I soon discovered that Fritz found the weight of his canes considerably more than he expected: he shifted them from shoulder to shoulder, then for a while carried them under his arm, and finally stopped short with a sigh. "I had no idea," he said, "that a few reeds would be so heavy."
"Never mind, my boy," I said, "patience and courage! Do you not remember the story of Æsop and his breadbasket, how heavy he found it when he started, and how light at the end of his journey? Let us each take a fresh staff, and then fasten the bundle crosswise with your gun."
We did so, and once more stepped forward. Fritz presently noticed that I from time to time sucked the end of my cane.
"Oh, come," said he, "that's a capital plan of yours, father, I'll do that too."
So saying, he began to suck most vigorously, but not a drop of the juice could he extract. "How is this?" he asked. "How do you get the juice out, father?"
"Think a little," I replied, "you are quite as capable as I am of finding out the way, even if you do not know the real reason of your failure."
"Oh, of course," said he, "it is like trying to suck marrow from a marrow-bone, without making a hole at the other end."
"Quite right," I said, "you form a vacuum in your mouth and the end of your tube, and expect the air to force down the liquid from the other end which it cannot possibly enter."
Fritz was speedily perfect in the accomplishment of sucking sugar-cane, discovering by experience the necessity for a fresh cut at each joint or knot in the cane, through which the juice would not flow; he talked of the pleasure of initiating his brothers in the art, and of how Ernest would enjoy the cocoanut milk, with which he had filled his flask.
"My dear boy," said I, "you need not have added that to your load; the chances are it is vinegar by the time we get home. In the heat of the sun, it will ferment soon after being drawn from the nut."