The Young Marooners on the Florida Coast

by F. R. Goulding

"I have often heard your father say, 'There are two kinds of ill that it is worth no wise man's while to fret [about:--Ills] that can be helped, for then why do we not help them? and, Ills that cannot be helped, for then what is the use of fretting?' I have also heard him say that 'the best cure for ills that cannot be helped is to set about doing something useful.'"

"But what can we do more than we have already tried to do?" asked Robert, in a questioning tone.

"Not much, I confess," was Harold's reply; "yet we can be on the lookout for something. Yes," he continued, pointing, as they walked, to one of the turkey pens which they had not visited for several days, "there is something now. Very likely that trap has caught, and possibly the poor creature that is in it, is now suffering more in body for want of food and water, than we are in mind. Let us go and see."

They turned aside accordingly, and found within the trap a fine young hen in a half-famished condition. She scarcely noticed them until they were within a few paces of her, and then ran with feeble steps around the pen, twitting mournfully, but without strength to fly. Robert proposed to let her go, saying that there would be no use in carrying home a starved bird; but to this Mary objected. She was beginning to believe with Harold that they were destined to stay a long time on the island. "I think," said she, "we had better take her home, and make a coop for her, and let her be the beginning of a stock of poultry. We can get some ducks, too, I have no doubt, and that will be so nice."

The picture which she drew was so comfortable and pleasant, that they agreed to put it into instant execution. They would make for her not a coop merely, but a poultry yard and house, and stock it for her with turkeys, ducks, and brant; and she and Frank should feed them every morning on acorns and chopped venison, and then they would live like princes. The only particular difficulty that suggested itself in the case was, that wild turkeys cannot be tamed. There is such an innate love of freedom in their very blood, that even those which are raised from the egg by tame hens will soon forsake the yard for the forest.

These little pleasant plans (for after all it is little things that make life pleasant or unpleasant), occupied their minds, and soon employed their hands; for immediately on their return home they commenced upon Mary's poultry house, and marked out also the limits of the adjoining yard. This occupied them for the two remaining days of that week, and it was not until the Monday following that they commenced working upon their boats.

In the midst of that week, however, another incident occurred, which threatened to be fearful enough in its consequences, and caused another interruption to their work. Robert, Harold, and Sam, were engaged upon the fallen tree; Mary was preparing their dinner, and Frank, having found a large beetle, was employed in driving down sticks into the ground, on the plan of the picket fence, "making," as he professed, "a house for his turkey." He had begun to feel hungry; and as the odour of the broiling venison floated to his olfactories, he suddenly became ravenous. He left his beetle half penned, and was on his way to ask his sister for a mouthful or two before dinner, when directly behind the tent he saw a great black object approaching the spot where Mary stood.

He looked a moment, uncertain what it could be, then gave a scream. "Run, sister! run!" he said. "Come here! Look! look!" She looked, but saw nothing, for the tent intervened. As Frank said "run!" he set the example, and reaching a small tree about six inches in diameter, climbed it as nimbly as a squirrel, crying as he ran, "Come here! Come here!"

Mary was astonished. She was sure from the tones of his voice that he was in earnest, yet she saw no danger, and hesitated what to do. Observing him, however, climb the tree, calling earnestly to her, she was about to follow, when in a moment it was too late. An enormous bear came from behind the tent, snuffing the odour of the meat, and looking very hungry. Almost as soon as it discovered her, it rose upon its hind legs, seeming surprised to meet a human being, and came forward with a heavy growl. Had any one been present to help, Mary would probably have screamed and fainted, but thrown upon her own resources she ran to the fire and seized a burning brand. Then another and very fortunate thought came to her mind. The dipper, or water ladle, was in her hand; and as she drew the brand from the fire, she dipped a ladle full of the boiling, greasy water, and threw it into the breast, and upon the fore-paws of the growling beast.

That expedient saved her life. The bear instantly dropped upon all fours, and began most piteously to whine and lick its scalded paws. Mary seeing the success of her experiment, dipped another ladle full, and threw it in its face. The bear now uttered a perfect yell of pain, and turning upon its hind legs, ran galloping past the tent, as if expecting every moment to feel another supply of the hot stuff upon its back.