Tales out of school

by Frank R. Stockton

FOOL-HARDY CARL HOFER, AND THE WATER-LADY.

A good many years ago, on the banks of the Rhine, there lived a boy named Carl Hofer. “Climbing Carl” he was often called because he excelled in climbing; and, quite as frequently, he was called “Fool-hardy Carl,” because he would put himself in very unsafe places, where no sensible person would venture. Everybody said he would be killed some day; and the wonder was that he had reached the age of fourteen years without breaking his neck. His father and mother had tried every means of curing him of these foolish ways; but, although he was a pretty good boy in regard to most things, he was very disobedient about climbing.

His parents were willing he should climb even the tallest trees; and they were quite proud at the gymnasium to see him run lightly up the long ladders, and across the open framework, near the roof. You might say that this also was a dangerous thing to do. That is true, but Carl’s skill in this art, and his long practice made it next to impossible that he should fall. But he would go up places where no amount of skill or practice could save him in case of accident. He would climb a dead tree, for instance, though he knew a rotten branch might break at any moment, and throw him headlong to the ground, or he would go up a tottering wall. It is courageous to put yourself into possible danger, for the sake of accomplishing some good. No boy can learn to ride, or climb, or swim without incurring possible danger. But that is very different from putting yourself into almost certain danger just for the sake of doing a thing when no good is to come of it. When people act in this way they are fool-hardy.

And Carl was not content to be courageous, which is a very good thing, but he must also be fool-hardy, which is a very silly thing.

THE PLACE WAS STRANGE TO HIM.

One day he set out alone for a long walk down the river. It was a holiday, so he had plenty of time before him. He walked a very long time before he sat down to rest; and then he looked around him to see where he was. The place was strange to him, so that he knew he must be a long way from home. There was no house near, and no person was in sight. But Carl was not afraid, for he was used to rambling about the woods, and he felt sure there was nothing there to hurt him.

There was nothing to hurt him but his own foolish self.

Close by him was a beautiful hill, down which fell a little cascade. It was not very high, but rose up almost perpendicularly from where he was sitting. He felt a great desire to see what was on the other side of that hill. He could easily have gone around it, on the inland side, but that did not suit his taste. He remembered that he had given his promise to his mother, that morning, that he would not do one fool-hardy thing that day. But was this fool-hardy? The hill was very steep, but there were trees and saplings to help him in the ascent. He did not hesitate long. He started up the hill. If he had continued up the side he began upon, it would not have been so very bad, for if his foot had slipped he might have had his fall so broken by bushes and tufts of grass that there would have been a possibility of his reaching the ground without any great injury. But he soon found that the side of the hill by the river was even more steep than the one he was on, and he swung himself round by the tree branches until he reached that side. Up he went, digging hands and heels into the spongy turf, and catching hold of the saplings, and bushes that came in his way. If his foot had slipped then, he would have gone plump into the river.

But his foot did not slip, and he reached the top in safety. A little ravine lay at his feet, and on the other side of this, close to the river bank, there stood a stone tower. Eager to examine this curiosity, Carl partly ran, and partly slid down the hill, which was much less steep on that side, and ran across the ravine to the base of the tower.