“Crackie, but this is great!” exclaimed Chot as he ran and jumped on the springy turf.
“Nothing better!” agreed Rick, and he turned a hand spring in the abundance of his good feeling. Then Rick saw something down in the grass which he began pulling up and chewing.
“What is it?” asked Chot.
“Sheep sorrel,” was the answer. “I like a bit of sour stuff.”
“So do I,” agreed his chum, and soon they were chewing the tender light green leaves of the sorrel, a plant not unlike the Irish shamrock in shape of foliage, but quite different in character.
A little of this “sour grass,” however, was enough for the boys, and they looked for other things with which they were familiar. They crossed the field, and before striking into the woods came to a sluggish brook.
“’Tisn’t big enough to have a swim in,” said Chot, regretfully.
“No, and doesn’t look clean enough,” added Rick. “But there’s some sweet flag,” he went on eagerly. “Let’s pull some.”
In a place where the brook widened out into a swampy place grew tall spears of green, not unlike the foliage of “cat tails,” those brown drum-sticks that many persons gather for ornaments. However these green spears were of a different character, for their roots formed the medicinal calamus, called by country folk “sweet flag.” Calamus has a pleasant taste, though it is rather biting if taken in too great quantity. The root, dried, is often used in medicine, and old-fashioned people used to carry a bit in their pockets to nibble.
When I was a boy I would gather sweet flag, cut the roots into thin sections and bake it in the oven with sugar. It was better this way, though too much of it was not good for one.