The wood was not far distant from the house of Mrs. Lee. It was wild, shady, and beautiful: the resort of the squirrel and the rabbit—gay with innumerable wild-flowers, and vocal with the sweet music of its feathered denizens. Numerous openings amid the thickets disclosed irregular knolls, covered with the shrubby bushes which now hung full of the purple berry of which we came in search, and whose abundance in many past years had given to this rural spot the name of Whortleberry, or in village nomenclature, Huckle-berry wood. We soon met with two or three other parties on the same errand with ourselves: some acquaintances of Lizzy and Nancy were among them: we united our forces, filled our baskets with berries, and chatted and laughed the hours away.
It was about noon, when, tired and rather hungry, we concluded to seek for a shady spot where we might rest, and partake of the refreshment with which we had taken the precaution to provide ourselves. Bill, who had acted the part of master of the ceremonies during the whole of the day, now preceded us, boasting aloud of his superior skill in discovering a cool and pleasant spot for the purpose we desired. After a few turns among the bushes and underwood, we suddenly emerged upon the borders of a broad and rapid brook, which was murmuring its way most delightfully among the reeds and wild-flowers that graced its margin. And here we were at a stand. To arrive at the spot designated by our young conductor, and represented by him as the best in the wood, it was necessary that we should cross the stream; but how to do so was the question. Bill suggested the placing a few large stones in the bed of the river, by means of which we might easily step across. This was accordingly done; and Bill, taking his sister by the hand, preceded the rest of the party, who paused while they marked the progress of the adventurers across their unsteady footway. As soon as they touched the opposite margin, a loud shout from Bill electrified us. “A rattle-snake! a rattle-snake! run—run for your lives!” and forgetful of the courage which I had hitherto seen him assume on almost every occasion, Bill dragged his terrified sister up the rough bank, and disappeared with her in the thick groves beyond.
The cry had affrighted all. Each one ran in a different direction from his fellow, and each thought the rattle-snake close at his heels. The panic could scarcely have been greater had a boa-constrictor appeared wreathing its voluminous folds among the branches of the beech, walnut, and oak, that rustled above our heads. It was sorrowful to see the labors of the morning scattered in a moment, for many of the well-filled baskets, overturned by their respective owners in the precipitation of their flight, poured their purple treasure among moss, lichens, and fern-blossoms.
Meanwhile, I looked in vain for the reptile which had caused this alarm, and finding myself left entirely alone, I concluded to follow the footsteps of the valorous William and his gentle sister. Crossing the stream, and clambering the bank on the opposite side, I found myself in a charming grove of tall young trees of rapid growth.
All was still, save the whistle of the robin, or the solitary call of the cat-bird. I wandered along, almost forgetful of the cause which brought me hither, when at the entrance of a thicket of young hazels, seated at the end of a fallen tree, and leisurely employed in stripping the bark from a sapling branch, which he seemed desirous of forming into something resembling a walking stick, I discovered “Our Bill.”
Surprised at the quiet in which I beheld him, contrasted as it was with his late trepidation and alarm, I immediately accosted him with enquiries after his sister.
“She isn’t far, I guess.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Yes.”
“I wish to see her.”