“Yes, mother, we can; because we can get Hannah Murch, Aunt Molly Bradish, and Sukey Griffin, and do it first-rate.”
“I want the fun of quilting it myself. Well, I will go; the quilt can stand till I get back. Charlie, you tell Ben I’m coming to keep house for him, but he must come after me himself, in his great canoe; I’m a scareful creature by water; I ain’t a bit like Mrs. Hadlock or Sally—willing to go any where in a clam-shell.”
The next morning Ben took Sally to the main land, and brought his mother on to the island. It was a great gratification to Ben to have his father and mother on the island, in his own home; and the hours of relaxation from labor were seasons of heartfelt enjoyment.
Charlie lost no time putting into execution Captain Rhines’s directions in respect to the pig, having first enjoined upon them the greatest secrecy, not even permitting them to tell Ben and Sally of his plots and suspicions, lest Joe, who was very quick of perception, should divine what was in store for him.
In the first place, he made a fire of some old oak and maple stumps and chips, in a hollow of the ledge, that he might have some brands at hand whenever he might want them. A day or two passed away, and nothing was heard of the pig. The fire smouldered away in the old roots, and Charlie once in the while flung on fresh fuel.
At length, one day, just after Joe had eaten his dinner, and gone to work, while Ben and the captain sat down to talk a little while with Mrs. Rhines, he heard him squealing in the midst of a great mass of brush, composed of the tops of several large pines, and branches from other trees which had been flung upon them, in clearing a road to haul the logs. The whole mass lay up very high from the ground, and underneath the pig was running about and squealing for dear life. The brush, which had been cut the year before, was full of pitch, and as apt to catch as tinder. The moment Charlie heard the noise, he ran to the place, and began to call, “Pig, pig;” and piggy replied by squealing with all his might.
“Poor piggy, are you hungry? Wait a minute, and I will get you some corn.”
He ran to the house and got some corn in a dish, and to the fire for a brand; he called the pig, rattled the corn in the dish with one hand, and with the other lighted the brush in different places, as he walked around the heap.
“Chook, chook,” cried Charlie; squeal, squeal, went the pig.
The cunning boy had now fired the heap in a dozen places, completely encircling the pig. A slight breeze now sprang up as the flood tide made, and in an instant the fire, which had been gradually making progress, began to roar and crackle, and soon swept through the brush in a sheet of flame.