FRANK’S STORY.
“I hardly know what to tell,” he said, taking aim at Ben’s foot with the peach stone he had been sucking. “Ned has fairly taken the wind out of my sails. Let me see; I believe I’ll tell you what happened to me once when I was very small. I was out one day in the mountains bird-nesting—a wicked employment, by the way, which perhaps accounts for my mishap—and found a very large hawk’s nest. It was in the very top of a ragged old pine, that grew upon the edge of the most frightful precipice in the country. It was a sheer descent of five or six hundred feet, looking almost perpendicular, though in some places it bulged out with rugged rocks, and in others retreated into caves. All down the face of the cliff were little scrubby bushes, which grew straight out for an inch or two, then suddenly turned up in their course, as if determined to see beyond the great rocky wall that towered so far above them. The old pine had endured the agony of fear for centuries, for though its gnarled trunk leaned far over the abyss, the limbs had all turned toward the firm earth, and stretched their hard, knotty hands appealingly to the surrounding forest. Rain after rain had washed away the soil and left the roots exposed, till half the foundation stood over the precipice and added its weight to the leaning trunk. It was not without much hesitation and debate with myself that I prepared to ascend. I reasoned, however, that if it had stood that long through wind and storm it would not take such a still, calm day to fall; and then, even if its foundation was precarious, my weight would be so infinitely small, compared with its own, that it would never make a perceptible addition. The temptation, too, was a great one, for I had seen the hawk, one of the largest kind, fly away as I approached, and then the climbing was very easy, for a ladder-like vine wound its leafy folds clear up to the top, like a great green serpent seeking the eggs. I took off my jacket and commenced to ascend. With well rubbed pants and an irritating quantity of pine bark next to my skin I reached the first limb, where I rested; then went on to the top, like going up stairs. At last I reached the nest, and there—rich reward for my trouble—lay four brown splotched eggs. Before I proceeded to take them out and tie them in my handkerchief I took a glance at my position. One look satisfied me, and made me faint and dizzy. From my standpoint the tree seemed to stretch out horizontally over the chasm which yawned hungrily below, and, looking at it as I did, through the branches of the tree, it seemed far deeper and more awful than it really was. Far down at the bottom, where the trees and shrubs shrank to the level of a green plush-looking surface, two or three cows were grazing, and they appeared just the size of the toy cows in my Noah’s ark. As I had to descend to the level of the valley on my way home, I could not resist the boyish temptation to throw my hat out into the air and let it float down; I accordingly balanced it nicely and let it go. It sank steadily for a little while, then began to rock from side to side, and finally relapsed into the regular spiral descent, twisting down and down till my eyes could not follow the tiny speck. While gazing down to discover it, if possible, I was startled by a sharp crack near the foot of the tree; another and another followed, and I looked in terror at the roots, to find that the ground was rising slowly upward in a slanting direction from me. The tree was giving way, and gradually sinking more and more swiftly over that hell of destruction. I heard the tearing up of the roots and the sh—sh of the foliage through the air, and I knew no more.
“When I awoke I was swinging delightfully, as if in a hammock. Thick leaves were all around me, and when I parted them and looked out my position was plain. I had caught in the net work of vines in the top of the tree, and was now hanging by one strand of rope-like vine to the tree, which was dangling, top downwards, about fifty feet above me. I found, to my great comfort, that I was in a comparatively safe bed, well padded with abundant leaves, and held by strong cords which branched from the vine rope. This was so twined about the trunk of the inverted tree that it could not become detached; so that my only real danger was that the immense tree itself, hanging above me by a few roots that had not given way, might at any moment break from its slight support and plunge, with me beneath it, into the vast depths below. The very hopelessness of my position made me perfectly reckless and indifferent; and finding that the motion of my descent had given me a considerable swing, I endeavored to augment it by the constant change of my position, leaning first on one side, then on the other. I succeeded so well that I was soon sweeping through an arc of an hundred feet, with a rush through the air at every swoop that made my cheeks tingle. With every swing I increased my speed, and there is no telling to what extent I might have carried the wild excitement of the moment, had I not been checked by coming in violent contact with the face of the precipice. The blow almost stunned me, but it fortunately stopped my swing, and, with a gradually decreasing oscillation, I lay still in my nest of leaves. When I awoke ‘twas late in the afternoon, and I found that I was extremely hungry. I ate two of the hawk eggs and felt relieved. I put the other two away, resolved not to touch them till I was absolutely compelled.
Having nothing better to do, I amused myself by swinging again, though I took good care not to swing far enough to strike the side of the cliff. The sun at last went down, and darkness crept over the dismal woods. Far up above, the stars began to twinkle brightly in the sky, and far down below, the dark void grew intensely black. With a trembling dread of the dark grim night, and yet with a strange sense of security—a feeling of safety from all other dangers—I tried to go to sleep. With a faithful remembrance of the old lady’s instructions I said my prayers as well as the distraught condition of my mind would allow.
All through the long dreary night I was dozing off, only to dream that I was falling from my nest, and to awake with a cold shudder of horror.
After dreary hours of these terrors I hailed with delight the faint beams of approaching day. Brighter and brighter grew the sky, till, with a sudden flood of gold, the sun rose upon the world. What a bright, warm feeling of hope morning brings to the weary watcher! I knew that friends would soon be on the search, and I lay in constant expectation of their shouts. Nor had I long to wait; for soon the woods were ringing with their loud halloos, as they called and listened for my voice. At length I saw a party far below pick up my hat, and from their anxious grouping around it, and busy search among the rocks immediately afterwards, I knew they thought I had fallen over the precipice and was lying, a mangled corpse, somewhere near. I called and called in vain; they moved slowly hither and thither, and finally passed out of sight, carrying my hat with them.
My heart sank within me, and, burying my face in the leaves of my pillow, I sobbed and moaned most piteously. Suddenly, in the very acme of my anguish, I heard my name called aloud, and, looking up through my tears, saw half a score of friendly, anxious faces looking down from the edge of the cliff. Half ashamed of my weakness, yet still crying for joy, I shouted, and begged them for Heaven’s sake to help me out of my terrible predicament. They had no ropes with them, and it was a long way to town where they could be procured, so I could see there was an animated discussion among them in reference to the best ways and means to relief. I heard one say, in an angry tone, ‘I tell you it’s a sho’ thing. The wind hain’t never turned it, and I’ll bet my own life agin your pus, and that’s empty, that it’ll hold him for ever. Look at them ribs, man! Sheer! let her drap. I’ll be ‘sponsible for his life.’
The next instant an enormous blue cotton umbrella dropped down beside me, and a rough voice shouted, ‘Put your foot in the crook of the handle; hold her up stiff; she’ll let you down square.’
Whether the femininity of the umbrella inspired confidence, or the desperate state of my feelings urged me on, I cannot say, but getting on the edge of my nest, putting my foot in the strong oak curved handle for a stirrup, and grasping the staff firmly, I slipped from the vines, and floated slowly down, the old umbrella popping and straining as if it was going to fly to pieces. But with the exception of rubbing the edges on the rocks, and straightening out the ribs by the pressure of the atmosphere, I landed safely at the foot of the precipice, where I found the old man sobbing over my hat as if I was dead. He no sooner found that I was really unhurt than he put up his handkerchief, and cut a before long switch, with which he thrashed me soundly right the assembled throng of friends. I thought then, and still think, it was a singular way of thanking Providence for my safe delivery. This is about all I have to tell, except that the old gent had a gold handle put on the old cotton umbrella.