But our readers are not to understand that during all these months there was nothing but continued enjoyment without some genuine hardships. There were at times some very serious drawbacks, and the boys had to muster up all their courage and face some annoyances that were exasperating in the extreme. And these hardships and trials were as likely to meet them when they would have rejoiced in refreshing slumber as during the weariness of a heavy day’s marching on the trail of some game.
One of the great drawbacks to quiet slumber during the sultry hours of the hot summer nights were those intolerable pests, the mosquitoes. At times they were simply unendurable. They came in such multitudes that they were irresistible. They presented their bills so importunately that payment had to be made promptly in blood. Some nights the boys could hardly sleep at all. Every expedient was tried to drive them off. Smoke fires were kindled, and all other known remedies were tried, but all in vain. Blistered hands, swollen faces, eyes that would only half open, some mornings told of the long-continued, unsuccessful battles that during the nights past had been fought; and, to judge from appearances, the lads had been most thoroughly defeated. Said Sam one morning, after a night of misery with the insatiable pests:
“I see now why the rascals are called pious animals—because they have been singing over us and preying on us all the night; but in spite of all their efforts I am sure I am none the better, but much the worse, both in body and spirits.”
“I say, Big Tom,” said Alec, “what is the good of mosquitoes anyway?”
“To teach young white gentlemen patience, to see what stuff they are made of,” said the old man, while all were amused at his apt reply.
“We hardly notice them,” continued Big Tom, in his slow, deliberate manner; “and so it will be with you all after a time. Mosquitoes are peculiar, and have their likes and dislikes. One of their likes is to be fond of fresh blood, and so they go for the latest arrivals, and one of their dislikes is not to care much for tough old Injun. When you have been here some time, and have been bitten by a great many, you will not mind them so much.”
“How many?” said Frank.
“About a million,” replied Big Tom, “though I don’t know how many that is.”
This answer was too much for Sam, so he sprang up in a hurry and, in a semi-tragic manner, exclaimed:
“When does the next train start for home? I want to see my mother.”