Although they had been traveling all day they were but a few miles from the village, and the people in spite of the wearisome labors of the day scarcely realized that they had begun a long and perilous journey. To most of them it seemed like a picnic party, but to poor little Guy, it seemed a very tiresome one as he assisted in taking a small cooking-stove from Mr. Harwood's baggage wagon. As soon as it was set up, in the open air, at a short distance from the wagons, he was ordered to make a fire. There was a quantity of dry wood at hand, and soon he had the satisfaction of seeing a cheerful blaze. Asking Gus to take care that it did not go out, he took a kettle from the wagon and went to the spring for water.
Every person was too busy to notice whether Gus watched the fire or not. Some were building fires for themselves, some unhitching the horses from the traces, unyoking the oxen, and giving them water and feed. Guy thought he had never beheld so busy a scene as he came back with the water, hoping that his fire was burning brightly. Alas! not a spark was to be seen, Gus had gone with George to see the cows milked, and poor Guy had to build the fire over again. Although he was very tired he would have gone to work cheerfully enough, had not Mrs. Harwood, who was wishing to warm some milk for the baby reprimanded him severely for his negligence. He thought the fire would never burn, and was almost ready to cry with vexation and fatigue. Indeed two great tears did gather in his eyes, and roll slowly over his cheeks. He tried to wipe them away, but was not quick enough to prevent George Harwood who had returned from milking, from seeing them.
"Hullo!" he cried, catching Guy by the ears and holding back his head that everybody might see his face, "here is 'Young America' boo-hoo-ing, making a reg'lar 'guy' of himself sure enough. Has somebody stepped on his poor 'ittle toe?" he added with mock tenderness, as if he was talking to a little child; "never mind, hold up your head, or you'll put the fire out with your tears; just see how they make it fizzle: why, how salt they must be!"
Guy had the good sense neither to get angry, or to cry, at this raillery, although he found it hard to abstain from doing both. But he remembered in time that his mother had told him the only way to silence George was to take no notice of him.
"Guy," said Mrs. Harwood, who had just come from the wagon, with some meat to be cooked for supper, "I want you to go to your mother, and amuse Aggie."
He went joyfully as he had not seen his mother since morning. He uttered an exclamation of surprise when he entered the wagon in which she was seated, it was so different from what he had imagined it. It was covered with thick oil-cloth, which was quite impervious to rain; on the floor was a carpet, over head a curious sort of rack that held all manner of useful things, guns, fishing poles and lines, game bags, baskets of fruit, sewing materials, books; and even glass-ware and crockery. Guy thought he had never seen so many things packed in so small a space. There were at the rear of the wagon and along the sides, divans, or cushioned benches, made of pine boxes covered with cloth and padded, so that they made very comfortable seats or beds. As Guy saw no sheets or blankets upon the divans, he was at a loss to know how the sleepers would keep warm, until his mother raised the cushioned lid of one of the boxes, and showed him a quantity of coverlets and blankets, packed tightly therein.
There was a large, round lamp suspended from the center of the wagon, and as Guy looked at his mother's cheerful surroundings he could not but wonder that she sighed when he spoke of the dark, lonesome lodgings they had left, until he suddenly remembered that she had been nursing the heavy, fretful baby, and trying to amuse Aggie all the day.