The Boys of Grand Pré School / Illustrated

by James De Mille

The departure of the invading host was viewed by the boys without any demonstrations of excitement whatever. They tried to act as though they were perfectly indifferent to their movements; and having gained the solid results of a victory, they did not care to heighten its brilliancy by any vain display of triumph. The triumph that was in their hearts was enough. They knew also that the Gas-pereaugians would feel an additional mortification when they reached home; for then they would there learn that Bruce and his party had penetrated to the very centre of their territory, and had virtually done defiance by lingering so long by the bridge.

By that memorable exploit the camp in the woods had now become hallowed. Henceforth it was to bear in their eyes the charm of historic associations. They felt that their labor in building it had not been in vain. In truth it was a pleasant spot; and apart from any other associations, its own quiet beauty was sufficient to give it strong attractions. Its walls arose above them, surmounted by its roof, all interwoven with the fragrant, balsamic branches of fir trees. They had chosen fir in preference to others for the reason that the spines of the fir branches will cling for months before drooping; whereas the hemlock, the spruce, the pine, and most other trees of that kind, are of such a nature that their spines will not cling to the severed branch for much more than a week. And here were the dark green walls, cool, and shadowy, and fragrant. Over the floor was a thick, deep carpeting of soft moss, suitable for a seat, or for a couch. Outside, all the scene was shut in by the lofty trees which bordered the little dell. Just behind them the brook bubbled and babbled over rocks and pebbles, till it fell into ‘the pool. The pool itself, their handiwork, was not the least of the attractions. Its waters were deep enough to bathe in, and made a pleasant contrast to those surrounding trees which it reflected in its mirrorlike surface. Farther down, the brook passed on, bordered on one side with trees, and on the other by that grassy knoll where late the beleaguering Gaspereaugians had stood. On it went, past the trees, past the knoll, through underbrush and mosses, until at length it was lost to view in the forest. But amid all these beauties, the one object which was dearest to the “B. O. W. C.” was that which they had fixed over the door as at once a memorial of the past and a stimulus to adventurous deeds in the future. It was the jaw of the big fish. They had for a while been undecided as to its destination, and were on the point of giving it to the Museum, but at last decided on placing it there. There it accordingly was, grinning pleasantly with its triangular teeth, and inviting every one to enter.

Thus they were seated at their lunch, with Solomon a little apart, looking at them like a father, engaged in pleasing conversation upon all the topics which their recent varied adventures might suggest, recounting the past, enjoying the present, and speculating on the future, when suddenly there came an interruption, which in a moment put a full stop to everything.

It was a distant sound.

Now a distant sound must have been very peculiar to have caused such excitement as this.

Very well—this was very peculiar.

It was a harsh, dissonant roar, a noise, in fact, that could not be called a roar exactly, but something half way between a roar and a howl, repeating itself over and over, and pealing from afar upon their startled ears in tremendous echoes. There was no mistaking that sound. It was the same as the one that had so startled them on the memorable night of the money-digging, and had sent them flying in confusion from the spot.

The boys all looked at one another with glances of deep meaning. Not one of them was frightened now. Solomon was only curious; in him the broad day destroyed any superstitious feeling. Had it been dark, he would have been as terrified as he was before.

The noise was repeated over and over as they listened, and at last it ceased. It sounded like the conglomeration of the bellow of a bull, the roar of a lion, the yell of a madman, and the shriek of a steam-whistle, intermixed with other harsh and discordant noises that can scarcely be defined; and the whole result was one which can certainly not be likened to anything at all.

“That settles it!” said Bart at last.