“Yes, she would,” replied Charlie; “she and father would like it as well as we. I’ll go and ask her.” He ran to the house, and came back, saying she would make it, if they would dress the birds.
“I,” said John, “should like to go to some strange place, where we never have been. I heard Joe Griffin and Henry telling about a place; they said it was eight or nine miles to the eastward of Birch Point, where nobody lives. They said there were great hills of strange-looking rocks, with a flat between them, and a brook running through it; that the Indians used to live there; and you could see the stones where they made their fires, and find arrow-heads, and Indian things that were buried there; and Uncle Isaac knew where; that somewhere along the side of the brook there was red paint, as good as ever was, and that Uncle Isaac had a room painted with it; that there were partridges there, and way back was a pond, that the brook ran out of, with pickerel in it. Joe said the way to tell it was, right off the mouth of the cove there was a great, high rock, that came up out of the water, with three spruces on the top of it, and a little turf, but the sides were all bare; and he said there were reefs and breakers all round it; but I’ll bet, if we could find it, we could see the reefs break, and keep clear of them.”
“I say, go!” said Charlie; “I do want the red paint so much! I want to paint my canoe. I can buy black paint, and there’ll be two colors; and I want to see the Indian things.”
“I want to shoot partridges,” said John, “catch pickerel, see the place, and get some paint to paint my cart, and some things for mother.”
“I want to paint a box I’ve got, that I keep my things in,” said Fred. “I’ll give up the sand-bird pie; let’s go!”
“It’s flood tide,” said John; “we can do both. Let us go and get the birds, have our pie, and then go and camp out at the other.”
They took their guns and a luncheon, and were soon on their way. By Fred’s direction they landed a little way from the point, from which three of the rocks were distant but half a gun-shot, being, indeed, connected with the point at low water, the extremity of which was fringed with low bushes, through which they crawled in different directions, when they found that the rocks were as Fred had said—blue with birds. It was arranged that Fred should caw like a crow in succession; at the first summons they were to get ready; at the second, Charlie and John were to fire; but Fred was to fire as they rose.
At the signal the guns were discharged, and the rock was covered with dead and wounded; as they rose in a thick cloud, Fred fired, when many more fell—some on the rock, but most of them in the water. These Tige instantly began to bring ashore, and lay down at John’s feet.
“We’ve killed half a bushel!” cried Fred; “didn’t I tell you this was the place?”