At last he hit on a plan that pleased him greatly.
Suppose that, in order to lend variety, animation, and dignity to these pages, we forbear giving the details of his plot, and keep the reader in a state of mild suspense and wonder? Such a course would smooth our task, and not seriously disturb the readers peace of mind.
Although a raft has not been referred to specially as one of the attractions of the river, yet, for all that, an ill-made and disproportioned, but substantial and floatable one was moored a mile above the falls. Many hours had been spent by the boys in building and repairing this raft, and many times they had sailed proudly up and down the river on it. It was a source of great amusement to them all.
Some ten days after the adventure last narrated, Bob Herriman built a little “house,” which, seen from one end looked like a hen-coop, from the other like a dog kennel, while a stupid person behind might take it for a clumsy woodbox, another equally stupid person in front might take it for a modern home-made bee-hive. One end was three feet wide, the other three feet six inches. By laying a brick underneath it, its roof was level, with the spirit-level. By placing it on a perfectly smooth floor, without the brick underneath it, it rocked gently—just sufficiently, in fact, to lull a person to sleep. Briefly, Robert was not intended for a carpenter, and this “house”—which was almost worth its weight in nails—to be still further disproportioned, was much wider than it was long. Its width has already been given; its length was two feet and two, three, four and five inches. Its height was in exact proportion to its width and length. The door of a disused cupboard was brought into use, and once more did duty as a door.
Boys, exercise your ingenuity, and draw a correct picture of that “house.” It may help you to understand Bob’s plot.
Into this building its architect put several things which he thought would be needed to carry out his schemes successfully.
Every Saturday afternoon Stephen and his dog went swimming in the river. The other boys generally, but not always, swam with him. This was well-known to Herriman, and he took his measures accordingly.
The next Saturday Bob set out immediately after dinner, getting a boon companion of his to take his contrivance in a light waggon to the falls. This boy, whose thoughts never soared above the driving of his nag, asked no questions, and scarcely noticed the “house” or its contents. At the falls Bob set it down carefully, and then the two went their several ways—the youth with the waggon turning back and going to market, the plotter getting his building laboriously up the hill by the falls. The few people near stared at him in wonder, but said nothing.
When this wicked boy got his contrivance a few rods above the falls he stopped, took out of it and stowed away upon his person whatever water might damage, and then took an enormously long and very strong cord, which had hitherto been inside, and tied one end fast to a staple in what was supposed to be the roof of the “house.”
Having done this, he shoved the unwieldy thing into the river, and eyed it wistfully.