undoubtedly would be, they could give a second performance when Abner should get well enough to attend it; and that would be quite as pleasing to him as for all the talent to remain idle while waiting for his recovery.
Toby felt that his partners asked him to do only that which was fair. The circus scheme had already done Abner more harm than good, and, as he did not seem to be dangerously sick, it would be unkind to the others to insist on waiting.
"I'd rather Abner was with us when we had the first show," said Toby; "but I s'pose it'll be just as well to go ahead with it, an' then give another after he can come out."
"Then we'll have it Saturday afternoon; an' while Reddy's fixin' up the tickets, Ben an' I'll get the animals up here, so's to see how they'll look, an' to let 'em get kinder used to the tent."
Reddy was a boy who did not believe in wasting any time after a matter was decided upon, and almost as soon as Toby consented to go on with the show, he went for materials with which to make posters and tickets.
His activity aroused the others, and all started out to bring in the animals, leaving Toby to guard Mr. Stubbs's brother and the tent. The canvas would take care of itself, so long as it was unmolested, but the other portion of Toby's charge was not so easily managed. After much thought, however, he settled the monkey question by tying Mr. Stubbs's brother to the end pole, with a rope long enough to allow him to climb nearly to the top, but short enough to keep him at a safe distance from the canvas.
By the time this was done, Ben arrived with the first installment of curiosities. His crowing hen he had under his arm, and Mrs. Simpson's three-legged cat and four kittens he brought in a basket.
"Joe's got a cage 'most built for the hen, an' I'll fix one for the cat this afternoon," he said, as he seated himself on the basket, and held the hen in his lap.
"You can't fix it if you've got to hold her," said Toby, as he brought from the barn a bushel basket, which was converted into a coop by turning it bottom side up, and putting the hen underneath it.
Ben was about to search the barn for the purpose of finding some materials with which to build the cat's cage, when a great noise was heard outside, and the two partners left the tent hurriedly.
"It's Bob an' his calf," said Ben, who had got out first, and then he started toward the new-comers at full speed.
It was Bob and his calf; but the animal should have been mentioned first; for it seemed very much as if he were bringing his master, instead of being brought by him. In order to carry his cage of mice and lead the calf at the same time, Bob had tied the rope that held this representative of a grizzly bear around his waist, and had taken the cage under his arm. This plan had worked well enough until just as they were entering the field that led to the tent, when Bob tripped and fell, scaring the calf so that he started at full speed for the barn, of course dragging the unfortunate Bob with him.
Sometimes on his face, sometimes on his back, screaming for help whenever his mouth was uppermost, and clinging firmly to the cage of mice, Bob was dragged almost to the door of the tent, where the frightened animal was finally secured.
"Well, I've got him here, an' I hain't lost a single mouse," said Bob, as he counted his treasures before even scraping the dirt from his face.
Ben and Toby led the calf into the tent after some difficulty, owing to the attempts of Mr. Stubbs's brother to frighten him, and then they did their best to separate the dirt from their partner.
In this good work they had but partially succeeded, when Reddy arrived with a large package of brown paper, and his cat without a tail. This startling curiosity he carried in a bag slung over his shoulder, and from the expression on his face when he came up it seemed almost certain that the cat's claws had passed through the bag and into her master's flesh.
"There," he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, as he threw his live burden at the foot of the post to which Mr. Stubbs's brother was tied. "I've kept shiftin' that cat from one shoulder to the other ever since I started, an' I tell you she can scratch as well as if she had a tail as long as the monkey's."
It surely seemed as if the work of building the cages had been too long neglected, for here were a number of curiosities without anything in which they could be exhibited, and the audience might be dissatisfied if asked to pay to see a cat in a bag, or a hen under a bushel basket.
Toby spoke of this, and Bob assured him that it could easily be arranged as soon as all the partners should arrive.
"You see, we've got to carry Mrs. Simpson's cat an' kittens home every night, 'cause she says the rats are so thick she can spare her only daytimes, an' we don't need a cage for her till the show comes off," said Bob, as he bustled around again to find materials.
Mr. Stubbs's brother demanded his master's attention about this time, owing to his attempts to make friends with the calf. From the time that this peaceful animal, who was to be transformed into a grizzly bear, had been brought into the tent, the monkey had tried in every possible way to get at him, and the calf had shown unmistakable signs of a desire to butt the monkey. But the ropes which held them both had prevented the meeting. Now, however, Bob detected Mr. Stubbs's brother in trying to bite his rope in two, and it was considered necessary to set a guard over him.
