THE CAVE OF BENTON’S RIDGE.
THE cave was a large opening in a ledge of rocks, about half a mile from the village of M——, and had for years been a favorite resort for the boys on the holidays.
’Twas at the close of school, on a bright June day, when, with a rush and a shout, out came a bevy of boys from the school-house, and over the wall with a bound were half a dozen before the rest had emerged from the open door. The first ones took their way across the fields to the cave, and had thrown themselves down on the rock at the entrance, and were busily talking, when the last comers arrived.
“We’ve planned to have a time Saturday; if Miss Walters will take the botany class for a walk, we’ll come here and have supper, and go home by moonlight,” said Fred Manning. “How does that strike you?”
“Count me in,” said Phil Earle. “I second the motion,” said Arthur Ames. “Where shall we go to walk?” said another; “this is nearly far enough for some of the girls.”
“Pooh! no! we can get some nice pitcher-plants, if we go to Eaton’s meadows; we haven’t been there for ever so long,” said Phil.
All agreed it would be fun, and Phil was deputized to ask Miss Walters, and with her complete the arrangements.
“It’s Thursday now; and I’ll ask father if we can’t have some of the hay they are making down in the lower field, to put inside the cave; for we must fix up a little,” said Arthur. Willie Eaton said his mother would make them a jug of coffee; and as he lived near, he would run round that way at noon, and put it in the spring, so as to have it nice and cool. For one of the attractions of this place was a lovely spring, that bubbled and sparkled among the ferns, just under the rock where the cave was.
Fred and Phil began to lay the stones for the fireplace; for though it was not cold on these bright June nights, still a fire was one of the grand features of the occasion.