Reddy was already busily engaged in painting the posters, despite the confusion that reigned, and as his work would keep him inside the tent, he was chosen to have general care of the animals—a task which he, without a thought of possible consequences, accepted cheerfully.
Leander and Joe came together, the first bringing his accordion, and four rabbits in a cage, and the last carrying five striped squirrels in a pasteboard box.
Leander was the only one who had been thoughtful enough to have his animals ready for exhibition, and the cage in which the long-eared pets were confined bore the inscription, done in a very fanciful way with blue and red crayons: "Wolves. Keep off!"
This cage was placed in the corner near the band stand, where the musician could attend to his musical work and have a watchful eye on his pets at the same time.
Reddy had been busily engaged in painting a notice to be hung up over the calf; and as he fastened it to the barn just over the spot where the animal was to be kept, Bob read, with no small degree of pride in the thought that he was the fortunate possessor of such a prize:
Then the artist went back to his task of painting posters, while the others set to work, full of determination to build the necessary number of cages, if there was wood enough in Uncle Daniel's barn.
They found timber enough and to spare; but as it was not exactly the kind they wanted, Toby proposed that they should all go over to the house, explain the matter to Aunt Olive, and ask her to give them as many empty boxes as she could afford to part with.
As has been said before, Aunt Olive looked upon the circus scheme with favor, and when she was called upon to aid in the way of furnishing cages for wild animals, she gave the boys full permission to take all the boxes they could find in the shed. They found so many that they were able to select those best suited to the different animals, and yet have quite a stock to fall back upon in case they should make additions to their menagerie.
[to be continued.]
[ADVICE TO BOYS.]
BY H. C. VAN GIESEN, M.D.
HOW TO RESTORE PERSONS APPARENTLY DROWNED.
Every boy should know how to swim, and it should be a part of every boy's early education. But even good swimmers are exposed to the danger of drowning; and to show what to do for an apparently drowned person is the object of this article. When life is supposed to be extinct, proper exertions will often restore the circulation, and establish breathing. It is estimated that a minute and a half's submersion is sufficient to cause death by drowning, and hence the necessity of rescuing a person from the water as quickly as possible, and using restorative measures promptly, is very great.
As soon as the body is taken from the water, the feet and lower part of the body should be elevated, and the head allowed to hang down, that the water may be allowed to run out of the throat and mouth as much as possible; then the clothing should be removed from the upper part of the body, exposing the chest. The person should then be placed upon his back, with a roll of clothing or something else convenient to form a pillow, upon which the shoulders should rest. Then some one present should take hold of the arms just below the elbow, and slowly raise them above the head, so that the elbows may nearly touch on a line parallel with the body; then as slowly bring down the arms to the side of the chest, pressing the elbows firmly against the ribs. This movement must be repeated many times, alternately extending the arms, and replacing them by the side. The object is to cause expansion and contraction of the chest walls, and thus mechanically causing the entrance of air into and exit from the lungs.
It is advisable, also, to see that the tongue has not fallen back into the mouth, and in case it has done so, to seize it with the thumb and finger, and draw it forward. Dashing cold water in the face may also be tried. The feet and legs should be rubbed dry, and kept warm by wrapping in dry clothing or blankets if they can be obtained.
When the least sign of breathing is seen, the exertion should be actively continued, and pressure made upon the chest wall at short intervals to aid the expulsion of the air in the lungs, and allow fresh air to enter. If ammonia is available, it should be poured on a handkerchief, and held at a little distance from the nose at occasional intervals; and when the breathing is established, if brandy or some other stimulant, as whiskey or alcohol even, can be procured, a small quantity, say half a tea-spoonful in a tea-spoonful or two of water, should be cautiously given, and repeated in fifteen minutes.
After animation is restored, the person should be wrapped up warmly in blankets, and seclusion should be observed.
Efforts such as these are often rewarded with success, and no one recently taken from the water should ever be given up as drowned until they are faithfully tried. It is never safe for a boy to go in swimming alone, for unforeseen accidents may occur, such as cramps, or entanglement in weeds. Some other hidden danger may spring up, as unexpected force of current, or great depth of water, and then it is safer by far to have help within calling distance.
In cities, swimming-schools supply the place which nature affords to the boy in the country. The feeling of security which a knowledge of the art of swimming secures to its possessor compensates for all the danger and trouble one is exposed to in acquiring it.